Not Your Damn Dom (Denial Book 2)

by Amy Valenti

  I shook my head. “You’re not working with my story, Spencer.”

  He kissed me, hard and hungrily, and my Jekyll and Hyde comparison flew out of my head almost immediately. It wasn’t that important anyway, just something to provoke him. I slid my hand into his lap to confirm that he was pretty damn provoked.

  The next few minutes were spent trying not to jump his bones, and after we paid the surly cab driver we all but ran to the house.

  Tobias was home, which was clear from the fact that the downstairs lights were on. As I turned the key in the lock, he asked, “Are you gonna ask me to make nice with your housemate when I have a killer hard-on?”

  I grinned. “After all the times he’s stumbled into the house with someone and not bothered to introduce them before heading straight upstairs? I think I can get away with it.”

  I was right. Tobias didn’t even bother to call hello when he heard two sets of footsteps, but the volume of the TV noise coming from the lounge did increase a little. I towed Spencer up to my room immediately.

  “If you want that dress to stay in one piece, I suggest you remove it right now,” he told me, his eyes darkly ravenous as they moved over my body.

  I kicked off my shoes, shimmied out of my pantyhose, then removed the dress as slowly as my libido would let me. Then, not pausing for him to get a look at me fully naked, I dropped down to my knees in front of him and reached for his belt buckle. “Let me thank you for being my date tonight.”

  He stared down at me, his hands in fists at his sides, as I freed his cock from his pants and licked all the way up to the head. “Fuck, you’re killing me, Alex,” he murmured.

  “Think you can stay standing up?” I asked, then kissed his cock right at the tip.

  “I’ll do my best.” He put his hand on my head and guided me forward as I took him into my mouth.

  He was so hard, and I was determined to pay back the favour he’d done me by accompanying me tonight. I gazed up at him as I sucked him off, and he brushed his hand over my cheekbone as if I were so much more than just the woman he’d been sleeping with over the past few days. I moaned softly, and he groaned in response, tightening the fingers of his other hand in my hair. “Fuck me, you’re good at this.”

  It didn’t take long to push him over the edge—we’d been teasing each other with words for almost half an hour, and he was desperate for release. He growled as he came in warm spurts into my mouth, and I revelled in his unsteady stance, his undone expression. I knew women who hated giving head, saw it as debasing themselves or being used, but I loved the complete power of having a man’s cock in my mouth. I had the potential to give him pleasure or pain as I chose, and it was a heady feeling.

  I cleaned his cock with my tongue, then resumed my task of undressing him, starting with his pants. His tux’s shirt had way too many buttons, and he was able to distract me with kisses, pulling me backwards towards the bed and onto his lap as I tried to finish up. The white material finally parted, and I pressed my breasts against his chest, unwilling to wait until I’d stripped the thing off his arms. He surprised me by closing the shirt around us both. It wasn’t big enough to get the whole way around my body, but it got the message across—he was trapping me here with him.

  I smiled up at him. “You know, as sweet as that is, I’d rather strip that off you before I tear it. You’re ultra-fuckable in a tux, but out of it you make my brain short-circuit. I can’t be held responsible for my actions if I go insane with lust and rip the shirt from your defenceless body.”

  He let me strip it away, laughing softly. “Defenceless? Really?” As soon as the shirt had gone, he unbalanced me from his lap and onto the bed, then moved over me, pinning me down. “I’m bigger than you and stronger than you, remember? And I’m starting to realise that really, really turns you on.”

  I struggled against his wrists and moaned when I couldn’t move. “Does that mean you’re gonna take what you want from me?”

  “Unless I hear…” He interrupted himself by kissing me again. When he raised his head, I saw a flash of something that came and went in an instant, leaving no trace of it. “Unless I hear you tell me no within the next five seconds, I think I’ll be teasing an orgasm or two out of your pretty body.”

  As if I’d say no to that! “Yes, please.”

