Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (37 page)

“Of course we’re going to have lunch sometimes.”

“How about going to the symphony?”

I sit up straight. “How did you know about that?”

“Mutual friend saw you guys there that night. In the Mathers’s box.”

“So? He offered to take me and I like the symphony.”

“Kathryn Margaret Alison,” Eva says with that mother’s disdain, “I know you ain’t dating that guy, so…”

“So what?” I need to be careful with the defensiveness, but I can’t help it. Eva’s driving me a bit nuts!

She turns her lips up into a rueful smile. “Are you fucking Ian Mathers?”

“What!”

“You heard me. You’re getting all flustered talking about him. People are seeing you together when two weeks ago you wouldn’t have been caught dead spending more time than you had to with him. Plus, uh, mutual friend says you two were…um… quite
cozy
in that booth.”

All the color drains from my face.

Oh my God.

“You like giving Doms blowjobs at the symphony, huh?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

Although I mean for my tone to be exasperated, it comes out embarrassed. Like me. Fuck it all.

“No way.” The asshole laughs, knocking over her popcorn bowl. Thank God it’s empty, and thank God she didn’t knock over her wine. “
No way.
”

“Shut up.”

“So it’s true? You’re fucking Mathers?”

More like he’s fucking me right now, but I’m not going to tell her that. “It’s a casual thing. We’re not even
dating,
let alone in a real relationship.” No way in hell am I telling her about the Dom thing. It’s bad enough she found out about him and me fooling around like this.

“He’s a…”

“I know what he is!” Why is my voice projecting? Why am I getting worked up like this? Shit, Kathryn, get it together! “Do you have BDSM sex with
every
person you fuck? No? I didn’t think so. It’s not like that. We’re not being kinksters.” I’m really into this whole lying thing.

Then again, I tell myself, it isn’t like that every time with him. Last week we made pretty amazing love… shit, there I go calling it that again.

What is wrong with me?

“Well, far be it from
me
to tell you what you are or aren’t doing in the bedroom.” Eva picks up the empty bowl, including some tiny kernels that managed to make it onto my carpet. “Although I hope you know what you’re doing. At some point that man is going to try it with you, and he may not realize he’s putting his cock up on the guillotine for it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Speaking of which…” Eva looks way too comfy on my couch. Sure, she’s oozed all over it more than once in my life, but there’s something extra mischievous about it this time. And it’s all directed at me. “How is it?”

“How’s what?”

She scoffs. “You know what I’m talking about. How’s the cock?”

I shake my head. She’s kidding herself if she thinks we’re having this delicious kind of girl talk. She will never, ever let me live it down if she found out that…

“I’ve heard two stories about Ian’s penis over the years,” Eva says with a languished sigh. “Some say he has a massive donkey dick. Others say it’s practically microscopic. So? Which?”

Normally I would love to engage in cock talk with my best friend. God knows I’ve spent a good portion of my adult life comparing the dicks of both Doms and subs at the club. I mean, with the Doms, half of them are hanging out anyway. The subs have probably been inside me at some point.

But I don’t feel like talking about it now. Probably because this is a lot more personal than some guy I picked up at the club and took for a ride for an hour until he popped and couldn’t go anymore.

Eva’s stare bores into me. I’m not getting off this couch until I divulge
something
to her. Great. Time to play a game I have no interest in playing.

“It’s not microscopic,” I say, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s also
not
a ‘donkey dick’ either. That sounds painful.”

“Hey, you’re the heterosexual one here. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Eva’s grin is so big and stupid that I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. She’s never mentioned whether or not she’s fucked guys before. I know she doesn’t now, obviously, but the words “gold” and “star” have never passed her lips either. So it’s not totally impossible that Eva Warren knows what a good-sized cock is.

“How many inches?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Girl.”

My eyes can’t roll hard enough. I also haven’t really thought about it before. How big Ian’s cock is, anyway. Partly because I’m usually too lost in a drunken haze of
sex.
“Above average, for sure. Don’t know the exact length and I don’t care.”

“He knows how to use it, eh?”

“Would you
shut up?
”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The farther this conversation goes, the more I’m convinced Eva’s getting off on stirring the pot. “You’ve never been this uptight about sex talk before. What is with this guy making you acting like a closed-lip prude?”

“I am not.” I straighten up, my pride suddenly on the line. It’s true. Usually I’m the first to start blabbing about cocks when we’re in this situation. “All right. Fine. He’s stupid big around the head… and I don’t mean the one with the brain in it.”

