Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (28 page)

I don’t know what I’m feeling. A mixture of relief and anxiety. I’m relieved that I can still feel safe with him, but I’m anxious because my body is starting to ache – and not from my sore ass and thighs.

We make love, but it’s not what you think. It’s not sex. He never touches me below the waist. He barely touches my breasts, letting my nipples peak before brushing his lips against them through
his
T-shirt I’ve borrowed. There are thrusts coming at me, but he’s barely hard, and I never think he’s going to penetrate me. I don’t want that right now anyway.

Is he reading me?

I read men as a Domme. They are easy to read, very open with what they want. When a man is put into a submissive position, he tends to be the most open book he’s ever been. You’d think it was the same for women, but if you’re a woman like
me
then you know that sharing your fee-fees is akin to career and social suicide.

Sometimes I feel like such a man.

No, what Ian and I are doing isn’t sex. It’s… lovemaking.

“You feel pretty human to me,” he whispers into my ear, his chest pressing against mine and the strength in his hips keeping me trapped against his bed. “A human who deserves to feel good and feel worshiped.”

He keeps his eyes on me as he descends my stomach, hands pushing up the shirt until I’m completely bare to him. When his tongue hits my slit, I’m ready.

It’s slow, it’s gentle. He never asks for anything in return, and when I come from his tongue five minutes later, I know I’m in deep, deep trouble.

Deep
fucking
trouble.

Chapter 29

IAN

“I’ve solved our funding discrepancy!”

I let my father pour me a scotch before settling back into my leather chair. He’s invited me out to his favorite club. A real good ol’ boys abode where cigar smoke is thick and all the waiters wear bowties. We’re here in the corner of a lounge, a few other men in their finest suits laughing it up when it comes to wives, daughters, and mistresses. My father is the only one bringing up business, and since he’s
so happy
it must be public knowledge.

“Oh?” The scotch isn’t my favorite, but I let it roll over my tongue and flush down my throat. “And where are you picking up an extra fifteen-million dollars?”

Chuckling, my father swings one leg over the other and raises his eyebrows in that know-how way. He’s done that my whole life. When he knows something that I don’t, or is about to lay on something I would have never thought of. “Let’s say our pal Crow has come through for us as our final investor.”

Now I raise my brows, and it’s not because I’m about to impart some knowledge onto my father. Far from it. If anything, I’m a tad concerned. “Xavier Crow from Black Raven Pharmaceuticals?”

“That’s the one.”

“Surprised you’re getting in bed with that guy.”

“Anyone who is
anyone
is getting into bed with Crow. What? The only other alternative was Jackson Lyle, and nobody will touch his money for at least a year until the whole bruh-ha-ha with the Warrens die down. We can’t risk offending them.”

“No. We can’t.” My father’s courting of Henry Warren played out, and the man threw down five-million for The Grand. He’ll probably want the Honeymoon Suite we have planned out for him and his bride. “Still, a pharmaceutical man?”

“Crow is all about real estate on the side. He owns half of the Pacific Northwest now.”

“So I’ve heard. He’s also pissing people off in Portland because most of his buying leads to some of the fastest gentrification this country has ever seen.”

“Son, that’s Portland. It’s three-thousand miles away. People around here don’t give a rat’s ass about west coast real estate, unless they have a hand in it. Besides, that whole presentation you gave was all about how we’re
not
further gentrifying the old district. I don’t know what you have against this. Crow is known for being right in line with your lifestyle. In fact, he runs the most exclusive club on the west coast.”

I stiffen. My father knows about my “lifestyle” insofar people talk about seeing me at The Dark Hour, and he’s met a few of my past subs when I needed a date for a dinner or party. Plus, my mother knows everything, because she’s a nosy woman who is always up in my love life. When she’s drunk, she’s liable to tell my father everything about me. It’s a problem I ignore.

Until now.

“What Xavier Crow does in his private time doesn’t concern me, especially three-thousand miles away, as you say.” I drink more of the scotch to ease my nerves. “What does concern me is whether or not we want to be attached to a man like that.”

“It doesn’t matter, son, it’s been done. It was the only way we could pay the Andrews.”

In the days since we last negotiated, the Andrews presented a final offer of sixty-five-million. Still way above the worth of The Grand, but they were firm that they would not come down any farther, no matter how much my father presented the facts. They wouldn’t even listen to me, and they
like
me. They must need that money for something.

And on the subject of money, no matter how we crunched the numbers, nobody could come up with millions more. Our top budget was fifty. My father’s been busy wrestling up the extra fifteen, and apparently he found it in a new friend named Xavier Crow.

“Soon enough we will be the proud owners of The Grand. Then the real work begins.” My father tops off his drink with a smile. “That reminds me, Ian, we need to set up a crew for you on the administrative end. Your assistant won’t be enough.”

Ah, yes. My father is foisting all the real work on me. Managing the contractors, handling the money, dealing with the press… all the joys that come from a high profile remodel. I haven’t been sweating it because I know what needs to be done, but he’s right, it’s a lot of work for me to handle with only Valerie to count on. Yet if my father thinks I’m going to have a “team” of talking heads, he’s got another think coming.

“There’s only one person I want to work with,” I say. “I want Kathryn.”

He eyes me with what can only be described as curiosity. Maybe a little bemusement. “Alison? Well, sure, but… doesn’t she have her own shit to worry about right now?”

“I don’t doubt she’s looking for a new project to tie her over until they let her work on the museum. A school. A library. Some homeless shelter.” I match my father’s chuckle, just to let him know we’re on
the same page.
“That woman loves to give, if you know what I mean.”

