Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (9 page)

We’re silent again. This happens every time we start to talk. It’s gotten worse these past few days, too. Used to be that he would give me a backhand compliment, I would throw one back at him, and we went on our merry ways. Now that we’re forced together, however, we’re discovering that it’s difficult to talk about anything but the work at hand.

There are only two things we have in common. The first is that we’re both Doms, but that’s inappropriate to talk about.

And then there’s that huge elephant in the room that’s been destroying the furniture and shitting large chunks all over the desk for about a week now.

He catches a look from me. Does he know what I’m thinking about? “Kathryn…”

“Yeah?”

Ian flicks a pencil against the table, occasionally tapping the edge of his laptop. “Are we ever gonna talk about it?”

I feign ignorance, although my cheeks redden and my throat goes dry. “About what?” Shit. My smile is too fake.

His eyes narrow at me. “You know what.”

My smile fades. “Ian…”

“I know. It’s embarrassing.”

I sit back in my seat and try not to flinch. “Why would you bring that up?”

He doesn’t respond. No look. No shrug. Nothing but that pencil tapping. Faster now.
Ritta-ritta-ritta.
Smacking me right on my nerves.

Teeth chomp my lip before I’m able to speak again. “Hey, that was a long time ago. We were kids.”

One eyebrow goes up. I hate it when he does that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ian.”

Sighing, he sits up in his seat, hand rubbing his jaw and sending out a new wave of aftershave in my direction. Fuck me, it’s so musky. Bit spicy. Every time I’ve smelled it this week, I’ve gotten tingles in my breasts. Asshole.

“You’re right. We were kids. End of story.”

Yeah, kids who instantly started boning after five minutes. Kids get horny, but sheesh. That’s fast even for me. Probably for him too.

That pencil is flicking against the table again.
Ritta. Tatta. Ritta-tatta.
Before I know it, I snatch my hand across the thin table and stifle his hand with mine.

It’s warm.

The tapping stops, but now we’re looking at each other, my heart stilling in my chest and his breath snapping through his nostrils. Was that… I felt something. Just now. Like a crack of static electricity piercing the both of us.

Is that what they call a spark?

Fuck I’m drunk.

Except I’m not. I had three small cups of wine. I’m relaxed, but I’m barely tipsy. I have complete cognitive control. I have no right to blame anything on alcohol. I could drive home if I had to. Or I could keep my hand on Ian’s, fingers pressing into his wide knuckles.

I had no idea his hands were so strong and sturdy. They don’t really look it. They look normal, whatever that means.

He’s a man, I have to remind myself. They’re built a certain way. A
strong
way.

Ian glances at my hand. “Sorry,” he says, but doesn’t move his fist. Instead, he simply drops the pencil and lets it roll onto the floor. His eyes don’t leave mine. “Kathryn.”

I don’t know why he’s said my name, but I’m glad he has. It makes me think of what I heard that night at the club…

Oh my God. My heart is racing. It’s slamming against my chest, and I can feel the color draining from my face. Meanwhile, he looks like a perfect prince, neither judging nor begging me for anything. And then his fingers poke up through mine, and the next thing I know our hands are clutched together on top of the table. He closes the lid of his laptop, and then mine.

We’re done working. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I’m out of words, and all I want to do is feel him touch my hand.

I so don’t feel in control right now. It’s… exhilarating. I have no idea what to expect. I always know what to expect, because I drive the car. I know all the stops. I know the ultimate destination. I know what music we’re going to play. Even when backseat driving,
I know.

“Kathryn,” he says again, softly. It’s a far cry from the way he groaned it in The Dark Hour, but it has as large of an impact on me. My stomach churns. My groin is making a lot of suggestions right now. “Katie…”

I hold in a gasp. Nobody calls me Katie. My dad calls me Kat sometimes, but Katie remains in the past, when I was…

For that short stint as a teen when I thought it sounded cute.
“Please, call me Katie,”
I told him when we first met at that gala. The same one we made out at. The same one where I felt his cock and he put his mouth on my tits.

The same one where I learned what his seed feels like on my skin.

It’s hard to believe I was so embarrassed and angry back then. What can I say? I was a selfish kid. That sex was all about my pleasure. I just wanted his cock. I wanted him to tear me apart, yeah, but I didn’t stick around after he prematurely came. I should have. I should have reassured him that it was okay, that we could try again in a few minutes. Clean myself up. Do something… anything other than run out on a hormonal and probably insecure teenage boy…

I mean, it doesn’t seem like he was traumatized by the event, but if I’ve thought about it every time we bumped into each other over the years… I’m sure he has too.

“Call me Katie…”

He remembered that?

“Nobody’s called me that since high school.”

“Did I offend you?”

Our hands are still interlocked on the table. Where is this going? “No. Don’t call me that in front of other people, though.”

“I wouldn’t.” His voice is so soft and gentle. Yet firm. Definitely firm. The man is still a Dom, after all. He makes you feel safe and secure. Like whatever happens is meant to happen, and you can put your trust in him. He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you feel good. He’ll do things I normally don’t want a man to do to me.

His next words surprise me.

“We should put all that behind us.”

“What do you mean?” I’m only half ignorant.

“We’ve been rough on each other when we meet. It’s because of what happened that day, right? We’re both defensive about it. It’s in our natures to react that way, especially as kids.”

“Ian… don’t worry about it. I don’t hold it against you.”

