by M. S. Parker
We hadn’t spoken of it since and as far as I was concerned, it was done.
What I was finding disconcerting was that I found myself thinking of words like…love. She’d said them to me, so easily. Only once, but I knew she’d meant them. I hadn’t been able to say them to her out loud, but lately, more and more, I found myself saying them silently, in my head.
Last night, I’d even mouthed them against her shoulder as she fell asleep. In my bed. Again.
I’d thought about telling her.
Maybe I would. Tonight. I smiled at the thought of it. Maybe…
“Mr. Snow.”
I came to a halt as Stan Kowalski rose from the bench just outside the front doors of Trouver L’Amour. Annette had suggested benches scattered around the grounds for those who’d like to walk around and talk in a more structured and protected environment.
I hadn’t foreseen having a private investigator use one of them to lie in wait for me, but clearly, that was what he’d been doing.
“Good morning, Mr. Kowalski,” I said slowly. I forced myself to push aside all the thoughts of Aleena and focus on him. He was here for a reason.
He smiled at me. Tapping an envelope against his thigh, he strode toward me. “Oh, it’s a beautiful morning, that’s for sure.” He stopped a few feet away and nodded. “Yes, very beautiful.”
I eyed him thoughtfully, then asked, “Have you learned anything new?”
“Yes.” He nodded, satisfaction evident in his voice. “Oh, yes, I have, Mr. Snow. I think I’ve got something that could well help us find your birth mother.”
Serving HIM Vol. 6
Chapter 1
Aleena
Harsh, golden sunlight pierced my eyes and I immediately jerked upright.
Just as immediately, I regretted it.
Groaning, I sagged back on the bed and squinted up at the ceiling overhead. The ceiling wasn’t mine. The slant was all wrong and the design…yeah, not mine. The windows allowing the sunlight to slant in and blind me? Not my windows.
Ergo, I wasn’t in my room. Again.
Rolling my head to the side, I let my eye open a little more and saw the posts of the bed, a very familiar bed. I’d fallen asleep last night with Dominic wrapped around me.
It had been…intense. I shivered a little at the memory.
Forcing both eyes open, I looked around, but Dominic was already gone. There wasn’t a clock—Dominic wasn’t much on having his time interrupted by menial things like, well, time. He was a punctual person, but when we stepped in here, the outside world ceased to exist.
I sighed. Unfortunately, the outside world kept moving forward and that meant I had to get out of bed, especially since I had the feeling that I was late. Judging by the angle of the sun, it was well after eight.
Dominic was probably already at the office. I grimaced. It was Monday and I should have been up and moving, heading out there with him so we could spend the first hour or so syncing his work and personal calendars. I’d have to call him and let him know that I was running a bit behind.
I rolled onto my back and winced. When we'd gotten back here Saturday night, after he'd taken my ass for the first time, he'd brought me to his room and told me to stay, saying he'd need me again. And he had. Again, and again. We'd spent almost all of yesterday in bed. Well, metaphorically at least, and my body was sore enough to prove it.
Moving gingerly, I looked around and saw that he had tidied up at some point, cleaning and putting away the toys he'd used. That didn't surprise me. He believed in taking care of his possessions.
And me.
My fingers lightly touched my neck where his collar had been all day yesterday. I missed it—that symbol of how I belonged to him. A reminder that I was his.
I smiled, remembering how he’d massaged out the tension in my arms, shoulders and back after he’d released me from the ropes he’d used on me last night. He’d carried me to the bathroom and held me as we sat in the tub, his fingers coaxing me to a less intense, but still pleasurable, orgasm. Afterwards, he’d dried me off, slicked me all up and down with lotion, and carried me back to the bed, not letting me do a thing. I’d felt pampered and treasured. Completely adored.
After the weekend we’d had, I felt like I was starting to truly understand what it meant to be a Sub, and it was so much more than I’d ever imagined. So much deeper.
Then the guilt came back. I'd let him down. I hadn’t trusted him.
