Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0)

by Cynthia Dane

  I don’t know why he’s said my name, but I’m glad he has. It makes me think of what I heard that night at the club…

  Oh my God. My heart is racing. It’s slamming against my chest, and I can feel the color draining from my face. Meanwhile, he looks like a perfect prince, neither judging nor begging me for anything. And then his fingers poke up through mine, and the next thing I know our hands are clutched together on top of the table. He closes the lid of his laptop, and then mine.

  We’re done working. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I’m out of words, and all I want to do is feel him touch my hand.

  I so don’t feel in control right now. It’s… exhilarating. I have no idea what to expect. I always know what to expect, because I drive the car. I know all the stops. I know the ultimate destination. I know what music we’re going to play. Even when backseat driving, I know.

  “Kathryn,” he says again, softly. It’s a far cry from the way he groaned it in The Dark Hour, but it has as large of an impact on me. My stomach churns. My groin is making a lot of suggestions right now. “Katie…”

  I hold in a gasp. Nobody calls me Katie. My dad calls me Kat sometimes, but Katie remains in the past, when I was…

  For that short stint as a teen when I thought it sounded cute. “Please, call me Katie,” I told him when we first met at that gala. The same one we made out at. The same one where I felt his cock and he put his mouth on my tits.

  The same one where I learned what his seed feels like on my skin.

  It’s hard to believe I was so embarrassed and angry back then. What can I say? I was a selfish kid. That sex was all about my pleasure. I just wanted his cock. I wanted him to tear me apart, yeah, but I didn’t stick around after he prematurely came. I should have. I should have reassured him that it was okay, that we could try again in a few minutes. Clean myself up. Do something… anything other than run out on a hormonal and probably insecure teenage boy…

  I mean, it doesn’t seem like he was traumatized by the event, but if I’ve thought about it every time we bumped into each other over the years… I’m sure he has too.

  “Call me Katie…”

  He remembered that?

  “Nobody’s called me that since high school.”

  “Did I offend you?”

  Our hands are still interlocked on the table. Where is this going? “No. Don’t call me that in front of other people, though.”

  “I wouldn’t.” His voice is so soft and gentle. Yet firm. Definitely firm. The man is still a Dom, after all. He makes you feel safe and secure. Like whatever happens is meant to happen, and you can put your trust in him. He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you feel good. He’ll do things I normally don’t want a man to do to me.

  His next words surprise me.

  “We should put all that behind us.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m only half ignorant.

  “We’ve been rough on each other when we meet. It’s because of what happened that day, right? We’re both defensive about it. It’s in our natures to react that way, especially as kids.”

  “Ian… don’t worry about it. I don’t hold it against you.”

  “Oh, I know you don’t really care that I did something every teen guy does at least once. Just like I don’t really care that your reaction was to freak out and stomp out on me.”

  I decide to not hear the mild derision in his tone. “Sounds like we’re both hung up on it.”

  “So let’s put it behind us. From now on. We’re adults, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  His hand squeezes mine. “Adults, you know… they are more experienced regarding certain things.”

  I swallow, and it feels like the lump is going to explode in my stomach. “Yeah.”

  Ian Mathers is leaning across the table. I am leaning across the table. I have no control over any of this… no control at all… what my body does, what he does… fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening?

  He’s so close that his breath tickles my chin. “That means you and I are a lot more experienced at certain things than we were, what was it, twelve years ago?”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re also better at forgiving. So, do you forgive me, Katie?”

  I’m not sure what’s happening. The room is spinning. Something that feels like fatigue infuses into me. I’m awake, but… what’s controlling me? “Forgive you for what?”

  “For that day. I forgive you.”

  Another swallow. My lips are so dry. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  His hand is squeezing mine so hard that I don’t doubt he’s bruising the both of us. It hurts. Oh, God, does it hurt. Everything. Everything hurts. My hand, my arm, my fucking heart.

  “If you believe me, kiss me.”

  “And what will that solve?”

