Dominic Powers Series, Book 2
By
A.D. JUSTICE
HER DOM’S LESSON
All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. If the location is an actual place, all details of said place are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to businesses, landmarks, living or dead people, and events is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover design by Kari Ayasha with Cover to Cover Designs.
Front and back images under license from bigstockphoto.com.
Copyright © 2014 A.D. Justice.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1502458971
ISBN-10: 1502458977
Books by A.D. Justice
Steele Security Series
Wicked Games (Book 1)
Wicked Ties (Book 2)
Wicked Intentions (Book 3, Date TBD)
Wicked Shadow (Book 4, Date TBD)
The Crazy Series
Crazy Maybe (Book 1)
Crazy Baby (Book 2, Coming early 2015)
Crazy Love (Book 3, Date TBD)
Crazy Over You (Book 4, Date TBD)
Dominic Powers Series
Her Dom (Book 1)
Her Dom’s Lesson (Book 2)
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgements
There are so many people who help make this journey into writing books enjoyable. I want to take a minute to personally thank those who specifically helped with this book.
First and foremost, I want to thank my Lord and Savior for His continued grace and love.
My husband and my two “boys”, for believing in me and supporting my endeavors, my long nights, and the days I missed time spending with them. I love you with all my heart!
My friends who stuck by me, through thick and thin: A.M. Madden, Michelle Dare, Tabitha Stokes, Tricia Daniels, J.M. Witt, Skye Turner, Ren Alexander, T.H. Snyder, Chelle Bliss and Kathy Coopmans. I love every one of you!
My cover designer, Kari Ayasha, who created this gorgeous cover.
Every member of my Street Team, who tirelessly promotes my books and recommends them to their friends. I love my Wicked Devils!
My beta readers: Cheryl F., Dana G., Jasmine C., Shannon H., Christine H., Kimberly K., A.M. Madden, and Michelle Dare.
Every single blogger who supports authors just for the love of the books. You are all rock stars in my book!
An extra special THANK YOU goes to my PA, Tabitha Charisse. I LOVE YOU! Thank you for cracking the whip, keeping me going, encouraging me, and reading, and re-reading the same passages over and over again. MUAH!!!
Chapter One
I’m sitting outside his house again, just like I’ve done almost every night for the past two weeks. It’s been eight weeks since I’ve seen him, talked to him, felt him, or tasted him. It’s fucking killing me. All of this is killing me but I feel like I have no way out. I’m in an invisible cell, there are bars all around me, and I’m completely trapped. I feel like I’m suffocating and he is my very breath. Every day, I feel my strength chipping away. One piece at a time, I’m unraveling.
Sudden movement at his lakeside mansion catches my eye and brings me out of my self-loathing pity party. The huge, ornate double front door is standing wide open and in the center of that double door is my Dom. His hair is slightly messy and he’s sexy as ever. His blue button down shirt is untucked and he looks is a little disheveled. His feet are bare and he has a glass of his favorite bourbon in his hand. His eyes scan the area but I don’t think he sees me.
The air is completely sucked out of my car and out of my lungs. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. A woman sashays up beside him, wraps her arm around his waist, and leans up to kiss his lips before she walks down the front steps. He leans against the doorjamb and watches her get in her car and drive off. They wave at each other and I watch, unable to tear my eyes away, as he smiles at her.
I recognize that smile instantly and my heart constricts further. That smile used to be for me.
My. God.
My heart has just shattered into a million pieces. Has he replaced me already?
He continues to watch her car until it disappears into the horizon. All of a sudden, his head jerks in my direction and, even though I originally thought I was in a safe spot, I now know that he’s fully aware that I’m here. I feel his eyes on me, the heat radiating off of his muscular body, and the tension is building to unbelievable levels inside my car even though he hasn’t moved from his spot. He straightens his body and I can tell from his stance that his eyes are narrowed in anger – at me.
His arm flies up in the air in my direction as his index finger points at me. With a crook of his finger, he demands that I come to him. Heaving a heavy sigh, resigned to the lashing I am about to receive, I put my car in gear and drive the short distance to his lake house, stopping in the circular drive at his front door. Exiting the car on shaky legs, I’m suddenly scared to death of what he’ll say. At this point, I would gladly take any physical pain over the mental anguish I’ve been in. Nothing he could physically do to me would hurt as badly as what he could order me to do.
Such as, leave and never come back.
He is my Dom no matter what has happened. He owns me – heart, body, and mind. If he orders something of me, I will comply regardless of what it is or what it costs me. I know this and this is the very thing that scares me to death. I say silent prayers all the way up the steps to his expansive front porch. He hasn’t moved from the doorway but I can feel his eyes burning into me.
