The friction was so intense I bit my lip to keep from moaning. “Will you allow me to scream, Sir?” I asked him.
“Oh, yes. The things I’m going to do to you tonight will make you want to scream…and I will definitely want to hear it.”
He gave me one more kiss, softer this time, sweeter. Then he lowered my wrists and rubbed his thumbs over where he'd held me. No marks. I hadn’t expected there to be.
I jumped at an unfamiliar noise. Dominic and I both turned and saw the door swinging open. Some of them still squeaked a bit. They were one of the things set to be fixed when the renovations started. For a moment, I’d forgotten where we were, what was going on.
One of the caterer’s staff stood there. That was what I registered in that first quick glance. She wore a simple white shirt, trim black pants and a short apron. The blue armband on her right arm was echoed in the blue stones that dangled from her ears.
I started to look away and then I stopped, looking back.
A startled gasp escaped me.
“Emma.”
Fortunately, I was saved from the awkwardness of having to talk to Emma at that moment. The caterer came in behind my ex-roommate and her eyes widened when she saw Dominic and me. The older woman came toward us, hands outstretched. I moved in front, subtly, and caught her hands, squeezing them.
I’d gotten used to deflecting people like this. While Dominic had been okay with the touching required for business interactions, casual touching wasn't something he was very comfortable with.
The caterer didn't even bat an eye. She stood there beaming at us and gushing about what an honor it was to be a part of Dominic’s vision, then offered to walk us through the house as she explained the setup.
Duty called.
While I tried to keep busy, I wasn’t able to avoid Emma all night.
Before I'd met Dominic, Emma and I had been roommates. I'd also gotten fired and then had been struggling to find a new job. The two of us had never really gotten along all that well to begin with and none of that helped.
That was probably putting it mildly.
I had a feeling she hated my guts.
Now, caught in the middle of this big party as she changed out a tray of canapés, we stood there in that weird sort of frozen politeness people get when they want to leave, but can’t.
Well, I could leave, but it would've been rude to turn around without speaking. My Midwestern upbringing kicked in. Courtesy despite circumstances. Of course, that had nothing to do with why Emma was still there. She was working.
“How have you been?” I asked her.
Her mouth stretched into an obviously fake smile and she laughed. “Oh, I’m doing great. I can see you are as well.” Her gaze dropped to my neck and I knew she was mentally calculating how much it cost.
When I heard a familiar laugh in a brief lull in the conversation, I glanced over and saw Dominic standing with Jefferson and Cecily. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“You two are together,” Emma said, her voice void of emotion.
“Yes.”
She nodded, jaw tight. “Well, I suppose 'personal assistant' can cover a lot of things, I guess.”
My cheeks went hot.
“Personal assistant.” A fairly unladylike snort followed the words.
Whipping my head around, I stared at Penelope and wondered where the hell she had come from. Penelope Rittenour was a thorn in my side and a pain in my ass. And there was no way in hell I'd invited her.
“Is that what they call you, Aleena?” Penelope said with a low laugh.
Now it wasn’t just my face that was hot now. All of me was hot, temper pulsing inside me.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days, Aleena? Personal assistant? I thought you were his little pet. His toy. Or are you his…slave?” She pursed her lips and slid her eyes down me, eying me from head to toe, as if taking account. “I’m sorry if I’m getting it wrong. I just…well, I don’t understand this weird deviance going on between you two. Just what is your title?”
Pet. Toy. Slave. Anger burned inside of me and I stared at her, my hand closing into a fist.
A laugh escaped her.
That did it. I took a step closer. In a voice that was far more level than I thought I could manage, I said, “I think the title is girlfriend, Penelope. I realize that was the position you wanted, but frankly you’re not woman enough to handle Dominic.”
Now she was the one with fiery color in her cheeks. Her hand tightened on the glass of champagne she held and I could see her considering it.
“Sweetheart, you throw that at me and it’s going to get ugly,” I told her softly. “I'm in charge here.”
She arched a pale brow, falling back on the ice bitch routine that was her life. “As if you’re worth it. And as if I would want somebody is sick and twisted as he is. Please.”
“Sick? Twisted? What is sick and twisted about knowing what I like and enjoying it?” Now it was my turn to laugh and I did it freely. I suddenly realized I could feel some pity for her. Oh, I didn’t like her, but I could pity her. She had to be one of the most unhappy people I had ever known in my life. “You know what, Penelope? You should figure out what you like and need, and just embrace it. Stop living your life based on what others think and what you think makes you look good. You just might find yourself a whole lot happier.”
A warm hand settled on the back of my neck and I felt some of the tension leave my body.
“Penelope doesn’t want to be happy,” Dominic said, his voice quiet. “That’s why she does this. She doesn’t see why anybody should be happy.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed at us as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder. I looked up at him and he brushed his lips over mine.
All of his attention was on me, as if she—and everyone else—ceased existing. “I’ve decided.”
I couldn’t stop the hitching little sigh that escaped my lips.