  There’s that shrug. That smug, I-don’t-really-care shrug. Except I know he totally cares right now. “Let’s find out.”

  It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss those lips. To know how much experience he now has. To express everything I’ve learned in the same amount of time.

  Like how I’ve become a Domme.

  Dommes don’t do this.

  They’re not seduced by men like Ian. They don’t have the control stripped from them, at any time…

  Except. Except. Isn’t he giving me some control right now? He’s left the ball in my court. All I have to do is pick it up and toss it back to him.

  I’m in control. Anything that happens from here is because I wanted it to happen.

  No regrets.

  No fears.

  I’m a Domme, which means I know what kind of man Ian is. No matter what happens, he’ll take care of me. And I’ll take care of him. Mostly that one, because I have been given control.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Next thing I know? Boom. My whole life has changed.

  And my name is muttered on my lips, Ian Mathers’s tongue slipping against mine. The pain in my hand is absolutely exquisite, and I slip far, far into the comfort of something so long ago and familiar.

  He’s as good a kisser as the girls at school said he was.

  Chapter 11

  KATHRYN

  I’m on fire. From head to toe, all I can think about is doing exactly what I am.

  Namely, kissing Ian.

  His lips are tender against mine, although I feel the force of his every movement within his kiss. When he moves from my mouth to my chin, I think it’s over.

  I am wrong. So blissfully wrong.

  Ian kisses the underside of my chin, his lips and tongue caressing my skin as he descends to my throat. Sitting there like an idiot, all I can think about is how good his hot breath feels against every part of me. Just because he isn’t kissing every part, doesn’t mean I don’t understand what it would feel like…

  His hand uncurls from mine as he pulls away. I’m left sitting there, dazed, hungry for more. This man has opened a Pandora’s box I’m not sure he can close. Not until he stands from his chair, his fingers signaling for me to stay where I am. He’s coming to me, you see. Rounding the table, slowly and surely, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek and press his thumb against the corner of my mouth.

  “Kathryn…” No matter how many times he says it, I still can’t get over it. Especially now that his touch encircles my throat. His grip is gentle, but firm, and I know that right now he wants to take me like he takes his subs.

  Before I can protest, his hand slips down the front of my shirt. I let it.

  I want him to touch me.

  My eyes remain on his face as his fingertips reach beneath my bra within my shirt and stroke my nipple. The fire is born from electricity. It’s a shock, all right. A shock penetrating me faster than his body can. The tiny pinches I receive on my flesh command that I moan, encouraging him to keep going.

  “Kathryn.” Ian knees besid
e me, his eager mouth pulling away the buttons of my jacket and blouse. Just as I reach around and curl his hair in my hand, his tongue lashes against my nipple, one of his hands stroking my thigh.

  “Ian.” I can play this game too. All day.

  We’re going a lot slower than we did ten years ago. No rush. No need to prove ourselves. His tenderness with my body so far has me reeling in admiration. Ian is not a stranger to the nipple between his teeth. He sucked on it back then, too, his powerful lips and tongue almost making me come from that alone.

  Oh, God, coming. I’m full with the urge now, and it’s worse than at any other point this week, even though I was generous with myself in the shower last night. All I want is for Ian Mathers to strip me bare and…

  Do I have to say it? I want this man to fuck me. We’re over halfway to sex now. I want more. I want what I was denied a decade ago.

  He’s in the chair beside me, facing me, his tongue snaking into my ear and making me whimper from the exquisite stimulation. Ian’s hand continues to massage my thigh. Soon enough, he brushes against my mound, and I moan against his mouth.

  The man is fumbling with my zipper. My hand is searching for his too… but not before I wrap half my hand around his growing hardness.

  Groaning, Ian puts his hand on my breast, his voice reaching new depths unlike he was able to achieve as a very young man. My grip hesitates. That moan of approval was so… unlike anything I have heard from a man in a long time.