I can’t raise my eyes to meet his. I mean I physically can’t do it. I feel the weight of his stare, I feel the depth of his pain…the pain I caused him…and I know the inner turmoil he is experiencing. He’s my Dom and I know him inside and out. I know he still feels it, too. But now he doesn’t trust me and without trust…well, I can’t let my thoughts go there just yet. It’s too painful and I’m too weak to face it just yet.
I stop in front of him and keep my head bowed in hopes that my reverence and submission will earn me at least a little favor with him. The cold, indifferent tone of his voice dashes my hopes and I fight to keep the tears from flowing. Again. All I’ve done while I’ve been alone is cry
. Sob. Scream. Let my anguish out. Anguish that I am responsible for causing.
“Why. The. Fuck. Are. You. Stalking. Me,” he spits out one word at a time at me with such venom, such hatred, it causes my heart to skip a beat before it speeds up to an unnatural pace. I can’t pass out now – at least he is talking to me, even if it’s not what I want to hear.
“Dom, I…” the fear of how he’ll react to the truth worries me and I’m not sure I can finish the sentence. Until…
“I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” His demand interrupts my thoughts and the submissive in me must meet his expectations.
“Dom, I miss you,” my voice is so very soft and fearful. His laugh has no humor in it. It’s sarcastic, cold, and mocks me, just as I deserve. “Please don’t send me away,” I beg.
He steps to the side and from my peripheral vision, I see him extend his hand inside the house, inviting me in. My heart leaps – will my Dom forgive me? Will he take me in and let me tell him everything? Oh, please, please, let that be the case.
I enter the room and take ten steps and then stop, just as I’ve been trained to do in the past. The clicking of the double doors closing sounds behind me but I wait. My Dom walks to the bar in the far corner of the room, removes the stopper in the decanter, pours a drink, replaces the stopper – and then nothing. There are no other sounds – not him taking a drink, not him walking across the room to me, nothing but deathly silence.
My whole body jumps and I can’t contain the shrill sound of my startled scream when the crystal tumbler flies by me, crashes into the wall, and splinters into a million pieces just a few feet away. I involuntarily recoil and step back a few steps, until I bump into an immovable wall of muscle. My body instantly reacts, knowing its master. Even though my mind knows my presence here isn’t welcome, I can’t help but melt into him.
His mouth is suddenly close to my ear. The sweet smell of the bourbon mixed with my Dom warms my skin and causes tingles to rush down my body when he speaks. His baritone voice is lowered in a low, sultry whisper, causing every part of my female anatomy to respond simultaneously and puts me on the verge of combustion.
“You shouldn’t be here, Sophia,” he croons in my ear before switching to the other side. “What is it you want from me?” He moves my hair from my shoulder, pulling it over to one side and exposing my neck and ear. “What is it your body craves, Sophia?”
I involuntarily moan and arch my neck. My head is tilted back on his chest, which I now realize is bare. When did he take his shirt off? His warmth seeps through me and makes me want him even more. He’s waiting for my answer and I’m so worked up, I can barely think of how to formulate an answer that won’t get me kicked out on my ass.
“Dom, I’ve missed you. My body craves only you, Dom,” I respond honestly. I’ve lain in bed wide-awake for hours on end, feeling like I’m losing my mind with missing him so badly. It’s no less than I deserve, but I am silently begging him to not send me away.
“It’s Tuesday,” he whispers and I feel his lips against my ear. “You’re wearing a short skirt and high heels for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, knowing that every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, I’ve worn a similar outfit simply because he once requested it of me.
“I wonder, Sophia, if you’ve met my entire command about your outfit,” his voice hypnotizes me. His touch brands me once again but his hands haven’t touched me except for moving my hair out of the way.
Before I can answer him, I feel his fingers hitching my skirt up one millimeter at a time. The tortuously slow pace is killing me and I’m ready to tear all of my clothes off for him. But, I know that will actually only delay things. This is the way my Dom likes to do things and I love what he does to me.
When he’s finally pulled it up far enough, I shiver uncontrollably as his hand reaches between my legs from behind. His finger finds my heated core and gently strokes me back and forth. His mouth is again at my ear and I instinctively lean my head to the side, giving him all the access he wants. His mouth pushes against my ear at the same time his finger thrusts inside of me. He strokes me eagerly as his whispers become louder, “No panties, Sophia. You followed my orders well, my girl. And you’re so wet for me – before I’ve even touched you. I wonder, has my sub missed her Dom?”
His tempo quickly increases and he adds another finger, stretching and filling me. His movements become rougher, exactly as he knows I love it, and I want to squirm. I want to ride out this feeling and I want to give him all the pleasure I can possibly give. But, my Dom has told me before that I’m to remain still until he tells me to move – so that I don’t resist the pleasure he’s giving me. He pushes me to limits I didn’t know I could take and gives me more pleasure than any woman has a right to ask for.