  Spencer kept my wrists pinned with one hand, but parted my thighs with the other, lying beside me on his side so he could dedicate himself to his task. “You want my fingers inside you, don’t you, Alex?”

  I nodded, whimpering when he coated those very fingers in the wetness covering my pussy. He rested his fingertips at the entrance, pushed just hard enough to make me think he’d thrust them inside, then began to tease my clit instead, circling and tapping and skating his fingers over it until I gasped his name like a curse, bucking my hips, desperate for more stimulation. “More, damn it!”

  He withdrew his hand altogether, and as I scowled at him he gave me a look that was purely mock hurt. “Is that any way to speak to someone who did an enormous favour for you tonight?”

  I wriggled, forcing him to tighten his grip. “No more games—just fuck me, please!”

  Spencer kissed me, parting my lips with his tongue as his fingers slid past my labia and up into my molten pussy. I groaned against his mouth, wild with need, trying to ride his fingers all the way to my climax, but then he stopped, drew back, still holding my wrists against the mattress.

  “If you’re sure you just want my cock…”

  “Anything,” I begged him, my mind scrambled. “Just make me come!”

  His weight pinned me down again, immobilising me as he worked his cock deep into me. “Oh, fuck, yes…” I whispered, nuzzling his neck.

  Spencer didn’t waste any more time. He was fully hard again, and his body and mine were in perfect accord as to what they needed. I wanted to grab his shoulders, dig my fingers into his muscular flesh, but he was still holding me down, though now he was really taking me I was freer to move the rest of my body. I loved being his captive this way, loved his weight and heat and the unrelenting pistoning of his hips. And just as I thought I’d never be able to get off, he reached down to rub my clit and I froze, trembled, then imploded into a climax that seemed to last for days.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered, trying to catch my breath, my body quivering with aftershocks.

  “No, just me,” he murmured, amused, and upped the pace of his thrusts, driving himself into his own orgasm.

  As he pulled out of me, I purred wordlessly and put my arms around him, but it seemed as though he wasn’t yet done. Dragging me so that I was lying on top of him, my head on his chest, he parted my thighs on either side of his waist and reached down to my clit again. I was already sensitive from my first climax and it took next to no time for me to fall deep into spasms of rapture again, gasping my orgasm against Spencer’s tattooed chest like a hallelujah.

  “Again,” he ordered, as though I could do it on command.

  It took him less than a minute to coax a third orgasm from my exhausted, wrung-out body, and I clung to him as if he were a rock in the middle of a high tide, trying not to completely lose my sanity as tears of exertion gathered in the corners of my eyes.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered, “you’re actually the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  Far from getting puffed up at the compliment to his awesome sexual prowess, Spencer just wound his arms around me and squeezed me tightly. That might have been the sexiest thing he’d done to date.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Three Months Later…

  Alex

  My nerves were just about killing me. Standing on the edge of the large, green-screened set, I stared at the train car I was going to be climbing about on for the rest of the day. “I’m starting to think I bit off more than I can chew with this role.”

  “Relax.” Spencer put an arm around me for a moment, kissed my temple, then let me go. “Just like we rehearsed, remember?”

  He pulled a balaclava
over his head and hoisted himself up onto the top of the train car, an anonymous assailant for me to fight. We’d gone over my routine time after time, even rehearsing here on the set, but doing it with the cameras in position and the director pacing around like an impatient wildcat was nerve-wracking.

  “Okay, you can do this.” I straightened my tank top, then went after Spencer. Bracing myself with my feet wide apart as if the train were moving, I let the rest of my body fall into the kickboxing stance that was now second nature to me. Months of daily training had really helped to refresh my memory.

  A few feet away from me, Spencer took up a similar position. If not for his familiar eyes peeking through the slot of the balaclava, I would have been intimidated. He looked like a paid assassin, faceless and ready to kill me.

  “Are we ready?” the director called.

  I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

  A moment or two later came the call for action.

  I kind of hated Spencer in that moment—the scene he’d choreographed was so elaborate, so completely insane, that I wasn’t sure I could pull it off now my performance really counted. But this was the first of many action scenes I’d be shooting and I had to get it together, so I ran towards him and threw all my weight into the first punch.

