A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2) (17 page)

I slowly shift my head in his direction, peering at him with a how-dare-you glare. I turn back to them and say as if he isn’t even in the room, “I’m sorry he demanded that of you. It was
not
and is
not
his place to tell my friends to back off, even if they are related to him.”

“Agree to disagree,” Hunt murmurs from his wine glass as he tilts it back for a nice, long sip.

I sigh quietly, annoyed.

“Anyway,” I utter, “to answer your question, Vivian, I don’t know how she’s been either. I haven’t spoken to her since the funeral.”

“Oh, dear, why?” she asks, alarmed.

“Mother, now is not the time to discuss this. Elle will talk about it when she is ready.” Hunt steps in to save the day. He is my knight in shining armor, my dark prince.

“Thank you,” I mouth to him.

“You’re welcome,” he mouths back.

“Damian,” his mother says, “you’ll never guess who I spoke to yesterday.”

“You know I never will…Who, Mother?”

“Vanessa.”

Oh. My. Fuck. No
.

“Is that right?” Hunt responds, shifting in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “You didn’t happen to mention where I would be last night or whom I would be with, did you?”

“Yes,” she replies, “it may have come up. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” He shoots me a quick side-glance, letting me know he’s thinking the same damn thing as me. The psycho is stalking him.

“Wait,” Aubrey says, shaking her head and sticking her pointer finger up in a gesture to pause the moment, “did she show up at the Opera?”

“No,” Vivian answers, but clarity seems to wash over her face. She stares at Hunt with wide eyes and a slack mouth, and then asks, “Did she?”

“This is not up for discussion,” he states, clearly irritated by the choice in topic. I’m not too thrilled either. They must notice our discomfort because Keira blurts out, “Ah, that’s a total yes!”

“Ladies,” Pierce, who has been quietly hanging in the background, finally interjects, “can we change the topic to something a bit more appealing, please?”

That’s when Hunt’s phone goes off. It’s Banks’ ringtone. I remember those final moments with Hunt, waiting for news of Dante. I’ve come to dislike the sound of it.

“Hunt,” he answers the call, “Talk to me, Banks.”

He sits for a moment, listening attentively to every word as an array of expressions cross his face. For an instant, his eyes widen. “Hold on, Banks…I have to take this outside. If the food arrives before I get back, start without me.”

“But,” I sputter out as he rises from his chair and kisses me atop my head.

“I won’t be long,” he assures and walks out of sight and the restaurant. Right then, the food arrives and they dig in, but I wait. I’m too edgy to eat. I want to know what he’s talking about, whom he’s talking about. I can’t help but search for him through the crowd.

“Ellie, dear,” Vivian says, grabbing my attention, “you have no need to worry. He’ll be back in a few moments.”

Her words aren’t very comforting since I can spot the noticeable worry on her lovely, porcelain face. However, I comply, staring down at the tantalizing meal set before me. Hunt ordered my favorite, the almond breaded Alaskan halibut, drizzled with a tasty sauce, on a bed of barley and spring vegetables, arranged in a visually pleasing presentation of artisanship.

I pick at my meal slowly, taking small bites to ensure I would have something on my plate when he comes back. I guess it’s the submissive in me, that part of me that desires to please him, to ensure he is taken care of before myself. I reach up and touch the cool metal of the collar securely clamped about my small neck…Then again, it’s also called being a loving girlfriend.

T
wenty long minutes later, I am nearly finished with my fish and Hunt-less, sitting back in my chair with my wineglass firmly in hand. I can’t take it any longer.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I stand up, and with determined purpose, I stride through the bistro and out the front doors. I don’t see Damian at first glance, but when I peek about the corner, I find him in the dark, leaning against the side of the building with one foot up on the wall. I don’t notice the cigarette in his hand until he lifts it to his lips and inhales deep, causing the cherry to glow.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” I state the obvious.

“I used to, not so much anymore.” He takes another drag.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I retort and he gives me a not-now glare.

“I only have one if I’m really stressed, which isn’t too often…Odd, considering my career is stress-based.”

I suddenly feel emotionally drained, overwhelmed by the last few days, weeks, months. “Let me have a drag,” I say, walking over and leaning on the wall next to him. He elevates a brow and then hands it over.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he repeats back to me, smirking that lopsided grin. I roll my eyes at him and take a puff, sucking

in deep and holding it for an instant
.

Holy shit. I forgot how good they could be, how mellow they make me feel.
I take one more before handing it back to him.

“Where did you get that anyway…? Do you have some secret stash hidden in your pockets?”

“No, I bummed it off a guy walking his dog.”

“Interesting choice in words,” I comment, taking the cig from between his scissored fingers and inhaling another long drag.

“What was your call about?” I don’t even try to dance around it.

“There were company issues that needed my immediate attention.”

“I think you’re not telling me something. You’re keeping things from me and I don’t like it. I wish you wouldn’t keep me in the dark.”

“Gabrielle, it’s nothing that concerns you. I would inform you of anything you need to know. But, this isn’t one of those times. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise…Look,” he says, nodding his head toward Hyde St. I turn my head and spot the moon peeking through the cloud cover over the white Art Deco apartment building I once called home. Not any more, not since I found my home with Hunt…Right then, I come to a concrete decision.

“Hunt?”

“Yes,” he answers, with his head tilted against the wall, eyes closed, taking another draw off the cancer stick as Jules likes to call them.

“I want to move my things out of my apartment, preferably, this week. I would like to have my personals with me…If Artemis really is my home now, it should have touches of me there, too. Don’t you think?”

Hunt flicks our smoke into an ashtray I hadn’t noticed before. “I couldn’t agree more. I will send someone to pack everything up immediately.”