“Yes, Dom, so much,” is all I can manage to verbalize. I’ve missed him more than I could ever explain. More than he could ever know.
The tightening and pressure building inside me is tremendous. Dom has a strict rule about me reaching climax before he tells me it’s okay to do so, but I’m seriously considering taking the punishment and just letting it go right now. It has been so long since I’ve felt his touch that I’m about to burst into flames. My ability to fight it is waning and it’s about to happen with or without my consent.
My body is suddenly cold and bare. The warmth of his bare chest is gone. The sweet, warm breath of his whispers has disappeared. His hands are no longer on me, bringing me to the most exquisite pleasure I’ve ever felt. I’m standing alone in the middle of the room, as if I’m a statue on display, and he has completely retreated from me. The sound of the stopper and decanter are all I hear before the liquid is poured. I hear him swallow one shot. Two shots. Three shots.
Then, he’s suddenly behind me again, but he’s not touching me. His voice is cold and distant again. He mocks and ridicules me with his next words.
“Do you really think you can just show up here and I’d just take you in? Give you what you want?” His voice becomes more forceful, “Give you pleasure–only for you to fuck me over again? You’re out of your fucking mind. Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. House.”
Straightening my skirt, I turn to leave, as he demands. I still can’t make eye contact with him. His blue eyes are probably blazing through me and I can’t bear to look at them and see the hurt, the anger, and the hatred toward me. He doesn’t understand it–any of it. He doesn’t know yet why I had to do what I did and now I’m afraid he will never let me tell him.
Before I reach the door, his parting words shred me to pieces and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from them.
“I am not your Dom,” he enunciates each word clearly and forcefully, leaving no room for doubt. The sobs wrack my body before I even take the first step out of his home.
God help me. What have I done?
Eight Weeks Earlier
I’m in my office working on contract negotiation replies but I can’t keep my mind focused on what’s in front of me. The stress of this whole mess is going to be the death of me. Death. That thought alone makes me shudder as the scene of the house fire tortures me, set on an endless loop to repeat in my mind. I drop my face into my hands and fight back the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me.
Dom was almost killed and I know that was the sole purpose of the fire. I don’t believe it was intended for me since I wasn’t even supposed to be at his house on Sunday nights. Dom insisted that I stay with him all weekend after we’d been apart during his business trip. The truth is, I wanted to stay with him and never leave, but I knew it would cause trouble in one way or another.
As if my thoughts could conjure the devil himself, my phone rings and my whole body cringes when I hear his voice on the other end.
“Sophia Vasco,” his tone is mocking, “are you ready to do your Master’s bidding?”
“You are not my Master and I’ve told you for weeks that I’m not helping you any more,” I spit out at him through grit
ted teeth.
“Don’t talk to me like that, you little bitch,” his disgruntled voice yells at me. “I own you and you will do what I fucking tell you to do, when I fucking tell you to do it. You know that man that’s been fucking you? Yeah, I got plans for him. I will ruin him one way or another. And you will do your part.”
Dom has the sexiest Southern drawl I have ever heard. The timbre of his voice changes depending on what he has in mind, but it always soothes, excites, and owns me. Dominic’s voice sends shivers down my spine and chill bumps across my skin without even trying. Harrison’s drawl and ignorance, on the other hand, only serve to irritate me, grind on my nerves, and evoke feelings of deep resentment.
That is exactly what’s happening right now.
“Harrison,” I feel the vein in my neck throbbing with my anger, “Leave. Him. Alone. You are wrong about him and I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
“Well, well. He’s fucked you real good, hasn’t he? I bet he’s had you every way ‘til Sunday, but he’s even managed to mind-fuck you, too. How ‘bout I give him a call and tell him what you’ve really been up to? How’d that be?” Harrison laughs as if he’s just said the funniest thing ever heard.
I’m not laughing.
“Why don’t I save you the trouble and tell him myself?” I throw my free hand up in the air as I ask, gesturing wildly at his crude comments. The fear building in the back of my throat threatens to choke me because the one thing I’ve feared the most is that Harrison would do just that. I’m scared that he will tell Dom before I get a chance to explain.
I hang up on Harrison, leaving him to wonder if I will really do it or not. It’s in this moment that I decide, without a doubt, that I have to tell Dom. He deserves to know the game that’s being played, and my part in it, before the next stunt kills him. This scares me more than anything I’ve ever done - more than running into that burning building, more than what is at stake if I double-cross Harrison, and more than what anyone else will think of me.
Her Dom's Lesson (Dominic Powers Book 2) Page 1