The pictures flashed through my mind and I wanted to hit something. Preferably Penelope, although a wall would do, anything to empty myself of the frustration and anger building inside me.
“I should have trusted you more. I was wrong. Can you—”
My throat went tight as I remembered trying to explain to him—how I’d felt, what it had done to me to see those pictures. I should have trusted him, but it had hurt so much, brought up memories of the first boy I'd ever slept with. The only person besides Dominic I'd ever had sex with. That guy had used me. But I should have known that Dominic wasn't like that. It had been wrong of me, and I'd kept apologizing until he’d pulled me close and kissed me.
“It’s over. We don’t look back. You trust me. I trust you.”
Dominic had been angry though and I'd felt it Saturday night. But even then, I’d mostly felt his need. Now, I ached from it. Ached with it. More than the guilt, more than my own self-directed anger, and the anger I’d felt at Penelope, his need lingered.
Smiling, I slid a hand down my torso, imagining it was his mouth. There was no longer a part of me that he hadn’t touched, hadn’t claimed. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet this morning, but I knew there were marks on my neck, my breasts, my thighs. Marks made by his mouth. Bruises where his hands had gripped my hips so tightly. Then there were the invisible ones, the ones no one would see, but I would feel. The tender skin on my ass where he'd spanked me, used a flogger. The ache between my legs where he'd slammed into my pussy until I'd screamed. My ass, throbbing from his fingers and his magnificent cock.
My own fingers brushed over my clitoris and I gasped. It was already swollen and sensitive, or maybe it was just still that way, after being teased and tormented so wonderfully.
A lash of heat swelled through me and I bucked my hips. Eyes closed, I pictured he was here, with me. Again. Slowly, I circled my fingers over my clit. Then, quicker, faster. Dipping them inside, I flexed them, stretched them, opened them. My pussy was tight and it gripped me.
Moaning, I rolled over onto my belly and started to ride my hand. In my mind, it was Dominic.
He was under me.
Behind me.
Surrounding me.
He overwhelmed me and controlled me and dominated me in so many ways.
He owned me.
I gasped out his name as I climaxed.
***
I made short work of my shower and dressed. I needed to make up for lost time. I was ready in no time and dialed Dominic’s cell to let him know I'd be on my way in just a few minutes. As soon as I found my other shoe.
He answered, but his voice was distracted.
“Ah…hi.” My hand was damp as I gripped the phone. Instinctively, I knew something was wrong.
“Good morning, Aleena,” he said quietly.
“Good morning.” I looked out the window, staring outside into the park, my shoe forgotten. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s…”
I heard it, the lie he was ready to voice. Then he blew out a breath. “Shit, I don’t know. I’m in a meeting. It’s…personal.”
“Oh. I…” I frowned as I tried to remember what he'd had on his schedule for this morning. “I just wanted to let you know that I was running late this morning. Didn't want you to be worried. I’m sorry I overslept.”
Dominic chuckled. It was a heady, intimate sound and it warmed the parts of me that had gone cool at the sound of his distant voice only seconds ago. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't about me. “I’m not sorry at all.”
&nbs
p; “Oh. Well…um. I’ll be there soon.” Where was my damn shoe?
“No.” Although the tension didn’t return to his voice, he still didn’t sound quite himself. “Just work there today, okay?”
“Okay.” I hesitated and then asked, “Are you alright, Dominic?”
“I will be. I’ll see you later, Aleena.”
The called ended before I had the chance to reply and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to figure out what had happened.
It wasn’t distance, I realized. He wasn't pushing me away and he wasn't angry.
He was upset. Cool, in control, Dominic Snow was upset enough to be distracted.
That scared the hell out of me.
Chapter 2
Dominic
I stared at the documentation covering the table.
I leaned back, wishing I were in my office where I could pace. Lacing my hands behind my neck, I tried to still the restlessness burning inside me, although I knew it was a futile exercise.
“So do you want me to pursue this?”
