A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2)

by Black, Lena

  We are all wearing goopy facemasks, toilet paper between our freshly polished toes, and our hair thrown up into big, sloppy buns atop our heads. We look an absolute mess, but we’re having a blast.

  We look through beauty magazines, dance, sing, eat junk food, and tell stories of our best moments, laughing and throwing pillows when someone told a particularly unflattering story of us.

  We talk about boys…a lot! I don’t think Aubrey and Keira like hearing about their brother, but they’re good sports, listening and giving advice about him. Maya tells everyone that Chase asked her out, and they’re official. I thought Jules might be upset, but she is genuinely happy for them, which means she really has moved on from him. No man, or boy, has ever been able to sway her feelings about him, but Liam seems to have broken that spell.

  The only part I could say wasn’t too pleasant was when Sloan attacked my legs, underarms, and eyebrows with a brutal waxing. I was quite relieved that I had my who-ha waxed earlier in the week. I was simply going to shave elsewhere, but they insisted on it.

  Finally, around one, the girls start dropping like flies, falling asleep on the floor around my bed. Once Brooke passes out, the last to do so, I wait a few minutes, making sure I have the all clear. When I’m sure everyone is in Lala land, I toss my covers off and carefully creep out of bed, meandering through the maze of girls lying on the floor about my room. I step over Maya, pressing my weight on the floorboard, and it lets out a groaning creak, which causes her to stir. I freeze, terrified that I’ll be found out like some rebellious teenager sneaking out of the house afterhours, but when she settles, I make a quiet break for it.

  I cautiously tiptoe down the stairs, holding my breath until my foot touches the last step at the bottom. I open the door, sneak down the hallway, making it to the last set of stairs, and descend them quickly. I cross the house and head toward Hunt’s room, which is at the back, facing the garden.

  I notice there’s no light coming from under his door and second guess my decision to come downstairs, turning around to head to my room, when I’m suddenly yanked back. It startles me until I realize I’m in Hunt’s dark room, cradled in his arms. His sweet breath brushes across my lips as his creep closer, finding them tenderly in the dark. It becomes rougher, his hands roaming and grasping all over my body, my ass, my back, my neck.

  Abruptly, he spins me around, pressing his hard chest and abs into my back while his hands run over my body. They move down my thighs and clench at my silk nightie, sliding it up my legs, my tummy, my breasts, and then, finally, over my head. He disposes of it carelessly, letting it land where it may.

  I feel his warm, velvety breath on my ear then his soft lips nibbling on the lobe, working it with a mastered touch. His hands clasp at my hips, pressing my bare rear into his solid cock, which is still clothed.

  “Gabrielle?” he whispers into my ear.

  “Yes, Hunt?”

  “How do you want me?” he asks, nipping at the lobe.

  “I want to fuck,” I reply crassly, grinding into him.

  “That’s what I thought.” He goes in for my neck, sensually attacking it with his aggressive lips. He reaches his hands through my arms and grasp hungrily onto my breasts, pinching and rolling my hardening nipples with his competent fingers. My back bows, forcing them further into his grasp, and I groan loudly.

  “Do you remember how I asked you to position yourself the other night?” he asks, plucking my nipples.

  “Yes,” I moan out, nodding my head lazily.

  “Excellent,” he purrs, grazing the back of his hand against my cheek. “I want you to go over to the bed, climb on, and position yourself as you did that night.”

  I turn around and glance up at him nervously. I remember that night, waiting for him until my knees burned and my body slumped over from exhaustion.

  “It’s alright, Gabrielle,” he assures me, skimming the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’m not going to punish you. Now, be a good girl, and do as I’ve instructed.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hunt,” I murmur, pulling away from him and walking over to the king-sized bed at the other end of the large room. I’m only able to see it because of the soft golden light coming through the window over the headboard. I stand at the edge, feeling the plush dark comforter under my fingertips and take a pacifying breath before I climb on. I position myself as I was told, kneeling, legs spread open, arms behind my back, with my head tilted forward.

