by M. S. Parker
“You care,” I said, my voice hitching. Dammit. “Or you think you care.”
“Aleena…”
I tugged his hand away and stepped to the side to put some distance between us. “Why are you apologizing to me, Dominic?”
He stood there, staring at me, confusion on his face. Finally, he shoved a hand through his hair. It tumbled right back into place. The unkempt hair and the tight set of his jaw gave him a slightly edgy look, a slightly wild look, a slightly wicked look. I curled my fingers into fists and rested them behind me. I wanted to reach for him. So bad.
“I already told you. Look…” He stopped and sighed. “My mother has this class issue. I hate it, but I can’t change her. I should have said something and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Oh…your mother has a lot more problems than issues with class,” I said and this time, I didn’t hold back the scorn, or the anger I felt. It burned away some of the pain, or at least hid it.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Aleena, half the people I know—no, more than that—tend to have class issues. I don’t like it, but it’s not like I’m friends with them. I don’t hang out with them. I’m not looking for friendship or anything with them. It’s just how they are.”
“How they are.” I nodded. “And let me explain just how they are. If they're anything like your mother, they're racist, narrow-minded elitist assholes.”
Dominic jerked his head back as if I’d slapped him. “She’s not—”
I took a step forward, letting the little spark inside me burst into a full-fledged flame. “Don’t you dare tell me she’s not racist! What the hell? You think she was calling me exotic because I’m not rich?”
“Aleena…” He opened his mouth, closed it. I could see in his eyes that he knew.
“You’ve never been in my shoes. You can’t know what it's like.” I curled my hands into fists so he couldn't see them shaking. “Now I’m pretty sure if I was some little blond-haired, blue-eyed white girl and she walked in on us, she might have been plenty disgusted, but it goes a lot deeper than that. Because I’m not. She saw me, saw a little colored girl…she saw your hired help and she totally dismissed me as a person. I’m not a person to her.”
Tears burned my eyes now and I swiped them away as they fell. “And you just sat there.”
He reached for me.
I held up a hand. “Don’t. I can’t—” My voice broke and I just shook my head.
The silence that fell was horrible. My heart felt like it was going to split in two as I struggled to get the tears under control. I didn’t want to break in front of him. I wouldn’t break in front of him. After a few moments, I managed to stop the flood and I stared at him. He looked…lost.
“Why did you just sit there?” I asked. “I told you about what had happened to me before. You knew how much her words would hurt me and you just sat there.”
Dominic looked around and finally, he just slid down to the floor. It was…incongruous. I did the same thing, taking up the space on the wall opposite him, and staring at his pale face.
“I’m adopted,” he said softly.
Those were the last two words I expected him to start this conversation off with. I said nothing, just stared and waited for him to make sense.
“I…” He drove his head back against the wall, hard. Hard enough to hurt, I’d think, but he didn’t even blink. “My mother and I haven’t had a good—or easy—relationship in…well. Ever. I know she loves me, but things were never easy. I think she thought she’d be getting this sweet, quiet, gentle little doll she could dress up in doll clothes and parade around in front of her friends and then she could put me back in a box until it was time for the next occasion to show me off.”
The words weren't bitter, just matter-of-fact.
“I don’t know who my birth mother is. For all I know, she was…” He sneered now, infusing the words with the patrician tones I didn't doubt he'd heard from his mother. “Some ‘low-class tramp of a girl’.” He angled his head to the side. “That wasn't the first time she’d walked in on me with a woman, Aleena. And that phrase? That was what she said to a girl I’d brought home with me when I was a teenager. She was a nice girl. I…I think I could have liked her. But she ran out crying after that and never talked to me again.”
“It sounds like your mother enjoys belittling people,” I said.
“She does.” Dominic’s mouth tightened. “I love her, but I don’t really like her.”
With a start, I realized that I felt sorry for him. Sorry for this rich, privileged man who'd grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. Folding my hands in my lap, I thought back over my childhood and realized that maybe it hadn’t been as rough as I’d thought. Yeah, I’d often been ostracized—I'd been the outsider, but some had been through choice. I’d been smart and not like the flirty, giggly girls who cared about clothes and gossip. And I'd been the girl who was never quite white enough or never quite black enough to be accepted into either social circle.
But I had parents who loved me and worked hard to make a good life for me. No matter how bad things had gotten at school, I'd always known that I had a refuge at home.
“She didn’t know how to handle me and my dad…” Dominic shrugged. “He just ignored me. Neither of them knew what to do with a kid, so I…well. I sort of ran wild. I ran really wild. It took...some things to happen for me to get my act together and there are still a lot of issues between me and my mom. I don’t even talk to my dad, so she's all I have. But when she starts talking about class...”
“You think of your birth mother,” I said, understanding dawning.
His eyes came to mine.
“Does she know anything about your birth mother?”