Penelope spun on one ugly-pick heel and sailed off. I didn't see her the rest of the night. Emma hurriedly finished up too, but at points throughout the remainder of the event, I saw her shooting looks my way. They weren’t exactly friendly.
I didn’t exactly care.
Chapter 11
Aleena
The tip of the whip came down on my feet. I curled my toes as a soft whimper escaped my lips. It moved up, along my calves and thighs, the curve of my hip. Each lash left a hot, stinging trail of pleasure-pain that had me moaning. The whip came down between my thighs and white-hot pleasure tore through me with jagged, hooked claws.
The bench beneath me shifted, but I didn’t move.
I couldn't move.
Chains clicked and the tension at my neck eased a bit. The collar around my neck was attached to the bench and those few scant inches he’d given me didn’t allow for much movement, but it was enough for what he wanted.
Dominic fisted a hand in my hair, holding me so that he could meet my eyes. His were blazing.
“What do you want, Aleena?” he asked.
“You.” My face was hot, my breathing ragged. He'd been alternating the pain of the whip with the gentle caress of his hand for nearly twenty minutes and my body was shaking with need. “Please, Dominic…you.”
“Not yet.” He released my hair and my head fell down even as I saw his wrist flick out.
I have didn’t have time to brace myself. The whip came down and it licked me between the thighs, the tip slapping against my clit.
I came.
And I was still coming when he pressed the head of his cock against my entrance. The other hand went to the chain looped around my waist and I was suddenly and painfully reminded of the clips on my nipples.
“Ah!” My back arched as he tugged on the chain. My nipples had nearly gone numb while he'd been using the whip, but they flared back to life now. I tried to twist away, and that just made the clamps pull harder.
“Steady.” He put a hand on the small of my back as he
slowly eased inside me. With all he'd done, he hadn't put anything in me, leaving me wet, but oh so tight.
My body throbbed, pain and pleasure racing along my nerves, only to collide and combine and turn me into a mewling, pleading mess. And still, he took me, one inch at a time. It was a taunting, teasing possession and I was shuddering and crying by the time he filled me, his hips pressed to my ass.
Then he started to ride me.
It was slow, lazy and when I began edging closer to orgasm, he backed off.
Again and again until I was begging him and pleading for release.
Then he stopped.
Fisting my hands until my nails bit into my palms, I twisted my head, trying to see what he was doing. He was still inside me, but he wasn't moving. I needed him to move.
His fingers pressed against the tight entrance of my ass. They were slickly wet and cool and I caught my breath as he pushed them inside. “Guess what’s next, Aleena,” Dominic said.
I couldn’t speak as he rubbed his cock through the thin wall of skin separating his finger from his dick. Then he added a second finger and I cried out. I was so full. Too full.
Heat flooded me, twisted me. I was shaking and the presence of the bench along the midline of my torso was the only thing keep me from melting into a puddle on the floor.
Then came finger number three and I nearly screamed at the jolt that went through me. Keeping his cock still lodged firmly inside me, he began to thrust his fingers in and out of my ass. He twisted and curled them, his knuckles rubbing against my walls until the burn turned from pain to pleasure.
“One day,” he said, his voice rough. “We're going to have to talk about how much I can get in here.”
My eyes closed. Fuck.
“Open!” His free hand came down on my ass and I opened my eyes. “I want you to watch.”
For the first time since we'd begun, I looked at myself in the large mirror he'd set up across from us. But it wasn't just one. He'd set up several in such a way that I could see more than one angle. I could see my breasts hanging over the edge of the bench, nipples swollen and red from the metal clamps attached to them. I could see the stripes across my skin from the whip. The mess he'd made of my hair. I could even see where his cock disappeared into my body and where his fingers were shoved into my ass.
And I could see how my eyes were nearly all black pupil, my lips swollen, and the blissed-out expression on my face.
Then he began to move and I forgot about everything but him. My eyes were on the mirror, but I was looking at him now. His broad, muscular chest, dotted with scars from the year he'd spent being raped and tortured. His skin glistening with sweat. And the look of pure need on his face.
He needed me. Not because of sex. Not because he wanted to Dominate me. He needed me. I was the only one who could do this for him.
The thought hit me hard as he drove into me, his cock reaching as deep as it could go. His fingers twisted inside me, stretching me even as his free hand grabbed the chain again. He rode me harder than before, every stroke filled with so much sensation that I could feel the world starting to take on that surreal quality, that place where nothing seemed quite real.
I whimpered, said his name.
“Would you like to come?”
I couldn't get the word out, but his eyes met mine in the mirror and I knew he could read what I needed.
He began to ream me, driving in deeper and harder as the pleasure and pain blurred and everything that wasn’t Dominic or the bench beneath me or the pleasure dissolved away.
I exploded, dissolving away too, lost in agonized ecstasy. I felt him come, his seed hot and wet inside me, and I felt the bite of his teeth on my shoulder, the press of his mouth against my neck.
I heard him whisper my name and I smiled as I let myself go.
***
The following morning, I was laying on my side when Dominic came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel.