  I hear his weight shifting the floorboards as he moves slowly about the room, gathering mystery items and bringing them over to the bed, tossing them behind me. He moves away from the bed, into the shadowed edges of the room, and a dark, slow, sensual beat starts to play. I know it’s Nine Inch Nails by the sexual crooning of the male singer’s moaning voice. He must really love them because this isn’t the first time he’s played them while we fuck. I glance over at the lit up screen of the iPod curiously, spotting the name of the song, ‘All The Love In The World’.

  He saunters about the bed, watching me, taking me in. I feel it deep in my clenching stomach, in my bones, as sure as I am his.

  “I want to remind you before we start; you are to use your safeword if you feel uncomfortable in any way. Is that understood?” His voice is deep, calm, demanding attention without forcing it.

  “Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

  “What is your safeword, Gabrielle?”

  I think about it for a moment.

  “Muffin,” I finally answer.

  He strokes my cheek tenderly. “That’s my girl.” I hear the pride in his voice, and in return, I feel a sense of satisfaction. He’s been so patient in his teachings, slowly immersing me in this world, his world with love and care and understanding.

  I’m nudged out of my reveries by Hunt’s gentle yet commanding voice. “Do you give me full control over this session? Do you trust that I will not take you farther than you are ready to go? Do you trust me with your safety?”

  “Yes, I trust you, Mr…”

  “No, angel,” he interrupts, “for this, I want you to use my name then you may refer to me as sir for the rest of our session.”

  I glance up at him, my blue eyes wide and enquiring. “Yes, I trust you, Damian. Do with me as you please.”

  He gasps and moans.

  “That’s my girl,” he praises, walking about the bed, watching me, desiring me, desperate to take what’s his. I feel it emanating from every pore on his well-formed body. He picks up one of his mystery objects and tells me, “I’m going to restrain your hands behind your back, Gabrielle. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answer without hesitation.

  “Good girl,” he commends, wrapping a cool, thick material about my wrists. I know exactly what it is, his belt. I remember the feel of it about my wrists the night after we came back from Seattle, that night he punished and pleasured me. But, I want to be sure it’s the one I think it is.

  “May I ask you, what are you using, sir?”

  “Yes, you may, Gabrielle,” he says with a pleased tone. “I am tying my belt about your wrists.”

  “Which belt, sir?” I inquire with a slight tremble in my voice.

  He leans into my ear, so his warm breath sweeps past it, sending shivers down my spine, and says in a whisper, “Our favorite belt, angel.”

  He nips the lobe, and I let out a whimpered moan. I’m so aroused, so built up; a single touch would set me off. But, he doesn’t touch me. Instead, he saunters back about the bed, watching me like a predator would its prey. I stare back at him with wide, curious eyes, desperate to know what he will do next.

  He halts at the foot of the bed and studies me, silently scanning me up and down, side-to-side, leisurely taking me in.

  “You’re quite the vision, Gabrielle, my restrained angel.” He takes in a deep breath, hands behind his back, and glances down between my spread eagle legs, releasing his held breath. “You are a work of art, breathtaking.”

  He stares at me for a moment, as if waiting for m
e to speak, but I simply stare back at him.

  “What do you say, Gabrielle, when someone pays you a compliment?”

  “Oh,” I murmur, my lips quivering, “Thank you, sir.”

  “Very good girl,” he praises. “You know, I think we need to keep those supple thighs open, don’t you?”

  He walks over to a window and begins fussing with the treatments. Then, once he’s finished messing with them, they shut closed and he walks over to the bed with his hands placed behind his back, obstructing my view. He stands at the edge of the bed to my right and holds out his hand, showing me the two gold rope strands fisted in his palm before placing them on the bed.

  “I’m going to tie these about your legs, Gabrielle.” He crawls onto the bed and kneels beside me, setting a hand on my upper back and the crown of my head. “I want you to lean into me, angel. I’ve got you.”

  I don’t doubt him. I shift my weight back, and he lies me gently on the mattress.

