The Domville 7 (The Domville #7)

The
Domville 7

C.J. Fallowfield

Kindle Edition

ASIN: B019ZUNBM4

Version: 1

Copyright © 2015 C. J. Fallowfield

All Rights Reserved Worldwide

Any unauthorised reprint or use of this
material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express
written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, organisations and places or events, are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

I am a British author and write in British
English

Image Copyright © 2015

Editing by Karen J

Proofreading by Jasmine Z

Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at
Book Cover by Design

Book content pictures purchased from Dollar
Photo Club, Shutterstock and iStock

Written as
standalone quick erotic reads,
The Domville
novellas are told in
alternating points of view of the hotel guests.

This
novella includes a ménage with an M/M scene.

My
website
holds the most comprehensive
information about me, as well as my current and up and coming releases, and has
the link to sign up to my monthly newsletter.

The
Domville 7
is dedicated to Nadja of Obsessed by Books blog. I was lucky
enough to be paired up with a trio of wonderful ladies from this blog, Nadja
being one of them, to read and review some of my first novels. They all adore
my work and champion me to no end, for which I’m so grateful. Nadja is also one
of my trusted beta readers, giving me invaluable feedback on my first drafts
and helping me to shape them into even better books.

 Nadja
writes such expressive and in-depth reviews that I’m amazed she’s not an author
herself. What I really love is that she picks out a quote to use at the
beginning of each review, and nine times out of ten, she picks my favourite
quote from the book as well! I was lucky enough to meet her at a signing last year,
although I didn’t get nearly enough time to talk to her. I’m hoping we get a
chance to meet at another one again soon, and spend time talking all things
books, and of course hot men! You’re a lovely, generous lady Nadja, I’m so glad
we got paired up and I hope to keep your friendship and support for many more
years!

CJ x

Chapters

Foreword

Dedication

The History of The Domville

Nadja Bosko

Devon Somers

The Surprise

Maid Service

Service With A Smile

Above & Beyond

The Manchester Domville

The London Domville

Next Release

Newsletter

Free Samples

About C.J. Fallowfield

Other Titles by C.J. Fallowfield

Mr. Domville

The Domville chain of six star hotels is my pride
and joy. It took me years of hard grafting to build up to the opening of the
flagship hotel in New York, but it set the benchmark for all other hotels. I
now have one in every major city in the world. All hotels aspire to offer the
level of comfort, service and extra finishing touches that have become standard
in my chain.

Luxury is a word that has become synonymous with
The Domville and I intend for it to stay that way. Especially in my Signature
suites, the crème de la crème of hotel penthouses, affordable only to the rich
and famous. They are protected by bulletproof glass and the interiors are
adorned with suede and calf leather walls, eighteen carat gold trim, and
priceless works of art and artefacts. We also only use luxurious 1200 thread
count Egyptian cotton sheets, embroidered with 22-carat gold, at $2,400 a
sheet. What really sets us apart though, are state of the art heat signature
cameras, to enable staff to observe and come and go undetected, to clean up and
replenish supplies.

My staff are only appointed after a long and vigorous
assessment, our customer service has to be second to none and when it comes to
our Signature suite guests, nothing is too much trouble. Nothing is impossible.

As for my guests, well they come from all walks of
life, but the one overriding common denominator is money. My guests are people
of means. They pay top dollar because they expect the best and that’s what we
offer, no exceptions. While my clientele may be financially secure, it goes
without saying that their private lives can be somewhat risqué. If only I had
normal cameras to capture what really happened in my hotel suites, then I truly
would be the richest man in the world.

There’s a well-known saying that most definitely
applies to the guests of The Domville, no matter which country they may be
staying in.

No one
knows what goes on behind closed doors.

Wednesday

‘Do you think he’s going to propose?’ My best friend
Tanya was beside herself with excitement, which made me smile. I’d been single
for so many years before I met Devon that she had despaired of me ever settling
down with someone. I’d had plenty of encounters, a few friends with benefits,
but nothing serious. Until Devon. Going away to Paris this weekend with him,
for our second anniversary of meeting, had Tanya in a completely giddy spin.

‘I doubt it, Tan. It’s only been two years, don’t get
carried away,’ I warned, though I was far too late issuing that statement.

‘Please, some people get married after a couple of
months,’ she scoffed. ‘Two years, Nadja, two years,’ she repeated for added
emphasis. I could imagine her rolling her eyes to the sky as she threw her hands
in the air. ‘For you, this is the equivalent of a twenty-year marriage already.
I’ve never seen you so serious about anyone. So, come on, if he did propose,
what would you say? You’d say yes, right? Tell me you’d say yes?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied honestly. ‘I mean, we aren’t
even living together yet, shouldn’t we try living together before we think
about getting married?’

