A Dominant Man (15 page)

I shoot him a smile and run a finger along his arm.

He slides the key into the slot and pushes a red start button on the steering wheel, switching on the ignition. She roars to life. The steering wheel has all kinds of buttons and controls on it.

He turns a knob near the gauges, and a song by a French rapper starts playing. I don’t see a stereo until I lean toward Hunt and spot an LCD screen built into the gauge panel. I discover
the song title displayed on it, ‘Le Belle et la Bad Boy’.

Hunt gives me a wicked grin and shifts her into gear b
y pushing one of three buttons on the middle console in place of a shifter. We inch down the driveway. The rows of lights gleam and reflect off the silver paint of the hood.

When w
e make it to the end, the deserted road lies ahead, begging us to test her out.

“How fast can she go?”

He revs the engine and guns it. After a sharp left, we’re zipping down the wide country road. I roll down my window, and the chilly night air whips around me. I’m laughing. My heart’s racing and blood’s pumping rapidly through my veins as adrenaline builds.

Still objects rush by in a blur, and far off lights are gone in a flash. The occasional street lamp
breaks the darkness in the car, allowing me an instant to admire his ridiculous grin. After a few minutes, he eases off the gas, and the car steadily slows until we’re going a more appropriate speed.

“How fast were we going?”

“Hundred. Felt faster, huh?”

“Yes,” I giggle out, and he gives me a youthful smirk.

“I don’t like driving so fast with you in the car, but I couldn’t resist.”

“I loved it. I defini
tely need one of these bad boys someday.”

“You’ll look fucking hot behind the wheel of this car.”

I sink back into my seat to watch him drive. He’s confident in his ability to handle this choice piece of machinery. He’s the type of man who’s competent, can do anything he sets his mind to and does it well. I feel safe and find myself drifting to sleep.

W
hen I wake, Damian is cradling me in his muscular arms, in an elevator on our way to god knows where.

“Where are we?” I ask sleepily.

“The Artemis. I thought you would prefer to stay at my penthouse instead.”

I’m on my way to his home.
I suddenly feel energized.

“Wasn’t Artemis the goddess of the hunt? That’s very clever.”

“Thanks. I like it. You’re a smart girl.”

“What time is it?”

“Ten thirty. If you’re tired, we can go to bed.”

“No, I’m not tired anymore, but I do want to go to bed.”

“Hungry for me?”

“Ravenous.”

He brings me to his lips passionately, and I grab at his hair. The kiss sends me into a fog and a tingly weakness rushing from lips to toes. He breaks from me, breathless, still carrying me, cradling me in his capable arms. I realize how protected I feel, how right it feels. There’s only us.

The doors open directly into the two-story high, main living area. It’s breathtaking. It isn’t what I expected, which was a cold, modern, sterile environment, but this space is masculine and cozy, inviting me to stay awhile. The walls are painted a dark shade of gray
, with black and white photos of landmarks around San Francisco and the world, adorning them. They contain a depth and beauty that captures the photographer’s view of the world. They are truly exceptional.

Black crown molding frames the enormous white ceiling. A large, round, cream rug embellishes the polished
, dark cherry wood floors. In the center of the space, a massive, C-shaped, cream-colored leather couch encases a huge, circular, glass and stainless steel coffee table. The couch faces a black marble fireplace to our right.

Straight ahead of the elevators, an enormous glass wall displays a spectacular view of the city and bay. The Golden Gate Bridge illuminated in the distance. If I look closely, I can see my apartment building atop Russian Hill, my bedroom and living room facing us.

This place is astonishing and immaculate, yet I don’t feel I’ll ruffle anything or don’t belong. Damian presses a touchpad screen on the wall next to the elevator, and the fireplace comes to life.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“This is the ultimate bachelor pad equipped with any device to get a woman in the mood. Wait.” I stick my pointer finger in the air and scan the room cautiously. “You forgot the mood music.”

He presses it again, and Dinah Washington’s ‘Romance in the Dark’ fills the air.

“I love this song, one of my favorites,” I comment.

He smiles at me. “I don’t bring women here.”

“What am I, a dog?”

“Hardly, no, you’re the only woman I’ll have in my home…The kitchen is to our left through the dining room. The game room, gym, etc., down the hall to your right…”

“Wait. That’s all you’re going to say. Why don’t you bring women here?”

“Because I never wanted to.”

“Obviously, where did you take them?”

He links his fingers around the back of his neck and lets out a long breath. “I’m going to tell you about a part of my life that may frighten you. I’ll understand if you leave once you hear my exp
lanation.”

“You believe I won’t want you when you tell me where you take girls to fuck?”

“There’s more to it than that.” His breathing’s rapid, eyes show fear.

“Please, tell me. You’re starting
to make me nervous. The movie ‘American Psycho’ is coming to mind.”

“Fuck no!” He inhales sharply. “I don’t pick up woman at random bars…” I give him a look. “Besides you, I fuck a certain type of woman who has an understanding of what I want…”

“Oh, fuck! Prostitutes?!”

“No, Christ! I carry on monogamous ‘relationships’ with
submissives who reside in an apartment I own.” My mouth hangs wide-open. I don’t know what to say. Hunt appears agitated and nervous. “Don’t gawk at me. Say something.”

“You keep subs in some Dungeon of Domination?”

“Dungeon of Domination? Yes, I keep them there, but not against their will. They’re allowed to come and go as they please, as long as I know where they are.”

“Is there a girl there now?” I blurt, remembering he already told me I’m the only one.

“No,” he replies calmly.

“Do you want me to be your sub?”

“Yes. I want you to give yourself to me. However, I don’t want to treat you the way I did them. I would prefer to find a middle ground.”