He pulls two pieces of spearmint gum from his pocket, handing me one. I cram it in my mouth and chew stridently. I open my purse and grab a travel-size perfume bottle, spritzing it twice over me and then Hunt.

“How do I smell?” I ask, leaning into him.

He traces his nose in the air about me. “You smell lovely as always. The breeze carried most of the scent away…I don’t want this to become a habit with you, understand?”

“Do as I say, not as I do. Yeah, I got it.”

“Smartass,” he murmurs and clasps my hand in his, guiding us back into the lively bistro.

Encounters

W
e make it home around ten and head upstairs to undress and take a bath. We make it up to the top step when Banks steps out from Hunt’s study with a dour look on his face. He doesn’t have to say a word.

I turn to Hunt beside me and say, “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

I kiss him on the cheek and walk into our room, striding into the closet to change into a black silk robe. I strip down and throw on the silky garment then head into the bathroom to remove my make-up and toss my hair into a loose bun atop my head.

Once I’m comfy, I turn off the lights using the touchscreen pad on the bedside table and lie across the mattress, curling up about a large, plush pillow. Before I know it, I’m fast asleep.

I
wake to the sound of running water and a bright light coming from the master bathroom. I stretch and yawn, rubbing my eyes until they adjust to the light. When they do, I spot Hunt’s massive, stark-naked form walk past the door and his clothes carelessly tossed on the floor leading to the bathroom.

I slide off the bed and stroll into the bathroom, losing my robe along the way. I step into the bathroom and find Hunt soaking in the sunken bath with his head resting on the edge and a washcloth over his eyes.

The jets are on, and the soothingly sweet scent of lavender and vanilla bath oil fills the air. I walk over to the wall near the tub where the touchscreen is placed and press the lighting setting, dimming them to an almost muted level. His eyes must be shut tight or he’s deep in thought because he doesn’t notice. I find a long lighter and a handful of candles on a shelf and set them about the edge of the tub, lighting them as I go. The gentle hum of the jets must camouflage the click of the lighter because, again, he doesn’t make a move. I walk over to the touchpad and punch in the music selection, finding my list of songs. I select Cat Power’s ‘The Greatest’. The gentle tune of a piano begins to play slowly, and a sorrowful female voice begins to coo.

Hunt reaches for the makeshift blindfold and pulls it off, staring at me with tired, tormented eyes, and I know what he needs…Me.

I step into the tub and settle into the warm, bubbling water, dunking myself beneath its turbulent surface. I move toward him, rising between his legs and slithering my body up his until we’re face-to-face, nose-to-nose. He doesn’t say a word or move. He watches me with those emerald eyes, eyes that tell of the pain and secrets he keeps.

He cradles me in his arms and shifts me onto his lap so I straddle him. His fingers dance up the sensitive flesh of my arm and shoulder to my neck. He has a tentative look in his eyes as he traces his digits over my forgotten collar. There’s something arousing in this simple act. I toss my arms about his neck and take his mouth onto mine with a fiery heat, smashing them together until they sting. His hand glides into my hair, pulling me away from him.

“I don’t want to fuck you, Elle. I want to make love to you. Take me gently, angel.” I moan at his words and come back in a little too eagerly. “Gently,” he whispers, halting me for an instant before I place my lips tenderly on his.

I tease and pet him, kiss and lick him, gently coaxing his mouth open with my warm, pink tongue, meeting his in an oral waltz. Our hands lightly roam the others wet, aching body, exploring every inch of flesh not melded together in our electric fusion.

His lips trail away from mine to my neck, over my collar, and across my chest. He kisses his way down to my breasts, tracing the edge of my areola and taking the hard, pink nub into his hot, moist mouth. He suckles and flicks it with a tender touch, causing the same explosions of arousal deep within me as if he were working it over roughly, with that primal tenacity that drives me to a maddening state of ecstasy.

I lift myself up and grasp him in my palm, aligning his throbbing head with my taut opening. His lips find mine once more, before I allow myself to sink onto him at an excruciatingly slow pace. He moans against my lips as I take every hard inch of him into me. We both whimper when I reach the base, taking a moment to feel our intimate connection.

He shifts his hips, commencing our sluggish rhythm, holding me tight against him with one hand firmly grasping my wet strands and the other arm curled about the small of my back. He lifts me off him to the tip and allows the weight of my body to pull me back down to the root.

Our lips don’t break until he moves them down my chin, neck, over my shoulder, and across my chest, bathing me in sweet kisses.

“You’re…so…beautiful…angel,” he utters between tender pecks. He moves his face into my hair. “You smell so good, Elle. I want to devour you.”

“Oh god, yes,” I moan out when he thrusts just right. “Ahhh.”

He quickens the pace slightly, when he feels me tense about him. Our wet bodies rub, and our breathing becomes harsh. I feel the warmth rise and my muscles tighten as the orgasm builds within me, driving me closer to the edge. He loops his fingers about the collar, between metal and flesh, grasping tightly as his orgasm takes over his trembling body.

“I love you, Elle,” he proclaims breathlessly, and it’s all it takes for me to topple over into the abyss.

“Oh, Hunt…I love you!” I groan out as I cum hard, clenching up and then going limp in his arms.

“That’s it,” he purrs, petting the back of my head while it rests heavily on his shoulder, still clinging to the symbol of submission. “Come for me, angel. Let it out.”

I twitch and jolt in his arms as his liquid orgasm pours deep inside me. I’ve been thirsty for it, desperate for the comforting, healing satisfaction it brings.

“I really missed you, Elle. I missed this, us,” he pants out, removing my collar and placing it aside. I lazily lift my head and he shifts some hair away from my eyes and caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. The look on his face is soft.