  After that, it wasn’t so hard—Spencer and I had rehearsed so often, it was almost like second nature to spar with him now. I had to stop myself from actually hitting him at one point because we often got physical with each other, using padding, at his place. It was different here—all about the choreography and the camera angles making it look as though I’d landed a huge blow on his jaw. I had to admit, watching him rock back like I’d seriously socked him one was pretty rewarding.

  Then came the part where I had to throw myself flat so that the digitally-added tunnel wouldn’t squish me. I hit the roof of the train car in a very uncontrolled fall that knocked the breath out of me, then almost fell off the roof of the train car when I rolled over to avoid Spencer’s next attack.

  “Whoa, there!” He grabbed me as my butt started sliding, and I collapsed in helpless laughter, the adrenaline surge fuelling the inappropriate response.

  “Cut.” The director was grinning, thank God, and several of the other crew members were snickering. “That went really well until the drop. Let’s take a couple of minutes and then start shooting from there again.”

  Spencer pulled off his balaclava, revealing his own grin. “Good work. Just remember to catch yourself on your forearms next time.”

  I somehow controlled my giggling as he sat beside me on the train car, our legs dangling off one side. One of the cameramen had a handheld aimed at us, so I smiled and waved. “You got all that for the DVD extras, didn’t you?”

  “Yup,” Felipe said.

  “We’re shooting Walk on Glass: the Romantic Comedy right now. If you want blood and guts and action, come back tomorrow.”

  Felipe lowered the camera with a laugh. “I think that’ll make the ‘Making of’ featurette for sure.”

  Great—my embarrassment immortalised on the DVD extras forever…

  I managed not to grimace as he walked away. “Seriously, was I doing okay?”

  Spencer nodded. “Don’t worry about it. You have any idea how many takes Callum needed to do a simple bar fight a few months ago? People don’t expect a perfect run-through immediately. You’ll realise that as you get used to it.”

  “I guess I’m kind of a perfectionist,” I confessed, stretching my arms out over my head. “Any advice before we go again?”

  He lowered his voice so no one but me would hear him. “If you don’t wanna be fighting a bad guy with a hard-on, please don’t stretch like that again.”

  I grinned and arched my back, keeping my arms over my head for a moment longer. “What, like this?”

  He groaned and stood up, then yanked me to my feet. “Tease.”

  “I’ll make it up to you later.” I handed him his balaclava and surreptitiously checked the front of his pants as he pulled it on. He was either managing to keep control of himself, or he’d been exaggerating in order to make me a little worked up. Either way, I was gonna make sure he kept it professional on set in future. I didn’t want to fall off the train car entirely next time.

  “Ready to go again?” The director and camera crew were back in place, the atmosphere fading back down to focused.

  “Ready when you are, Roland.”

  “Action.”

  I dropped down flat again, cushioning my blow a lot better this time, and was able to go through the rest of the routine with Spencer fairly smoothly. After Roland called for another cut, he ordered the actor Spencer was standing in for up onto the train for the big reveal, when I’d have to rip off his balaclava and discover the identity of my masked attacker, Scooby Doo style. Okay, so it was a little cheesy, but hey. The rest of the script was pretty good.

  Spencer and James switched places and we resumed filming. I ducked his simple punch, grabbed him in a headlock and ripped off his mask. He squirmed away, his face turned from me, and I went after him.

  “Let’s see who you are.”

  I grabbed him, faked a stumble back as he pretended to kick me hard in the solar plexus, then lunged after him as he crawled away. Pulling him onto his back, I stared down into the face of the guy who was supposed to be my CIA handler. “What the fuck?”

  “Marina—”

  I faked a vicious punch to his face and he pretended to be knocked unconscious.

  “And scene.” Applause broke out around me, and I blinked, returning from the character’s mindset to my own a little sluggishly. “Nice work, Alex.”