The truth was that Devon was an amazing guy. If it
weren’t for his quintessential British accent, you would imagine he’d been
swept off his surfboard in Bondi beach and dumped in Manchester. Blond, blue
eyed, a chiselled jaw, and a body to die for, he was perfection wrapped in a
bow, with my name on the label. He was so relaxed and laid back, nothing seemed
to phase him, we never argued, and the sex … I swallowed hard and licked my
lips at the thought of it. While to all intents and purposes Devon was the affable,
charming, polite man mothers dreamed of their daughters bringing home, in the
bedroom he was sexually aggressive, experimental, and downright filthy. And I
loved it. I’d never had sex so good. I’d even cancelled my membership to the
gym. Who needed it when you had Devon working you out on a regular basis? My
arms and legs had developed muscles I didn’t even know I had. Our chemistry was
unmistakable, but … and there lay the crux of the matter. There was a "but",
and I had absolutely no idea why. I couldn’t put my finger on why I wasn’t sure
we’d go the distance. I loved him, I was in love with him, and I was pretty sure
he was genuinely in love with me too, he said it often enough.

That “but” still remained though.

‘You’d be mad not to,’ Tanya stated firmly, rousing me
from my thoughts. ‘If you don’t accept, throw him my way. I wouldn’t say no.’

‘You’re married,’ I laughed. ‘Happily.’

‘Married, no one said happily,’ she sighed. ‘Though there
are different levels of happiness, aren’t there? We’ve been together so long
we’re comfortable with each other, but the kinkiest we get sexually is
missionary on the lounge floor with the lights off.’

‘It’s not just down to Dave to spice up your love life. If
you’re not happy, do something about it,’ I urged, happy for the topic of
conversation to be taken away from Devon’s potential proposal and on to one I
was more than comfortable with.

‘Like what?’

‘Ok, how’s your flexi-time looking?’

‘What’s flexi-time got to do with my boring sex life?’

‘Let’s take the afternoon off. We could go for a mainly
liquid lunch, get you loosened up a little, then go shopping for some sexy
lingerie and a few toys. I’m going to make sure you have anything but a boring
Saturday night screw this weekend.’

‘Are you serious?’ she squealed loudly, her voice full of
excitement.

‘Sssshhhh,’ I giggled, looking over my shoulder to see
her a few desks behind me, her hand covering her mouth as she looked left and
right to see if she was under scrutiny by our boss. ‘You know we’re not
supposed to chat to each other when we’re not on break, don’t get us into
trouble.’

‘It’s not just a new sex life I need, it’s a new job.
Honestly, is it even legal to make you log how many minutes you spend in the
toilet?’

‘It should be when someone employs
you
, Tan. You
know you’re known as
Toilet Tanya
, don’t you?’

‘I am? I’ve never been so insulted in my life,’ she
retorted with a haughty tone to her voice.

‘Come on, the last time I went in there after you, I came
out stinking of lavender air freshener and eau de shit. You must have emptied
the entire contents of the can, let alone your bowels. I could taste and smell
the damn stuff hours later, and even Devon screwed up his nose when I turned up
on his doorstep and he went to kiss me.’

‘That’s so unfair, you know I have lactose intolerance
and can’t resist cheese. Besides, you try having two kids, it’s like squeezing
two giant watermelons out of your vagina. It’s no surprise my bits are screwed
up and I get next to no warning when I need to empty my bladder. I … no Mrs.
Smith, I completely understand that you can’t afford the premiums right now,
but if your husband was horrifically disfigured in an accident and could no
longer work, your income source would cease immediately. It’s not easy to pluck
chickens when you have no hands, is it? So really, could you afford not to have
taken income protection insurance if that were to happen?’

I flicked another look over my shoulder, at the switch to
her professional dialogue, to see that Barry, the fat, sweaty, balding, and
lecherous senior sales manager, was doing his hourly walk through the sea of
sales agents desks, to check on our progress for the morning. I quickly
terminated the call and dialled the next number on my list, flicking my eyes up
to the large sales board at the head of the room to make sure I’d updated my
two sales this morning. I hated that damn thing. It had all of our names listed
down the side, with space to the right to mark down the number of sales made
that day. When we made one, we had to go up and mark the board, then ring a
bell to let everyone else know. As if that, in addition to timing our toilet
breaks, wasn’t humiliating enough, they even made us change desks on a daily
basis according to our sales rankings. The closer to the board you were, the
better you were doing, so your reward was having to walk less steps to mark off
your achievements for the day. I was usually somewhere around the middle, Tanya
nearly always towards the back.

We’d met here at work and had clicked instantly. The fact
that we both hated our jobs was a starting point for our friendship, but we’d
both stuck it out here as the money and benefits were reasonably good. I’d
figured I’d just bide my time until I found something else that paid as well, but
here I was, five years later, still miserable as hell.

‘Cheers, here’s to a fun afternoon.’ I held up my glass
of wine for Tanya to clink and she grinned at me as we both relaxed back in our
chairs and waited for our food to arrive. A mid-week time out was just what I
needed. Devon and I were leaving on Thursday night, so I only had one more day
of work left before I could chill out properly. I sipped my cold glass of Sancerre
and wondered if we were actually going to see any of Paris, or if we’d just be
fucking all weekend. Not that I’d object to coming home thoroughly well used
and slightly sore, but it seemed a shame to go to such a lovely city and to
only see the inside of our hotel suite. ‘So, you and Dave, what’s the deal?
Why’s sex become so boring?’