  “I want you to tuck your feet into your rear so your calf and thigh touch,” he instructs, “knees up in the air, as if kneeling. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answer, quickly positioning myself.

  “Excellent.” He picks up a golden restraint and begins wrapping about my folded legs, one on each, leaving me the ability to open and shut them, but not stretch them out. Once he’s completed his task, tying them just tight enough, he rises and stares down at his handy work. A pleased smirk creeps across his face, lighting up his eyes with devilish delight.

  I’m fucking panting.

  “Do you enjoy being tied up, ready for me to fuck you as I please?”

  I whimper, and in a breathy tone, I reply, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl, angel.”

  I feel my arousal saturating my spread open thighs. I want him so urgently, but I know our little game has only just begun. I watch him take pleasure in me, drinking me in, admiring me with an almost child-like admiration, as if he’s about to open a present he’s been waiting for all year.

  Suddenly, I feel anxious, unsure of myself under his red-hot stare, and I snap my legs shut. He glances down at them and then back up to my face.

  “You aren’t doing this again, are you, angel? I thought we worked through this.” He moves to the end of the bed, kneeling at my feet, and slides his fingers between my clamped calves, smirking at me. “Come on, gorgeous. You know you want to show me, desperately wishing I would lick the pink right off that delectable cunt of yours.”

  My legs slacken and he pries them open wide, fully exposing me for his viewing pleasure.

  He reaches his hand out and softly explores my flesh, running his skilled fingers up and down my bound body, my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, my tummy. My body wants to react to his touch, but in my current state, I’m immobile, completely reliant on him, my Dom, my sir.

  He lies on his stomach and shifts himself between my trembling, tied up legs, his face lingering over my slit. His warm breath brushes across the moist flesh, shooting electrifying waves up my body from head to curling toes. Suddenly, his velvety tongue traces the edge of my lips, causing my pulse to quicken.

  Hunt slides his powerful hands under my bum and mashes me onto his mouth, lapping me up with pleasurable strokes of his tongue, devouring me. I moan and wriggle, responding to his licentious touch, his sultry lips suckling on my hard little clit.

  “I love the taste of you on my tongue,” he purrs against my clit, “your sweetness. You’re my favorite desert.”

  “Oh, please, I want you, sir. I need you inside me,” I plead.

  “Just relax and feel it, angel.” His words vibrate my clit. “I’ve got you.”

  I want desperately to feel his messy chocolate hair under my fingers, to pull sharply as desire takes me, but my restrained hands won’t budge no matter how much I fight it.

  “Don’t fight me, angel,” he murmurs from my aching cunt. “We wouldn’t want to leave marks on those pretty little wrists of yours.”

  One of his big hands shift from under my ass and a long, thick finger enters me. He slides in and out, sluggishly invading me to the knuckle. His intense emerald eyes open, scorching hot, gaze up at me. He pummels my clit with his insatiable, coiling tongue, building me up, higher and higher until I feel like I can’t hold on. I cum so hard, my legs ache as they fight against the ropes.

  He lithely slides up my shuddering body, shoving me higher up the mattress, his tip crowding my soaked opening, making me squirm. The movement causes him to sink inside me, hitting the back wall.

  I tense from the rapid fullness of his pulsating cock, and he lets out a hoarse groan deep in his chest, thrusting his hands into my muddled strands and tugs firmly.

  “I can never have enough of you,” he growls, "or your wet, greedy cunt.”

  He slides out of me to the head, taunting me with a couple superficial pumps before sinking himself back in balls deep, and they slap deliciously against my ass.

  “You like the way I feel, don’t you, angel? You like how I possess you, cram you full.”

  He gradually exits me again, the head floating about my entrance, taunting me with its scrumptious thickness. He breaks away and hovers over me, gazing into my eyes. He cups his hands about my cheeks, tenderly petting it with his thumb, and plants a kiss on my lips, rough and slow. His worshipping lips cover me with goose bumps.