“I’ve never outright asked.” Dominic jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “I…” He abruptly shot to his feet, the motion so sudden, it caught me off guard. “When I say there are problems between my mother and I, I mean serious problems. She uses guilt like a personal accessory and half the time, I just maintain the status quo. It’s easier. I never…”
It was my turn to come to my feet and he turned to me.
“When you’ve never been on the receiving end, Dominic, it’s probably pretty easy to overlook something like racism—especially the casual kind.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not like she stood there and shrieked at you about daring to sleep with a black girl. Subtle racism though…it’s just as real. It’s just as ugly.”
“It won’t happen again,” he said, his voice rough and tight.
I shook my head. “It will. You already said, you can’t change how she thinks and you know you can’t change how she acts. But the next time she does it…I won’t just sit there. And—”
He cut me off, his hands cupping my face while one thumb pressed to my mouth.
“I won’t just sit there either,” he promised. “I won't let her do that again.”
Chapter 6
Aleena
Still staring at him, I held my breath until his thumb slid over my lower lip, then fell away.
I licked my lips, tasting him there.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. But he took a step back.
Without even thinking, I moved closer.
“I…” I took a deep breath. “Okay, so you said you haven't done relationships. If that's what this is, what it's going to be, I think we just had what probably counts as our first fight, followed by our first make-up.” My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to go forward. Dominic may have been the dominant one when it came to sex, but it was clear, he was going to need a push here. “Now this is where—and I could be wrong—but I think this is where we are supposed to have make-up sex.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened. “Is that a fact?” His voice was low, rough.
I nodded, my face heating as he watched me.
“Just what is make-up sex? What does it entail?”
I shrugged. “I think that’s up to us and what we want. You’ve pretty much
made it clear you’re not the hearts and flowers sort of guy, so…”
He reached towards me, wrapping his large hands around my wrists.
“No. I don’t do hearts and flowers,” he said.
He backed me up against the wall and dragged my hands up, held them there. Then he leaned in and kissed me, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that left me sighing in dazed hunger when he finally shifted his attention to my jaw.
“I could give you hearts and flowers though,” he said into my ear. “Is that what you want?”
“I just want you.” The confession was barely a whisper.
For a brief moment, he didn't move and I wondered if he'd heard me.
Then he leaned back and stared at me. “Leave your hands up,” he said.
I did, although they slid down some without the support from his.
He cocked a brow, but said nothing, reaching for the big, fuzzy buttons that held my sweater closed. I’d changed after I came home, needing something familiar to comfort me. My favorite sweater and leggings had seemed to fit the bill.
He opened the sweater, but didn’t remove it. It hung open down my torso as he freed the front catch on my bra. “I think I like this style of bra on you,” he said as he slid one hand up to cup my breast, pausing to pluck at my nipple.
I gasped when he gave a particularly hard tug that sent jolts of heat arrowing down to my pussy. How did he know exactly what I needed?
He continued on his path after that, shoving his hands into my leggings and panties, shoving them down, but not completely stripping them away. When I was half naked, he backed away and just stared at me.
I felt terribly exposed, somehow more naked than if he had stripped me completely.
He slid a hand down the midline of my body, from my sternum to my navel and on down until he could slide the tip of his fingers through the thin curls gathered between my thighs. I whimpered and shoved myself forward, seeking out his touch.
He immediately stopped.
“I didn’t tell you that you could move.” There was no doubting that tone.
Anticipation flooded me and he tugged me off the wall.
“Kneel, Aleena.”
I went to my knees, uncertain what to do with my hands, but I figured it out a moment later.
He used the flat of his hand between my shoulder blades and nudged me forward until I was on my hands and knees, then kept on pushing until my face was on the ground, my ass up in the air.
I didn’t even have time to brace myself before he spanked me.
It was hard and almost too painful, but heat still exploded through me. I cried out, squeezing my eyes closed.
He did it again and again and then I felt him plunging two fingers inside me.
I came, hard and fast.
I didn’t even have a chance to come down from it before he drove inside me. The slick, cool feel of his cock told me he’d donned a condom at some point. He thrust deep, deep, deep...forcing me to stretch to accommodate him.
When he could go no farther, he stopped.
Then he spanked me again.
Another thrust.
Then he slapped my other cheek.
He kept that rhythm up until I was sobbing and begging for release. And then he stopped and stroked the pads of his fingers against the sensitive skin of my bottom. I quivered, tensed in anticipation, but all he did was wait for me to calm.
It took forever.
Denied the pleasure of orgasm, I was about ready to sob when he started to fuck me again.
He did it over and over, taking me to the edge and then stopping right when I was ready to come.
My leggings were trapped around my knees, my sweater and bra still caught and tangled around my arms and shoulders. My body was shaking so badly that I couldn't have moved even if I'd been free.
I gasped when he tangled a hand in my hair and forced my head up, bending my back to an almost unnatural degree. I could feel the muscles cramping.
Now he moved slower inside me, his cock swelling and rasping against my walls. He caught my hand and guided it between my thighs. “Touch yourself.”