‘Listening to what you and Devon get up to, I don’t think
it’s become boring, I think it always was. The most daring we ever got was
doing it in the back of his old Ford Escort, up a country lane, when we were
teenagers.’

‘You’ve never tried dressing up, or toys?’

‘Not exactly. He got excited once when we went to a
Halloween party and I was wearing a Little Bo Peep outfit,’ she shrugged. I
nearly spat my wine all over the table as I tried to contain my laughter.

‘Bo Peep, on Halloween? How’s that scary?’

‘It is when you’re allergic to dairy products,’ she
pouted.

‘You won’t get the shits from being in the presence of a
sheep.’

‘I would if I was surrounded by them, they have evil
faces. One bit me when I was little, you know, I honestly thought I’d be
scarred for life.’

‘Evil faces,’ I chortled, my shoulders shaking with
mirth. ‘You’re so funny.’

‘So, you use toys and wear outfits and stuff?’

‘Of course. Thanks,’ I smiled up at the waitress as my
pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and mushrooms was placed in front of me.
Tanya had ordered spaghetti and meatballs, naturally with cheese, which would
mean we’d need to ensure we knew where the toilets were at all times this
afternoon.

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘You know, naughty nurse, army girl, sexy Santa, that
sort of stuff.’

‘You or Devon?’ she giggled.

‘Me,’ I grinned, forgoing my knife and fork to pick up a
slice to chew. ‘Though he does look seriously hot when he’s in army fatigues
with his chest oiled up and orders me around.’

‘I can imagine,’ she sighed, knocking back some wine.
‘Where do you get these outfits?’

‘Sex shops or online. They’re so common place now, even
catalogue companies offer them.’

‘And you get toys from there, too?’

‘Mmmm hmmm,’ I confirmed as I chowed down.

‘What sort of toys?’ she asked, leaning in a little and
lowering her voice as she loaded up her fork. I swallowed my pizza and looked
around. I’d die if Barry was sitting at the table behind, listening to our
conversation. Or worse, my sweet old Nana. She’d have a heart attack.

‘The usual. Edible underwear, body paint, stimulating
creams, vibrators, dildos, vibrating cock rings, butt plugs, run of the mill
stuff.’

‘Butt plugs?’ she exclaimed loudly, then quickly covered
her mouth as a few people at nearby tables turned to look in our direction.
‘Butt plugs?’ she repeated in a whisper this time.

‘Don’t knock them until you’ve tried them,’ I winked,
taking another bite of my pizza as she looked at me in wide-eyed amazement.

‘You use them, or … or … no! No way Devon would. He’s too
macho and straight. I can’t see a rugged and burly builder using a butt plug.’

‘O, Tan, you’re so naïve sometimes. Just because a guy
likes a bit of anal play doesn’t mean he’s gay.’

‘Dave would be mortified if I went anywhere near his
arse,’ she retorted, spinning her fork in her pasta to gather it up.

‘Well, you don’t just dive in first time, you have to
work up to it. A bit of stroking, licking, then finger probing, and if he
enjoys it, which most guys do, then you think about something a bit bigger.’

‘O my God. I can’t believe we’re talking about licking
and probing arses while we’re eating,’ she giggled with a slight shudder.

‘You asked,’ I reminded her.

‘I never imagined
that
much information. Do you
like, you know, anal?’

‘I didn’t used to, but Devon loves my backside so much,
he pays it so much attention that it’s really growing on me. You’ve never
tried?’

‘No!’ she shot back. ‘Neither receiving or giving. The
way Dave farts, I’d be scared of an acid-peel facial if I stuck my face
anywhere near the blast zone.’

‘No, not exactly the chocolate mud pack you’d choose to
use,’ I laughed. ‘Ok, let’s change the topic while we finish lunch, we can
discuss toys and tips when we go shopping.’

‘I just can’t believe you’re so experienced,’ she sighed,
shoving a meatball in her mouth. ‘I’m two years older than you and I’ve not
lived.’

‘Farting aside, you’re happily married with two kids. You
could argue that I haven’t lived. How many thirty-two year olds do you know out
there that still haven’t settled down? Besides, what have I really done with my
life? Other than a string of waste-of-space guys that I’ve left in my wake, I
still live in the same city I was born in, doing a job that I hate. I had all
of these plans to travel the world, to have exciting adventures I could
reminisce over when I’m finally in a retirement home. Other than sex, I’ve had
no excitement in my life at all and no children either.’

‘Do you want kids?’

‘One day, yes. I just wanted to live a bit first, before
I settled down into domesticity.’

‘Well, you need to make a decision soon, you’re not
getting any younger. Why don’t you and Devon just pack up and go travelling for
a while? Bugsy could run his construction firm for him while he was gone. Maybe
when you came back home, you and Devon would be in that settling-down-together
place.’

‘Maybe,’ I nodded. It was really bugging me why I was
finding it so hard to put my finger on why I just didn’t see that happening.