Not Your Damn Dom (Denial Book 2)

by Amy Valenti

  * * * *

  Alex

  I spent part of my evening staring at the script for Owen and Dane’s D/s movie, wishing I’d taken the role when it had been offered to me. It was as close as I was going to get to submission while I was in a relationship with Spencer—that much seemed plain to me now.

  I hadn’t really thought Giselle’s suggestion would work, but it had been something to try. Now I had no options left. I had to either choose Spencer as he was—repressed and vanilla—or leave him and go after the kind of relationship I so dearly wanted.

  Our relationship had been great until I’d realised I was into this stuff. I’d been constantly surprised by the creative turns he took when it came to sex, and outside of it he’d been loving, warm, easy to be with—sometimes a little unreadable, but nothing I couldn’t ignore to focus on the positives.

  Now the veil had been pulled from my eyes, I understood. The sexual creativity came from his Dom side—he’d been expressing it to the only degree he’d allow himself now. We could go back to that, but every time he came up with some new game we’d both know where it came from. I’d have to pretend I was content with vanilla, and he’d be pretending too, and how were we supposed to go forward from here?

  I loved him, but love alone wasn’t enough if all I was doing was running up against the same brick wall. He didn’t trust me. He hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t said much of anything at all, which seemed to be his standard response to this whole issue.

  I didn’t tell Tobias about my argument with Spencer, and put on my happy face as we ate dinner together, but we’d known each other for years and I obviously wasn’t fooling him. Rather than discuss it with him, I asked him to distract me with news of his life. He’d been spending so much time at his current boyfriend’s place that I got the impression it was serious.

  Deciding to get an early night when Tobias’ phone rang and his face lit up, I went upstairs to my room and curled around my pillow. I had a text message from Callum asking if I was okay—Spencer must have told him about our fight.

  I sent him a quick message to reassure him I wasn’t planning to do anything drastic, then switched off my phone. At least that way, I could pretend Spencer was trying to reach me and just couldn’t get through.

  * * * *

  Alex

  I woke up early and decided to go for a run around the nearby park rather than let my thoughts run circles in my mind. Music blasting in my ears, I jogged the couple of blocks over there and increased my pace when I reached the park, pushing myself. Despite the heavy bass thundering from my earbuds into my head, my brain wouldn’t switch off.

  A hand caught my arm, and I shied instinctively away from the contact, pulling out my earbuds with one tug of the wire connecting them to my iPod.

  “It’s okay. Just me.” Spencer kept pace beside me.

  Torn between throwing myself into his arms and accelerating to leave him behind, I settled on just running without speaking. He seemed fine with that, running beside me until I finished my current circuit and slowed to a walk.

  Neither of us said anything on the way back to my place, though the tension between us was difficult to ignore. The silence stretched on as we both shed our muddy sneakers in the entryway and went through to the living room. If he didn’t speak soon, I was going to scream. What was he doing here, if he didn’t have anything to say?

  “I need to shower. What do you want?”

  “I want to hold you while you shower.”

  I scowled—did he really think he could pretend nothing had happened last night?—but before I could say anything, he held up his hand. “Just hold you. Nothing else.”

  I blinked, really looking at him for the first time since he’d appeared at my side. His expression was devoid of flirtation or lust, but there was a need in him I couldn’t deny. He needed me.

  Even though I was conflicted and angry and anxious about our future together, this was more important. I took his hand and led him upstairs.

  As the water warmed, I stripped off my own clothing without looking at him, as quickly as I would have if I’d been alone. He did the same and followed me into the shower cubicle, reaching for me before the door shut.

  The water fell over us as he held me, my cheek pressed against his chest, his arms tight around my waist. The skin to skin contact was comforting, and despite myself I began to relax.

  “I don’t understand,” I said quietly. The cubicle amplified my voice nevertheless. “What is this?”

  “Fucked if I know.” The typical Spencer response made me smile despite myself. “But we both need this.”

  I closed my eyes and held him in return. No matter how much we disagreed on the way our relationship should go, I always felt safe in his arms.

  “I love you,” I told him, fighting the tingle in my nose that always came before I cried. “I hate us not being okay.”

  “Me too.” He spoke against my hair, his voice slightly muffled. “But we’re not.”

  At least he wasn’t pretending our being naked together meant we were fine.

  “How do we fix it?” My chest ached. I didn’t know, and if he didn’t have any idea either…

  “I have an idea that might help a little.”

  I pulled back to look at him. Hope and doubt were both in his expression, fighting for the upper hand.

  “Tell me.”

  “When we’re done in here.” He kissed my forehead, then reached for the soap. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to seduce you. We just need to get clean.”

  He soaped up his hands and started washing his own body, respecting boundaries I wasn’t even sure were there anymore. My heart wrenched. Any other guy would have taken advantage, tried to screw their way back into my good books.

  Spencer wasn’t just any guy. He had his faults, but they couldn’t cancel out his innate decency.

  I soaped up my own hands and reached for him. “Turn around.”