I tried to pull my hand away. I didn't want to make myself come. I wanted him to do it.
“Do it, Aleena…or I’ll pull out and you won’t come tonight. Not from me.”
“Bastard,” I snarled, a sudden flare of anger going through me. Then I tensed, remembering that I'd been punished simply for speaking out of turn. Had I gone too far?
To my surprise, he laughed and drove hard and high up into me, eliciting a high-pitched sound I'd never made before.
“Do it.”
I did, still angry, but needing release more.
And finally, he let me come.
After, he carried me to bed. His bed. He slid me under the covers and then stretched out behind me, not touching but close enough for me to feel the heat from his body.
“I think for our first round of make-up sex, that went pretty well,” Dominic said. He sounded casual, but there was a world of uncertainty lying under it.
“I'm pretty sure the person who's in the wrong is the one who's supposed to be punished.” Despite the pleasure throbbing through my body, I couldn't quite hide the anger in my voice.
The bed shifted as he moved and suddenly he was above me. “You're angry with me.”
Now that we were done, I could feel all of the pushed down emotions starting to come up. “You were the one who screwed up, but I'm on my hands and knees getting beaten like some kid who got caught doing something wrong.” Tears burned in my eyes.
“Why didn't you say your safe word?” There was a tinge of annoyance in his question.
I sat up, wincing as my ass rubbed against the sheets. I held the sheet against my breasts even though it was dark in the room and he'd already seen me naked. “I'm sorry if I'm not experienced enough in this to automatically think of that when my ass is burning.” I spit the words out and started to climb off the bed.
“Aleena.” He put his hand on my arm.
I almost shook it off. I hadn't told him to stop. He hadn't forced me. I just hadn't realized...I forced myself to say it. “The first night we were together...I knew that wasn't how you liked sex. And then the other night...I enjoyed it. I'd just thought...” The tears spilled over and I wiped at them, hating myself for crying, but unable to stop it.
“Thought what?” His voice was soft and closer than before. He was right behind me. “Talk to me, please.”
“Nothing.”
“Aleena.”
It was that commanding tone that hit something deep inside me. “You hurt me, Dominic.” He caught his breath and I quickly clarified what I meant. “I don't mean physically. I mean, my ass hurts, but that's not the point. What you did, or didn't do, with your mom, it hurt me, and then you say you're sorry.”
“I am.”
“But then, instead of...” My voice hitched. “Instead of taking care of me and showing me how sorry you were, you treated me like...like I was just there to be used.”
“Used you.” There was pain in those words. His arms went around me, pulling me back to him, pulling me onto his lap. “Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.” He kissed my forehead. “I didn't think.”
I wanted to push him away and leave. To quit like I'd originally said I would. I also wanted to press myself closer to his chest and never leave.
“I promised to teach you and then I fucked it up.” His hand moved up and down my arm slowly. “I let myself get caught up in how much I wanted you and forgot how innocent you are.”
I almost laughed at that, but I let him talk. I needed to know what he was thinking before I could decide what I wanted to do.
“A good Dominant is supposed to take care of the Submissive in the relationship, but sex was never about a relationship or emotions. There were clear rules set in place before sex, and I never had to worry about...after. I'm good at dominating in the bedroom, at making sure my partner comes, but this...this is a part of it that's new to me.” He too
k my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head so our eyes met. “I failed to do my part.” He brushed his fingers across my cheek. “All I thought about was wanting to make you come, and I didn't even consider how it would...” He looked away.
“Hey.” I reached up and put my hand on his cheek, turning his face back to me. “It's okay. I understand.” And I did. He'd thought he was making it up to me by making me come so hard I couldn't see straight. On that part, he'd succeeded.
“It's not okay.” His expression was serious. “I don't know if I can not be this way, not be in control.”
“I'm not asking you to be submissive.” I didn't fully understand what the capital 'S' term meant, but I knew enough to get my point across. “But I need you to teach me what it means to be in your world.” I swallowed hard. “But only if you want this to be more than sex. I can't do this if this is all there is.”
He captured my hand and turned his head, kissing my palm. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he murmured. He turned back towards me. “I want more.”
My heart gave a wild leap. He bent his head and brushed his lips across mine, a gentle touch.
“Now, lay down on your stomach.”
I stared at him. He couldn't be serious.
“Part of being a Sub means obeying when your Dom tells you something,” he said. “Trusting him.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “And that means the Dom has to earn the trust.” He kissed my temple. “Please, Aleena.”
I did as he said, my stomach clenching. I heard him moving around, but couldn't see well enough to see what he was doing. Suddenly, the scent of cinnamon filled the air. He moved the sheet and I sucked in a breath when I felt his hands on my ass. As he began to rub what I assumed was lotion into my stinging skin, I started to relax, the pain fading.
He paused for a moment and leaned down to kiss my shoulder blade. “We can do this.”
I didn't say anything as he went back to massaging in the soothing lotion. He was right. We were in new territory for both of us, but we could do it.
Chapter 7
Aleena