  “You okay?” I asked James, helping him up.

  “Think so. Remind me never to cross you, though,” he joked, rubbing his neck where I’d headlocked him.

  I winced, remembering the reason I’d been fighting Spencer rather than James for a lot of the scene—he’d been injured doing his own stunts for the last movie he’d been in. “Oh, James, I’m sorry. Did I break you?”

  He laughed. “Nah. We’re good.”

  “Take five, then let’s have the stunt doubles up there for some of the really crazy stuff.”

  I relaxed, glad of the respite. I had my own stunt double, though I was doing a lot more of my own stunts than James was. Sandy walked over to me now, dressed in the same outfit I was right down to the wrenched seam down one side of my shirt. The costume department had made sure there’d be no continuity errors, and here came the makeup and hair team to do their parts. The camera would never show Sandy’s face, but the smears of dirt down her arms and the wildness of her hair had to be the same.

  “Nice work out there,” Sandy said, enduring the hair stylist’s fussing.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing the really tough stuff,” I confessed.

  “It might look like Spencer and I are about to kill each other, but relax. We’ve done this before.” She winked and headed up onto the train car’s roof, where Spencer was already waiting.

  When the director called for action, I had to watch through my fingers. I’d never seen Spencer so vicious, and Sandy was giving back as good as she took—hanging off the side of the train car, then vaulting up to shove him off the opposite side so he was left dangling… It was intense to watch. When he grabbed her head and made as though he was bashing it against the roof—I just knew a close-up reaction shot would be required of me for that one later—I winced. After a few more complicated attacks and defences, Spencer sank his stunt-knife into her exposed side and she kicked him back so that he hit the roof with a thud. I hissed in sympathy.

  My man was gonna have some bruises tonight. I’d have to kiss them all better.

  * * * *

  Alex

  “Sorry I’m late! Whatcha reading?” Kat sat down next to me, pulling an apple from her purse. “God, I’m so jealous of you. Your arms are ripped.”

  “Having a personal trainer for a boyfriend has
its advantages.” I glanced down at my arms. Walk on Glass had wrapped last week, but I’d kept up my workouts with Spencer. Most of them were innocent, but some were downright kinky.

  Kinky? What had made me think that word? Oh, right—this script.

  I held it up for Kat to see. “I’m trying to avoid being typecast. I’ve had like six scripts for action roles come through my agent since the trailer for Walk on Glass was released yesterday, and I don’t want to be the wisecracking love-interest-slash-rival to the main action dude for the rest of my life. I need a change of pace. Not that I didn’t love playing Marina Lane. But roles like that don’t come along in every action movie. Most of the female leads are just there to play second fiddle to the main guy.”

  “Hard not to notice that in this business.” Kat nodded at the script. “So what’s this one like?”

  “It’s a drama, actually. A romantic drama. Never done anything like it before, and I might not take it if I have to do too much nudity-wise. It’s pretty interesting.”

  Kat smiled at our friend, Giselle, whom I’d been having lunch with before Kat had arrived. She’d just come back from the bathroom. “Hey, Zelle. Missed you last week.”

  She and Giselle had some shared commitment every couple of weeks, but I was kind of vague on the details. When I’d asked, they’d told me it was ‘just a bunch of people meeting up for food and a few drinks’. Some movie crew thing, maybe.

  “Sorry. I wanted to get there, but the execs moved the deadline for the script I was working on. You know the deal.”

  Kat grimaced. She was a set designer, and understood the demands of movie studio executives all too well. She and I had become good friends since I’d met her at the Seven Lies premiere a couple of months ago, and I’d heard a few horror stories. Not that actors had it easy. I had a few stories of my own.

  “Is that one of mine?” Giselle pointed to the script still in my hands.

  “Sorry, I haven’t gotten to reading yours yet.” I offered her a carrot stick as an apology, though she didn’t look hurt. “It’s called For Him. It’s a bit like that Fifty Shades thing people went nuts over a while back. You know, BDSM stuff?” I said.