I'd almost forgotten Stanley Kowalski was there even though he'd been the one to bring me the documents. He'd been waiting for me outside of Trouver L'Amour first thing this morning and had said he had something. We'd gone to a nearby diner to discuss matters. And we definitely had things to discuss.
He’d talked to my father.
I hadn’t talked to my father in so long, I couldn’t even recall the sound of his voice. Through the grapevine, I’d kept up with him to some extent. I knew he’d remarried five years ago. I knew he had two children. Two children who were biologically his. Two polite, well-behaved little Snows who were the exact opposite of me. His flesh and blood, ready to be molded into whatever he wanted them to be.
“What did you think of my father?” I asked Kowalski woodenly.
There was no immediate answer.
His face held no expression, his eyes carefully blank. He was good, I thought. Maybe I should hire him for any future investigative work I needed for the Winter Corporation. He just couldn’t be ruffled. I appreciated that. But I had the feeling I’d surprised him.
“What did I think of him?” he asked, parroting my question back at me.
“Yes. What did you think of him?”
He angled his head, pondering the question. Then, he leaned forward. “If I give you my honest response, is it going to piss you off?”
“No.” One corner of my mouth twitched.
“I think he’s the biggest dick I’ve met in a very long time.” Kowalski’s smile was coolly polite, but his eyes gleamed. “I’ve worked with some of the crème de la crème, Mr. Snow. I’ve met assholes unlike anything you can imagine and your father takes the cake.”
“I’ve met my share of assholes, Mr. Kowalski.” A couple of faces flashed through my mind, not excluding a few men I'd had to deal with recently.
A faint smile curled his lips and he shrugged, a gesture far more casual than any he’d used so far. “Pardon me for being blunt here, but I grew up in the Bronx. It’s a different world than what you know. You see things different. You’re not quite as stiff in the neck as some of your peers, but even you see the world around you in a particular fashion. Your father, men like him? They see the world in two groups: their peers and everyone beneath them. It’s one thing to deal with an asshole. It’s another thing to deal with an asshole who doesn’t even see you as a person.”
I thought of how Aleena had said something similar regarding race and how people in my mother's social circle looked at her.
Kowalski brought my attention back by gesturing at the papers in front of me. “I need to know, would you like to continue with what I’ve uncovered, Mr. Snow?”
I looked back down at the papers. Even though there were several of them, they all dealt with the same thing. Adoptions in the state of New York the year I was born. Two of the pages were names and details of people who'd handled private adoptions...including a few black market adoptions.
Babies sold. Some without parental consent.
And I might have been one of them.
That was what my father had intimated to the PI.
My chest tightened. “I need to know.”
***
An hour later, I was back in my office, standing at the window. I'd been standing there since I'd gotten back and my muscles were burning from being held in one position for so long, but I barely felt the pain. I’d mastered the art of not moving during my year in hell.
“Don't move a muscle until I give you permission. If you do, I'll know, and you'll be sorry.”
It had been one of his favorite punishments for even the most minor infractions. Struggling when he wanted me to lie still. Not struggling when he wanted me to. Gagging when he shoved his cock down my throat. Making too much noise. Not making enough. It hadn't taken me long to realize that he'd just enjoyed punishing me.
I shook my head, hoping to get rid of his voice. Usually, the memories only came at night, but there were times when flashes came to me during the day, triggered by something specific. Today, I was punishing myself for being selfish.
I knew that what I was doing would hurt my mother. Did I really want the answers this badly? For all her faults, Jacqueline St. James-Snow was my mother. She might not have given birth to me, but she'd tried to do right by me. I'd had my doubts about searching for my birth parents, but after learning I might have been taken from my birth mother, I had to do it. Even if it hurt my mother. And I hated myself for it.
The phone rang and I ignored it. Three minutes later, it rang again.
My shoulders were rigid and fire licked up and down my back, but I still wouldn’t move.
There was a knock at the door. When a soft voice said my name, I finally turned my head and that, in and of itself, was agony. People didn't understand the torture that could come from motionlessness unless they'd been subjected to it.