Our eyes meet in the darkness of the room. Yes, Father, read into that all you want. This is the closest I’ve come to giving away what’s happening between Kathryn and I. For good reason. This is to my advantage.

My father speaks two languages. Money and women. Money we both understand. Women are another matter. This is the man who married a hot young thing when he knocked her up, divorced her after their twentieth anniversary, and then occasionally hooked up with her once in a while because hey, they’re still in love! Never let it be said the Mathers were level-headed individuals. My parents make me look like a saint with his shit together.

“So… you and Kathryn Alison.” My father goes from twisting his mouth in surprise to settling in his chair, laughing. “That woman’s a real hot-head, I hear. You gonna keep her in line?”

I want to scoff at his choice of words – my mother has her feminist teeth deep in my neck – but I have to play his game. Especially if I’m to get what I want. “You could say that. I only need her. Well, her and the assistant she’ll in turn bring. Of course she’ll demand a higher price tag than five lackeys put together, but she’s smart and knows what she’s doing. She’s worth those five lackeys and then some.”

“Uh huh. Does her father know about this? You know he and I go back…”

“I haven’t talked to the man since the presentation.” The one where I fucked his daughter in an empty room. “Anything you’re
inferring
needs to be kept quiet. Including from Mom.”

“I don’t tell that woman nothing, son. She doesn’t give me a chance with all her babbling.” He sounds like he’s whining, but he can’t hide the smile on his face. Yup. Still smitten. Divorced, but smitten. In a twisted way, it’s adorable. “All right. If it’s Kathryn you want, you can have her. And her assistant, but I’m assuming that’s on
her
payroll.”

“Simple case of trickledown economics.”

“Indeed.”

We clink our glasses together. Father thinks he’s being coy with that look as he says, “The Alisons are a good match in more ways than one. You know, Spencer and I used to joke about you two getting married when the girl was born.”

I try not to grimace. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s really happening.”

“You’re a young man, she’s a young beautiful woman…”

“We don’t have much in common outside of that.”

“And yet here you are, asking my permission to hire her. She may be smart at this sort of thing, but it’s no coincidence that you would get to spend a lot of time with her.”

Before I can respond, my father opens his mouth again.

“Use that time well, son.”

I keep a stern eye on him as I finish my drink. I don’t know what he’s implying, but everything he’s said today has sounded dodgy as hell. It’s going to be a long project.

Assuming Kathryn says yes to working with me. I haven’t even asked yet.

Chapter 30

KATHRYN

There’s a lot buzzing through my head right now, most of which concerns the fact I’m riding in an elevator up to Ian’s condo.

I haven’t been here in a few days. Not since that night, which ended with bagels and cream cheese over coffee. And oral sex for me.

After that, I took another shower, put my trench coat back on, and took a cab home without another kiss or hug from Ian. I didn’t want them.

Then last night I heard from him for the first time.
“Meet me somewhere to talk business.”
I’ve been feeling pretty antisocial as I sort my shit out, so I told him I didn’t want to do dinner or drinks even in a private lounge. That’s how I ended up in this elevator, making my mad ascent to that place we last made love.

Made love. Not words I thought I would ever say in relation to Ian Mathers.

I’m dressed for business, not pleasure. I’m on my period anyway, so fuck sex. And I don’t mean
well I guess I’ll give you a blowjob
period. I mean
don’t fucking touch me and let me rot with my ibuprofen
period.

I pop another one before the elevator opens. My stomach lining is doomed anyway.

I text Ian saying I’m here, and he says the door has been left unlocked while he finishes something up in his library. When I enter, locking the door behind me, I find the place as I left it. Ian definitely lives in a bachelor pad, but it’s homey. I don’t doubt he gets the place professionally cleaned once or twice a week, but he isn’t a slob either. There’s one dish in the sink and a few spots on the carpet around the TV. The most clutter comes from books on the coffee table and cat toys strewn across the living room.

A cat. The man has a freakin’ cat. With an almost impossible to pronounce Irish name, because deep inside, he’s a pretentions fuck.

When he comes out of the library, dressed in business casual and offering me a drink, I clench my thighs shut. It ain’t happening tonight.

Business talk over bourbon. Sitting across from each other in the living room. No sweet talk. No covert touches. It really is business.

Important business.

Ian wants me to join him on his remodel project. Apparently he cleared it with our fathers so I could be properly paid for my services. All I need to do is bring Anita to help me and, you know, pay her as I always do.

This whole time I’ve barely drunk any of the bourbon, but now I guzzle it. Should’ve done that earlier, because it’s doing wonders to numb my cramps.

“Didn’t have any other plans, did you?” he asks, half-empty glass in his hand as he dangles his arm over the back of his couch. “I assumed that your schedule was empty right now.”

“You assumed right.” My plans were the museum. Now that it’s put on hold, I have to figure something else to do with my time. Take some classes. Find a new cause I can champion. Go on vacation in Europe, where the subs are plenty and uncircumcised.

Ugh. Domination.

I don’t know if it’s my period or my mental health right now, but I have been so turned off ever since I left this place on Sunday morning. My mind is in constant turmoil over it. Do I need to purge my system and dominate a guy? Or do I need something else?

Until I came here tonight, I thought it was the former more than the latter. Now that I’m here…

I can’t stop staring at him. How handsome he is in slick trousers and that light pink shirt with the top three buttons undone. Stubble on his chin, his cheek, but contained. I can smell his nice cologne over here, and it makes me feel… comforted.