“Oh, I know you don’t really care that I did something every teen guy does at least once. Just like I don’t really care that your reaction was to freak out and stomp out on me.”

I decide to not hear the mild derision in his tone. “Sounds like we’re both hung up on it.”

“So let’s put it behind us. From now on. We’re adults, right?”

“Yeah.”

His hand squeezes mine. “Adults, you know… they are more experienced regarding certain things.”

I swallow, and it feels like the lump is going to explode in my stomach. “Yeah.”

Ian Mathers is leaning across the table. I am leaning across the table. I have no control over any of this…
no control at all…
what my body does, what he does… fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening?

He’s so close that his breath tickles my chin. “That means you and I are a lot more experienced at certain things than we were, what was it, twelve years ago?”

“Okay.”

“We’re also better at forgiving. So, do you forgive me, Katie?”

I’m not sure what’s happening. The room is spinning. Something that feels like fatigue infuses into me. I’m awake, but… what’s controlling me? “Forgive you for what?”

“For that day. I forgive you.”

Another swallow. My lips are so dry. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

His hand is squeezing mine so hard that I don’t doubt he’s bruising the both of us. It hurts. Oh, God, does it hurt. Everything. Everything hurts. My hand, my arm, my fucking heart.

“If you believe me, kiss me.”

“And what will that solve?”

There’s that shrug. That smug, I-don’t-really-care shrug. Except I know he totally cares right now. “Let’s find out.”

It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss those lips. To know how much experience he now has. To express everything I’ve learned in the same amount of time.

Like how I’ve become a Domme.

Dommes don’t do this.

They’re not seduced by men like Ian. They don’t have the control stripped from them, at any time…

Except.
Except.
Isn’t he giving me some control right now? He’s left the ball in my court. All I have to do is pick it up and toss it back to him.

I’m in control. Anything that happens from here is because I wanted it to happen.

No regrets.

No fears.

I’m a Domme, which means I know what kind of man Ian is. No matter what happens, he’ll take care of me. And I’ll take care of him. Mostly that one, because I have been given control.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Next thing I know? Boom. My whole life has changed.

And my name is muttered on my lips, Ian Mathers’s tongue slipping against mine. The pain in my hand is absolutely exquisite, and I slip far, far into the comfort of something so long ago and familiar.

He’s as good a kisser as the girls at school said he was.

Chapter 11

KATHRYN

I’m on fire. From head to toe, all I can think about is doing exactly what I am.

Namely, kissing Ian.

His lips are tender against mine, although I feel the force of his every movement within his kiss. When he moves from my mouth to my chin, I think it’s over.

I am wrong. So blissfully wrong.

Ian kisses the underside of my chin, his lips and tongue caressing my skin as he descends to my throat. Sitting there like an idiot, all I can think about is how good his hot breath feels against every part of me. Just because he isn’t kissing
every
part, doesn’t mean I don’t understand what it would feel like…

His hand uncurls from mine as he pulls away. I’m left sitting there, dazed, hungry for more. This man has opened a Pandora’s box I’m not sure he can close. Not until he stands from his chair, his fingers signaling for me to stay where I am. He’s coming to me, you see. Rounding the table, slowly and surely, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek and press his thumb against the corner of my mouth.

“Kathryn…” No matter how many times he says it, I still can’t get over it. Especially now that his touch encircles my throat. His grip is gentle, but firm, and I know that right now he wants to take me like he takes his subs.

Before I can protest, his hand slips down the front of my shirt. I let it.

I want him to touch me.

My eyes remain on his face as his fingertips reach beneath my bra within my shirt and stroke my nipple. The fire is born from electricity. It’s a shock, all right. A shock penetrating me faster than his body can. The tiny pinches I receive on my flesh command that I moan, encouraging him to keep going.

“Kathryn.” Ian knees beside me, his eager mouth pulling away the buttons of my jacket and blouse. Just as I reach around and curl his hair in my hand, his tongue lashes against my nipple, one of his hands stroking my thigh.

“Ian.” I can play this game too. All day.

We’re going a lot slower than we did ten years ago. No rush. No need to prove ourselves. His tenderness with my body so far has me reeling in admiration. Ian is not a stranger to the nipple between his teeth. He sucked on it back then, too, his powerful lips and tongue almost making me come from that alone.

Oh, God, coming. I’m full with the urge now, and it’s worse than at any other point this week, even though I was generous with myself in the shower last night. All I want is for Ian Mathers to strip me bare and…

Do I have to say it? I want this man to fuck me. We’re over halfway to sex now. I want more. I want what I was denied a decade ago.

He’s in the chair beside me, facing me, his tongue snaking into my ear and making me whimper from the exquisite stimulation. Ian’s hand continues to massage my thigh. Soon enough, he brushes against my mound, and I moan against his mouth.

The man is fumbling with my zipper. My hand is searching for his too… but not before I wrap half my hand around his growing hardness.

Groaning, Ian puts his hand on my breast, his voice reaching new depths unlike he was able to achieve as a very young man. My grip hesitates. That moan of approval was so… unlike anything I have heard from a man in a long time.

There are no mind games right now. We clearly both want this. Why compromise that with our bedroom nonsense? We’re not even in a bedroom. The excuse to do whatever we desire is there, and it’s perfect.

I tentatively hold his erection again. Stiff.
Thick.
I can barely see anything in his lap, let alone with black pants on, but I’m impressed. It’s not big enough to make me scream and call it a monster, but I’m getting wet just thinking about him again.