The new office manager stood there, a tentative look on her face. I couldn’t remember her name. “What is it?” I snapped.
“I…ah...there’s a Mr. Pence here to see you.”
“If it’s Mitchell Pence, call the cops,” I said dismissively. I’d fired him. He’d been warned not to come back. I started to turn back to the window.
“It’s his father,” she said, her voice weak.
Slowly, I turned around. The fire licking my back worsened and then eased as I allowed myself to move. As though the movement had also lifted a veil from my emotions, I saw the anxiety in the woman’s eyes.
“His father,” I echoed. I immediately felt bad for snapping at her. None of this was her fault. Moving across the floor, I stood behind my desk.
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded and then reached inside my desk, pulling out a contract. I softened my voice, hoping to repair the damage from my initial rudeness. “Have security find the feed from Mr. Pence’s little…incident. They should know what I’m talking about.”
Hopefully, Jacob Pence would prove to be smarter than his son.
As she went to shut the door, I spoke again, “Clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I’ll be leaving after this.”
I couldn’t stay here. My temper was on a hair trigger. I'd practically bitten her head off when she'd only been doing her job.
I needed an outlet and there was one place I knew I could go.
***
Two hours later, I found myself in worse shape than before.
A new Domme, Maxime, stood on the Olympus stage. She wore an elegant corset of dark blue silk along with a skirt of white velvet. She looked like royalty and by the way she had her Sub kneeling at her feet when she was done, it seemed that the man with her thought the same. They were a unit, not just a couple of people who had hooked up for the day, and judging by the sighs when they left the stage, most of the people in the audience had appreciated the show. If my head had been anywhere close to normal, I might have appreciated the art with which she brought her Sub to the very edge.
; But I was just as edgy as I’d been when I came in. I'd found no relief here.
A women in red body paint came to me, crawling on her hands and knees. She stopped in front of me and rubbed her cheek against my knee. “Can I pleasure you, Master?”
“No.” It wasn't harsh, but it was final.
She made a low, disappointed sound and gazed up at me sadly before crawling away. That’s when I recognized her eyes. She’d done this before, I realized. Maybe not wearing the red body paint, but I knew I’d been with her before. She’d probably even pleased me then, but I didn't remember her.
“I think you broke her heart.”
There was no mistaking that voice. Deep and smooth, a warm bass that could sway juries and convict the hearts of the public, I looked up at District Attorney Jefferson Sinclair. He wasn’t readily recognizable, unless somebody was really looking, and if they did, he’d be screwed. It was one thing for someone like me to be here. It was another thing entirely for Sinclair.
“Feel like living dangerously, Sinclair?” I asked. A prominent political figure like him being found in a place like Olympus was just asking to be a ruined political figure.
His teeth flashed white against his dark skin as he smiled. “I’m here…investigating.”
That had my attention. “Investigating what?” I asked warily. I'd always gotten along with him, but that meant nothing when it came to political ambitions.
“That’s not for you to know.” He shrugged. “But you’re in the clear so you don’t need to worry.” He nodded at the seat across from me. “Mind?”
Actually, I did. I wanted to be alone. But if he was sitting here, chances were nobody else would bother me. I preferred his company to another former conquest. I gestured. “Feel free.”
He settled down, looking easy and comfortable in the elegant gloom of the club. Almost like he’d been there before and I wondered if he had. “Are you looking for somebody in particular?”
“If I am, would you be feeling helpful?”
I debated, then shrugged. I wasn’t feeling particularly kind to a lot of people at the moment. Too many of the New York elite had done nothing but piss me off lately. My mother. My father. Penelope. Then I thought of Aleena and Kowalski, of Fawna and Molly. All people who knew what it meant to work hard, laugh hard and enjoy the things around them. Enjoy the people around them without thinking just how they might use that person. Then I studied Sinclair. I'd always admired him because, for a politician, he was surprisingly straightforward and honest. He played the game because he had to, but he truly believed in what he was doing.