  There are no mind games right now. We clearly both want this. Why compromise that with our bedroom nonsense? We’re not even in a bedroom. The excuse to do whatever we desire is there, and it’s perfect.

  I tentatively hold his erection again. Stiff. Thick. I can barely see anything in his lap, let alone with black pants on, but I’m impressed. It’s not big enough to make me scream and call it a monster, but I’m getting wet just thinking about him again.

  Instinctively, I loosen up.

  Ian wraps his hand around mine, keeping it on his clothed cock. “It’s all right,” he says, “It’s not happening anytime soon.”

  What a time to joke about it.

  “Katie.” He kisses my shoulder, fingers still biting into my thigh. “Let me have you.”

  “Have me?” Deep down, I know what he means. Any man could say that he wanted me, that he was going to fuck me. What Ian said was intriguing. “What do you mean by that?”

  All kissing stops, but his grip is as firm as ever on my thigh. “Let me prove to you that I’m a worthy lover.”

  Since he won’t kiss me, I kiss him. The air is warm, but not as warm as it is against his lips. Now his hand is halfway down my pants, his fingers riling me up for the main event, whenever that supposedly happens. I won’t say no to a great looking guy like Ian stroking my clit in the office.

  You’d think I was a virgin from how I miscalculated the width of his fingers. He’s not even inside of me, but I’m moaning because holy fuck one finger alone is enough to fill the space between my folds. He chuckles into my ear when he feels how wet I must be. So stupid smug, and I don’t care, because now the smugness is turning me the fuck on.

  I want Ian to get drunk on how wet I am for him. I want him to marvel at my hard nipples and the heat pouring from every hole in my body. Fuck me here, fuck me there, I don’t care! Of course I want him to fuck me where it counts most. All week I have been fantasizing, in my chair, in my bed, in my shower… fantasizing about this man right here filling me with his cock.

  I know he’s not submissive. I know he’s not going to submit to me. I’m fine with that, once in a while. Sometimes even a Domme wants to have a gorgeous man split her in two and take her. The right man, anyway.

  Once again, I remind myself that this isn’t BDSM. This is plain ol’ hot fucking sex. It doesn’t matter who is on top, as long as we both get off as hard as possible.

  “Ian,” I murmur, delighting in how fun his name is to say. He glances at me, but his eyes would rather feast on my breasts poking out from my blouse and on his fingers slipping in and out of my pants, wetter, wetter, dripping. “I want to fuck you.”

  It must be the Domme in me. Making my intentions clear like that. I look in Ian’s eyes, which are whirling in lust… lust for me. Yup. I made the right decision getting vocal, because this man knows that I want to fuck him. He knows that I’m waiting for the right moment to jump in his lap and wrap my core around his cock.

  “Going farther than this,” I begin, my hand groping his hardness, “means we’re fucking.”

  His teeth tug on my earlobe, his hand pushing so hard against my slit that I can feel my wetness struggling to break free. I’m so relaxed, so ready that none of our awkward positions or the discomfort from the chair beneath my ass bothers me. So consumed with my need for sex, and all I can think about is unzipping this man’s trousers and stroking the skin of his shaft.

  My hand barely fits around his girth. I don’t have small hands.

  Fuck me, there’s no way he was this big the first time we tried doing it. Or at least I don’t think he was. I would remember a huge cock at that age. This is one of the biggest I’ve felt now, let alone back then. Shit, maybe he wasn’t fully erect back then? Is that why things went south?

  Why the hell am I thinking about this?

  “Yes, ma’am,” he hisses in my ear, drawing his hand out and showing me how wet his fingers are. As I pull him completely from his pants and massage the head of his cock, he pushes his fingers into my mouth, and all I taste is the salt of his skin and the sweet bitterness of me.

  I push my tongue between his fingers, hearing him groan. An image of me bending down and spreading my lips over his cock enters my mind. Suddenly I am taken back a week ago, watching Stephanie May bob up and down this cock. I realize it now. The reason I was so annoyed watching Ian Mathers get a blowjob from a hot blonde was because I still had yet to get mine from him.