“How?” I murmur, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.

“You’ll be my submissive in the bedroom and when it’s beneficial to your well-being outside the bed. You’re my girlfriend, which means unlike them, you sleep in my bed, stay in my home, and we go out in public as a couple.”

“You would beat me.”

“No, I give vigorous spankings, but I don’t only do it as punishment. It’s quite pleasurable.”

“For whom? I’ll be the one with the throbbing raw ass…Wait, punishment?”

“Yes, I have guidelines about what I deem punishable. If I feel you are being naughty, I punish you.”

“Punish me?” I murmur in a daze
but snap out of it quickly. “I’m trying to comprehend the fact you’re a…
Dom
,” I say it with an almost disgusted tone, and he appears offended, tensing.

“Yes, I am, and I won’t allow you to speak about it with distain. I will not be shamed by how I’ve chosen to live my life. I trust you enough to let you in, and you talk to me as if I’m
shit. You could’ve simply said you aren’t interested and want me to take you home.”

I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. If this is what he needs from me, why couldn’t I try? He has for me.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t?” he asks, bewildered.

“Well, if you want me to.”

I turn toward the elevator, and he snatches me up from behind, holding me firmly to his solid body.

“Never. Once I tasted you, I was addicted. You’re mine.” He rests his face in my wind tossed hair and inhales. “I don’t want you to think you’re required to do this. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“S&M isn’t something you just st
op. You obviously enjoy it, want it. How could I keep you from something you love?”

“I want you. I’ll take you any way I can get you. Even if it means I never take a paddle to your delightful ass.”

“I never said no.” My voice is a shaky whisper.

“You’ll consider?”

“Yes. I need a say in what can be done and how far you go. If you allow me that, I don’t see why I can’t try.” I face him and gaze into his eyes. “You’ll find I can be an adventurous lover in the bedroom. I’m no innocent angel, even though you think I am. I may come off shy and virginal, but I’m only like that with you.”

He smashes me into him and brushes a wisp of hair away from my eyes. I stop breathing at the affectionate gesture. 

“I’m relieved you’re not. Your face is so angelic. I suppose I misread you. Once I told you, I was sure you would slap me and run out. I promise I won’t do anything to harm you. It is exceedingly important that you have complete involvement in what happens or doesn’t. This is a part of our arrangement and your role. I will go into more detail later.”

“Why do you do this?”

“It satisfies my urge to control, dominate, provide. What I do isn’t entirely tying up and beatings,” he replies dryly.

“You’re a control freak,” I state.

He arcs a brow, and a sly smirk spreads across his lips. “I prefer to think of myself as a control aficionado or devotee of discipline.”

“Why do you crave control?”

“What’s with the third degree?”

He isn’t serious, but he definitely doesn’t want to answer that one.

“I’m sorry. I’m curious as to what makes you tick. I want to solve the puzzle that is Damian Hunt. I’m glad you’ve opened up as much as you have, but you can’t blame a girl for wanting more.”

“No, I can’t.
I’m curious, too. I’ve been wondering why you have issues with men.”

“That’s too much to ask of me right now. I’m not ready, but when I am
, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Would you want to see the
apartment where I like to play tomorrow? I’m going to pick up a few things, and I figured you might accompany me.”

I am interested. How might it look? What kind of depraved things would I find there?

“I’m attending a funeral tomorrow, but before or after I get back home would be good. It starts at two.”

“Do you have a way to get there?”

“I’ll take a cab. I don’t have a car.”

“Unacceptable. I’ll escort you, and we’ll go to the apartment after I purchase you a dress for the wake. After being away from you this long
, I want to spend as much time with and in you as possible.”

“I missed you,
too, Damian. This past week was…”

“I wasn’t referring to the past week.”

I’m in a daze. The words sensually roll out of his sumptuous mouth. From startling to adoring, I’m never sure what will come out of his mouth next.

“What are you thinking?” Hunt asks with an enquiring gaze.

“We should be making up for lost time.”

He smirks as he takes my hand and leads me to the couch near the warmth of the fire. Hunt leaves me there to admire the large room and saunters over to the coffee table.

I’m gazing out at the landscape when the lights dim and the song changes to an intensely, epic ballad about not deserving of that one person whose love is unconditional.

I wonder who does this song?  

He ambles back over to me. “Don’t Deserve You by Plumb,” Hunt answers my unspoken question with a cocky smirk.

“How did you…”

“I know you, Gabrielle,” he replies before I can get out the rest of my pointless query. “Would you care to dance, Miss Hyde?” he inquires.

He tucks one arm behind his back and extends a hand out to me. He looks regal in his tux, like a g
entleman from the Victorian era asking his ladylove to bestow him with a waltz.

“I would love a dance, Mr. Hunt.” I rest my hand in his, and he gathers me into his arms, one hand on my upper back with the other held out shoulder height.

He sweeps me around the room, spinning and twirling me gracefully. His form is impeccable. He’s a wonderful dancer, competent and poised as he waltz’s me about the massive room.

My mom always told me, a man who’s good on the dance floor was the same in bed. With Hunt, it rings true.
He’s the most exquisite dancer and lay I’ve ever had. He’s in complete control of his body, of himself, of me, and it’s alluring.

Once he has brought us full circle, halting us in front of the fireplace, he clutches me against him. We seductively sway to the music while he begins to undress me, leisurely slipping one shoulder off at a time. The dress drapes at my waist revealing my bare torso, after he tugs it over my hips it flutters to the floor. I push off his tuxedo jacket, and while he’s getting his arms out, I’m unbuttoning his shirt.
Then I lunge at his pants.