I made an approving sound under my breath and when he cocked his eyebrow at me, I said, “That’s my favorite outfit of yours.”
His grin flashed across his face, a shared memory lingering between us. He’d been wearing a towel the day I’d shown up here to interview for my job. If someone had told me then where that interview was going to take me, I wouldn't have believed it.
“What are you doing today?” he asked, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed.
He cupped my cheek and I turned my face into his hand. Damn, he smelled good. “Doctor’s appointment this morning. Then, since you gave me the day off, Molly is coming over. We’re hanging out. Chinese food, cheap beer, bad movies.”
“Why are you going to the doctor?” he asked, frowning as he bent over me, concern on his face.
“My ear.” Grimacing, I rubbed at my left one. “I've always had issues with ear infections and I think I’m getting another one. It started hurting yesterday, but I’d hoped it would go away. It’s not.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“Gee, thanks.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he smiled. “I don’t always get a fever with them. That left one has always been little weird. Relax. I’ll be fine. Antibiotics for a week and in a day or two, no pain.”
He nodded slowly and then nuzzled my jaw. “Take care of yourself. Remember who you belong to.”
The words sent heat rushing through me and I rolled onto my back to watch him as he moved around the room. I knew he had to go to work today and I was looking forward to seeing Molly again, but a part of me wished he could just climb back in bed with me.
“So, after that, movies, Chinese…cheap beer with Molly.” He gave me a puzzled look. “Why does it have to be cheap beer?”
I shrugged. “Sentiment?”
He just shook his head, and then bent down, pressed a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You have fun. I'll see you when I get home.”
***
Okay, so the beer wasn’t that cheap. We’d found a decent draft beer that I liked and I’d already picked up a six pack of the dark, bottled brew the other night. It was chilling in the fridge when Molly came sailing past me, bright red curls all askew, arms laden with boxes of kung pao chicken, sweet and sour pork, soup and egg-rolls.
My belly grumbled, demanding, as we unpacked and I snagged the kung pao chicken for myself. I took it with my first dose of the antibiotics the doctor had given me. They always hurt my stomach if I didn’t eat.
“What’s that?” Molly asked.
“Medicine for my ear infection.”
Her face softened with sympathy. Having been my best friend since I'd arrived in New York, she'd seen me through a couple of them. “Another one?”
“Yep. It’s not too bad, though.” I dropped the bottle into my purse and moved into the living room, Molly trailing behind with her own meal.
A few minutes later, we were settled down for a long afternoon of vegging out.
Molly caught me up with her latest exploits, which, in typical Molly fashion, sounded like a soap opera. Apparently the guy she’d been seeing had only been going out with her to make his girlfriend jealous. Since they hadn't been exclusive, Molly had also been dating a girl, but that had ended just as badly when Molly had realized that the people she'd been dating had already been dating each other. Needless to say, she'd backed off in a hurry.
“Life’s too fucking short for that kind of drama,” she told me, jabbing a set of chopsticks my way.
“No argument here.” I scooped out the last bite of chicken and then put the container down, sighing in relief. I'd been hungrier than I'd thought. “How's school?”
She shrugged. “Not bad. I actually sold a few pictures—”
My squeal interrupted her noncommittal delivery and she slid me a grin, clearly pleased with herself.
“So are you finally going to quit doing slave labor?” I asked. We'd met while waitressing and she'd stayed after I'd gotten fired. The job itself hadn't been too bad,
but the manager had been a dick.
“No.” She rolled her expressive dark eyes. “At least not as a way to make the rent. I’ll keep it up and if something sells, awesome, but getting into that field takes time and/or the right connections. So I’ll worry about making connections here and there while I finish school.”
“Are things better at the restaurant now that the asshole is gone?”
Before she had a chance to answer, there was a chime, signaling that the doorman wanted something.
With a sigh, I got to my feet and headed over to the speaker by the door.
“Miss Aleena,” Stuart said, his voice neutral. “There’s a young woman here to see Mr. Snow.”
I scowled. “Call the police.”
Molly’s eyes widened and I mouthed, Later. I couldn’t believe that Maya had the nerve to come back.
“Miss Aleena, it isn’t…”
The brief hesitation had me sighing. Damn Dominic's way-too-popular cock. “It’s not Maya, is it?”
“No, Miss.”
“Her name?”
The answer had my hands curling into fists, but I was calm enough as I responded, “You can send her up. Or better yet, have somebody escort her up. She won’t be here long.”
Koren Norseman was just as pretty in streetwear as she’d been in her non-existent slip of silver.
She was also just as bitchy.
When I opened the door, she immediately tried to push inside and I body-blocked, refusing to move out of the way. Stuart must have had someone else watching the door, because he’d escorted her up personally.
“You’re living here with him.” She glared at me, eyes hard as glass.
“I am.” I didn't bother to explain that I'd lived here before we'd gotten together. All she needed to know was that I was here now. “What can I do for you, Koren?”
Her lip curled as if she was looking at something distasteful, but I didn’t react.