  This man owes me.

  How to do it? The easiest thing would be to straddle his lap and have him fuck upward into me, letting gravity pull my hips down onto him as the table bumps into my ass. I love riding. I love feeling a man between my legs as I hold onto his wide, muscular chest and slam my opening against his rigid cock. I love the freedom it gives me, even when he’s sitting down. I can be wild in my movements and bask in my own carnal glory as a man’s cock swells and releases its energy. Some of the best orgasms of my life have come from me riding a bucking bronco.

  But I want more. It’s not enough to slip into Ian’s lap and feel him fill me. If we’re doing this, then I want to be consumed. I want…

  I want to feel him all around me. I want it to be how it was supposed to be twelve years ago, regardless of the kind of sexual creatures we are now.

  There’s the table here. I could sit on it, spread my legs, and have him stand and thrust into me. My arms will hold me up, but I will have to rely on him to pinch my nipples and stroke my stomach. Or we could take over Anita’s poor little desk into the corner. Let the corner of the room prop me up while Ian pounds into my pussy and completely loses himself. God, that sounds so fucking good!

  I’m about to suggest we take this to the corner, when his voice is inside my ear, pushing away my thoughts and plummeting toward my gut. “I can’t stop thinking about bending you over this table and taking you.”

  Shivers claim me. I haven’t been bent and fucked in a long, long time. It’s not my style. It’s too submissive for me. If the man isn’t beneath me, I want to at least be able to look into his eyes. Bending over the table would be too…

  Nevertheless, the way he said it thrills me. I want more dirty talk like that.

  “What else do you want to do to me?” I whisper, my hand tight around his cock. My thumb moves up and becomes wet with his precum. If I were still trying to seduce him, I’d lick it off. Fuck, I want to know what his cum tastes like…

  Not now.

  Ian takes me by the chin and turns my he
ad toward his, lips mauling mine as his tongue threatens to choke me. More precum covers my hand. Don’t do it, Ian. Don’t come now. Your fantasies aren’t anywhere near as good as the real thing I offer you!

  “I don’t care what I fucking do to you, Kathryn. I just want to do it. Right now. Holy shit, do I need to do it right now.” His groan is telling, but his cock remains dry and hard. “Anything you want, Katie.” His hand clutches the underside of my breast and holds it up, letting his lips divert from mine and onto my nipple. The man is worshipping me. He’s not being submissive, but he’s worshiping me, and I want to die.

  We both say it at the same time.

  “The wall.”

  I’m up. He’s up. Yes, yes, this is the only way we can possibly do it. This is the only way we can move on with our lives, after holding this small grudge with each other for over a decade. I promise myself that I won’t be angry if the same unfortunate thing happens again. If he comes on me too early, I won’t leave. Not because of that. This is as much my redemption to him as it is his redemption to me.

  This is our second chance, and I’m not botching it up!

  “Katie!” I delight in my name as he pushes me against the far wall, his mouth on my throat and his hands all the fuck over me. There’s nothing to brace myself on. Nothing to sit on, nothing to lean against… just this damned wall. I feel like a teenager again, wearing my gala dress as the hottest boy around pulls it up, pulls it down, releases me to his hungry, horny eyes and anticipates me way too much. Yet I’m able to capture that feeling I had twelve years ago. The sheer amount of want I felt. Even now, as Ian finds the fortitude in his lust to dump out his wallet and produce a tiny metal box that he carries a condom in. Always ready.

  That’s how it was back then. Only I don’t let him put it on. I take the condom from his hand, rip it open, and press the rubber opening against the head of his erect cock. Slowly I torture myself – and him – rolling it down his shaft until my hand slips against his base, then his sack. When my hand comes back up, I unbutton the rest of his shirt, marveling in how toned his chest is. A few hairs tickle my lips as I kiss him there, lifting my leg while he pulls down my pants far enough to expose my ass to the wall. Fuck it. I’m taking them off.