  He turned his broad back to me and I rubbed soap over his tense shoulder blades and up to the slope where his shoulders met his neck. He was so muscular that a full massage would have taken me forever, but after bowing his head to allow me better access for a couple of minutes, he turned around again and kissed my lips slowly, gently.

  “I trust you. I’d put my life in your hands without a second thought,” he told me, his gaze intense.

  There was no uncertainty in him now, just complete conviction. He made me believe without asking me to do so.

  “I told you before; it’s myself I don’t trust. As a submissive, you’re…” He shook his head, smiling a little now. “Everything I could want. More than I deserve.”

  Warmth filled me, spilling out from my heart to the rest of my body. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t doubt yourself. My fucked-up issues are from before I knew you. Understand?”

  His tone was so dominant that I couldn’t help but say it. “Yes, Sir.”

  Instead of getting mad or uncomfortable, he smiled. “Now, seriously—hands off for the rest of this shower. We need to talk once we’re done, and I want to get it over with.”

  It was the first businesslike shower we’d ever shared, and if we never had a second, that would be fine with me. Afterwards, dried and half-dressed, we sat together on my bed.

  “What’s your plan?” I asked, unable to bear wondering about it anymore.

  He sighed, rubbed his hand across his face. “Callum told me last night that Kat tracked Kristin down.”

  I caught my breath. That, I had not been expecting. I didn’t know if I wanted to hug Kat or break her nose.

  “Apparently, she’s here in Los Angeles because she wants to talk to me.” He shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her. Kat and Callum have a phone number I can reach her on. But I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

  “Define ‘it’,” I said carefully. I didn’t really think he was about to suggest doing a scene with Kristin or anything like that, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.
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br />   “I don’t want her back. That bridge is crossed and burned. Even if she asked—and I don’t think she would—it wouldn’t be an option for me.”

  I gave a mental sigh of relief. “Okay.”

  “I do want to talk to her. Get some closure if I can. And I owe it to her to listen, even if she’s just here to blame me some more.” He looked away, out of the window. His jaw was tight.

  I took his hand, bringing his attention back to me. “If she blames you, it doesn’t mean she’s right.”

  He shrugged. “I dunno how it’s gonna go, Alex. But maybe talking to her will help me put this behind me. That’s…pretty much my only plan. And it might take a while.”

  “If you need it, Sir, I can go slow. Baby steps. As long as we’re getting somewhere and not just running up against the same dead end we have been.”

  I had my own doubts about this, to match his, but hope overruled them. He was trying, and as long as we were moving forward, even at a snail’s pace, I could be patient.

  Spencer relaxed, pulling me against him. “We okay, pretty girl?”

  “We’re okay.” I kissed his chest tattoo, then looked up into his face. “Does that mean we get to have make-up sex now?”

  His response was non-verbal, very demonstrative and completely memorable.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Six months later…

  Alex

  My stomach had been flipping like a pancake for the past two days, every time I thought of what I was about to do. But I was desperate. This was my last resort. What else could I do?

  I’d been so filled with hope after Spencer had first told me about talking to Kristin. For a couple of weeks, that optimism hadn’t faded. We loved each other, and once Spencer had talked to Kristin we’d start making small, slow steps towards the kind of D/s relationship we both wanted.

  That hope had been severely bruised the day Spencer told me Kristin was ignoring not only his calls, but Kat’s and Callum’s, too. None of them even knew if she was still in Los Angeles. It hadn’t seemed likely.

  I’d tried so hard to hold onto positivity after that, but it was as if Spencer had decided that talking with Kristin was the only way he’d be able to deal with his past. Since she wasn’t around, we’d stopped moving forward in our relationship; gone back to pretending vanilla was fine.

  I’d tried so hard to be supportive, but anytime I broached the subject of D/s with him, he got defensive or just shut down the conversation, refusing to face his fears with me.

  And it had been so many months now. I’d have gone as slowly as he needed as long as we were making some progress. But although I loved him, and being around him most of the time, I was beginning to resent him for letting things stagnate, and that scared the shit out of me.

  I had to try something.

  After checking my hair and makeup one last time, I walked into Spencer’s living room hoping to make an impression. I’d chosen my tight, lacy camisole and short black, pleated skirt to appeal to his Dominant side.

  “Come on a date with me?” I asked, holding out my hand.

  Spencer set his notepad and pen aside and pulled me into his arms. His eyes were dark with appreciative hunger. “I can’t keep you at home in bed all night?”

  “No.” I put my palms on my chest, preventing him from kissing me, though I’d have loved to surrender.

  This close up, he could tell I was nervous about something, and his face grew guarded. “Where did you want to go?”

  Come on, Alex. Don’t turn back now.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I said, “Scene One.”

  He released me, stepped back. “Goddamn it, Alex—“

  “Not to play,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I just want to see the sights. I’ve never been to a fetish club before, and I’m curious. I thought we could watch some scenes together.”

  He turned his back on me angrily. “I’m not gonna encourage you. It’s not fair to either of us.”

  “Encourage me! I want you to!” I lost my temper. “Anything to spend a little time with the Spencer who’s not running from who he is.”

  “I’m not taking you to Scene One. End of story.”