  Before I realize what’s happening, he’s flipping us over, and I’m on top of him, straddling his hips. He sits up so our faces are inches apart and enfolds his arms about me. Suddenly, my hands are free, but he keeps my legs bound. I splay my palms on his chest, stretching out my sore muscles, and feel his light chest hair.

  “Fuck me, angel,” he orders with a husky tone. “Ride my cock like you can’t live without it.”

  “Yes, sir,” I moan out breathlessly.

  I swivel my hips, taking the lead, bumping and grinding on his hard cock. My pace is slow at first, taking time to enjoy every inch of his hard-as-steel shaft, rotating my hips when I slide up to the head, working it between my slick lips. Since I can’t use my legs, I shift my weight forward into his chest, using my arms for support.

  “Oh, fuck yeah,” he growls between clenched teeth, clasping his hands onto my hips and bucking into me, sending me flying up. He slams me back down onto him, reclaiming control, and pounds me savagely. I bounce wildly, riding him so our thighs slap together in a glorious symphony of our intense fucking.

  We grunt with every hard thrust of our hips, pushing each other toward pure, unadulterated rapture. Hunt places a hand over my womb and shoves his thumb between the soaked lips, teasing my clit ruthlessly. My head flies back, taking my body with it so my back bows aggressively.

  I writhe on him, letting my body takeover until it stiffens, every muscle seizing all at once. I scream out inaudible cries, releasing hard, and fall forward onto him from sheer exhaustion, gasping urgently for air.

  I’m lying awake next to Damian, who’s fast asleep, while I stare up at the antique lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling, thinking about the big day. I’m driving myself mad thinking about it, leaving me restless.

  I turn over onto my side, tucking my hands under my head, and watch him sleep. He’s so peaceful, his supple mouth slack. Stubble shadows his chin and jaw, giving him that obtainable bad boy look that drives women mad with arousal. His stunning emerald eyes, usually filled with fire, are hidden behind curtains of pink. Tangled in the sheets, he’s blissfully ignorant to my late night study session and tomorrow’s events. His arm’s hooked above his head, one leg bent over the sheet, stomach exposed, he’s unshielded. It’s a trust I don’t take lightly.

  I look him up and down, studying every inch of bare flesh that isn’t covered by the comforter. But, I want more, so I lift the bedding off him and toss it aside, revealing his very naked, toned body. He’s exquisite. I’m not sure I will ever truly understand why he, a man of his caliber, would want to be with me, but as long as he’s mine, I really don’t
care.

  I reach up, gliding my finger down his torso, his hips, his legs, noting every freckle, mark, and scar, every perfect flaw that makes up this beautiful man. He stirs for a moment, letting out a moan and a few lip smacks before settling. I continue to trace each rise and fall of this Adonis’ defined, muscular form. I love his happy trail that lightly garnishes his tight lower stomach, outlined by that delicious V leading to temptation.

  His large cock hangs lazily between his parted thighs, no less impressive in its softened state. I want to touch it, rub it, awaken it, and even though he has woken me on more than a few occasions for midnight screw sessions, I don’t want to disturb him.

  He must feel me watching him because his eyes spring open, startling me. I smirk down at him nervously, feeling as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. He smiles sleepily back at me and wraps his arm about me, pulling me into my nook. I rest my head on his steadily moving chest and listen to his strong heartbeat, letting the reassuring rhythm calm me. He rests his cheek atop my head, and I let out a sigh, pleased by the tender gesture.

  “Why are you still up, angel?” He brushes some loose, fair strands out of my face. “I would think you’d be out for a week after the fucking I gave you.”

  “I’m just thinking about the wedding, my vows.”

  “Would you like to go over them with me?” he asks, kissing me on the crown.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “I mean, isn’t that against the rules or something?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never been married before.”

  “You better not,” I teasingly threaten him, poking him lightly in the chest, and I feel the smirk stretch across his face.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he suggests in a youthful tone.

  “You are so immature,” I giggle out.

  “More mature than you,” he retorts with a chuckle. We laugh together, enjoying this rare moment of youthful playfulness.