  I closed my eyes, my shoulders slumping. Yet another compromise shot down. I was running out of options. “And you still won’t play with me here?”

  “No,” he growled. “We’ve talked about this.”

  Anger overruled my patience. I’d put time and effort into getting prettied up—I wasn’t gonna waste it now. “Okay, then. I’ll go alone.”

  “The hell you will!” he retorted, but I was already heading for the door. He stormed out into the hall after me.

  With clumsy hands, I pulled on my boots, then stood by the apartment entrance, meeting his betrayed gaze as steadily as I could. “If you’re not gonna Dom me, I’ll find someone who will. I won’t let them touch me anywhere sexually, but if that’s not good enough for you, then I guess we’re over.”

  “Don’t you dare walk out that door, Alex,” he told me, his voice low and dangerous.

  “If you give me that order as a Dom to his sub, I’ll obey.” I suppressed a sob, my lips shaking. “Otherwise I’m going to Scene One.”

  He ground his teeth, but looked away. He wasn’t going to fight for me? Not at all?

  “I’ll text you when I get home to let you know that I’m safe,” I said, then fled before I could change my mind.

  It was easy enough to dodge the smattering of paparazzi who’d followed me from my place to Spencer’s earlier. I’d been doing a lot of promotional interviews and TV spots for Walk on Glass recently—it was only a few weeks until its premiere screening now, and the press had really started to take notice. A couple of the photographers jumped into their cars to give chase, as though they sensed that this time, if they could tail me to where I was going, they’d have a real scoop on their hands.

  A few quick turns off my expected route, into a maze of residential backstreets, then back out onto the highway as just an anonymous vehicle, and I was safe.

  I did put on a pair of shades and fluff my hair around my face before I got out of the car, though. Being seen entering a fetish club wouldn’t go down well with my agent, co-stars or any of the movie studios I’d been working with recently.

  Inside, the receptionist made me sign a non-disclosure agreement, which made me wonder if I should have had an NDA form to make her sign. She smiled when I took off my shades. “Good to make your acquaintance, Ms. Ashford. First time here?”

  I nodded. “I’m assuming I’m not the only celebrity in attendance?” Since Callum had once been a regular here and no one had ever outed him, I was assuming I was safe.

  “Not at all. You’d be surprised how many famous people we get here. Don’t worry—everyone signs the non-disclosure their first time here.”

  I read the rules she directed me to, paid the extortionate cover charge and headed through the set of doors, squaring my shoulders.

  Instead of a room, I stepped into a hallway that branched two ways. A sign directed me left for the social area and right for the dungeon. I decided a drink was most definitely in order and went to the left.

  The large space I arrived at was both intimate and classy. Couches and tables were dotted about, and another sign directed me to go downstairs if I wanted to dance. The last thing I felt like doing was dancing, so I ordered a drink at the bar instead.

  Some sort of virgin cocktail in hand—I shouldn’t have been surprised that no alcohol was served here—I leaned against the bar and gazed around me. EBM music came up the stairs from the dance area, loud enough to recognise and enjoy but not enough to stifle conversation. I got the sense being heard was important here.

  I sensed a few curious looks as I stood there, feeling like I didn’t belong and wishing like hell that I hadn’t done what I had to Spencer. If that’s not good enough for you, I guess we’re over. I hated myself. And I had no intention of doing anything but checking the place out tonight.
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br />   Was he drowning his sorrows? Kicking the stuffing out of his punching bag? Or had he just decided to accept my decision?

  “I knew I recognised that gorgeous bone structure.”

  I blinked up into Owen Hayward’s eyes and smiled automatically. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Your enthusiasm staggers me.” He clutched his heart melodramatically for a moment.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad night. It’s not you.”

  “Did you bring Spencer with you?”

  I shook my head as Jay joined us. “I’m solo tonight. He still doesn’t want anything to do with this.”

  “I’m sorry.” Owen really did look as if he meant it.

  Jay shrugged, though I did see compassion in his eyes. “His loss is our gain. Come and sit with us.”

  Why did I have the feeling they were about to proposition me? Nevertheless, sitting with them was better than standing alone at the bar. I joined them at their table.

  “What do you think of Scene One?” Jay asked.

  Grateful for the subject not being Spencer, I shrugged. “I got here less than ten minutes ago. So far it seems nice.”

  He and Owen exchanged a look. “Does that mean you haven’t seen the dungeon yet?” Owen asked.

  I nodded.

  “Stand up,” he ordered, getting to his feet. “We need to give you an education.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I held up the hand that didn’t have a drink in it. “I need to finish this first, and I never said I’d go to the dungeon with you.”

  “Relax,” he said, grinning. “There’s a voyeurs’ area. You can bring your drink along. And we promise not to drag you in there by the hair. Right, Jay?”

  “Not unless you ask us to,” Jay said with a casual shrug.

  I reminded myself these guys were known and respected Doms on the scene. “All right. Show me.”

  They escorted me back through the door into the hallway and down the right-hand fork of the corridor. A couple of steps down, I heard faint thuds and slaps, punctuated by the occasional moan or whimper. My body knew what it wanted, responding immediately to the sexual noises.