“Go on. Is he cut or uncut?”

“Cut.”

Eva shakes her head.

I’m not going to ask her how she can formulate an opinion on this. “He spurts like five times when he comes. All thick.”

“
Five?
” Finally, I see that claim of “I’m a lesbian who knows nothing!” on Eva’s face. Woman knows about cock size, but not so much about cock finales. “Is that a lot?”

“I’m used to like… three. Not all thick.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, and he knows he’s special, too.”

“I bet. Men with a lot of privilege like him usually do.”

“He’s not
that
bad in that sense.” I think of how patient Ian is with me in the world of sex and romance. I’ve freaked out on him quite a few times by now, and while I can see him get exasperated with me, he’s never made me feel ashamed or somehow less than as a potential sub. It can’t be easy – or fun – for him to deal with. Yet the other night, when I finally got over my fear of him coming inside me… bare? Well, I got over the fear, but not the apprehension. Either way, he helped me with that. Going forward, I like to think it gets easier until I’m…

What? Begging for it? Mercy upon me.

“He’s a good lover,” I murmur.

Eva doesn’t speak for a minute. She looks between the empty popcorn bowl and me, her eyes clouded over, deep in thought.

“You guys a thing?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t know the answer. Aside from, “It wouldn’t work as a serious relationship. We’re fooling around. You know how it is. We’re both dominant.”

Eva looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t. Whatever it is, it would probably piss me off.

I never get to find out because the doorbell rings.

“Who the hell?” The only person who comes up directly to my door is Eva, and she’s already here. I doubt it’s a delivery, as I’m not expecting anything.

Nevertheless, I get up, bracing myself for the surprise of my life – which I get.

“Kathryn!” Two perfumed hands clutch my face as Caroline Grant-Mathers gets all up in my personal space. “So good to see you, dear! It’s been a while.”

I stumble back in my doorway as she nearly barrels me over. Behind me, in the living room, Eva laughs in utter disbelief. I keep waiting for her to say, “We were talking about your son’s cock!” but thank the Lord it never comes.

It takes a few seconds, but I recover my bearings and my hospitality. Caroline is ushered into my living area, where I offer to take her fur coat, but she declines, citing that she won’t be staying for long.

“Why, if it isn’t Evangeline,” she says sweetly, staring down my best friend. They exchange fake smiles. “Haven’t seen you around much lately. How’s school?”

While they submerge themselves in idle chatter, I get Caroline a small cup of coffee to tie her over. Is it strange that I know she likes a hefty amount of cream and no sugar? I don’t know where I remember this from. Probably a function long ago. Either way, I feel like the prodigious daughter-in-law as I serve her coffee in my own home.

Until now, I never really saw Caroline as “Ian’s mother.” She’s always had such a tight identity of her own – how can she not, given her machinations in the Mathers family? – that there was no need to think of her in relation to her husband and son. Most women in our world have those kinds of identities. They’re known for being so-and-so’s wife, mother, daughter. The best they can hope for is striking out on their own a bit, but many don’t bother, whether out of choice or disillusionment.

I’ve always looked up to Caroline because she knows what she wants and is completely unapologetic about getting it. We laugh about her marriage and divorce, but think about it – how well played! Dominic Mathers wrote in a prenup that she wouldn’t get half his fortune in a divorce unless they were married for twenty years. In exchange for getting married over Ian’s conception, he asked her to invest more than her body. He wanted her time. Twenty years of being the hot wife. A hot, smart wife who did more than be arm candy at functions. Caroline didn’t mind being with the man, but she wanted to see her worth upfront. Her own personal worth… and wealth.

Growing up with women like that in my family’s social circle helped shape who I am. Probably. I saw women like Caroline and realized that I could make my own way without my father’s help. It’s tougher being a woman, but at least I know it’s possible.

That doesn’t mean I know why she’s here. Or that I’m suddenly not thinking of her son, especially since they share the same arch of the eyes and high cheekbones.

She’s a glamorous woman who doesn’t look a day over thirty, even though she’s much older. What? Fifty? I think so. Today she’s wearing a body-hugging long-sleeved dress designed to look like intricate oil pools. From one angle she’s covered in blues and purples, and from another she’s nothing but greens and reds. The high-neck of her black fur coat makes her look more sophisticated. Especially when I realize it’s vintage fur. The Mathers, especially Caroline and Ian, are infamous for being environmentally and ecologically conscious to a fault. No way would Caroline purchase any real fur that wasn’t vintage.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Caroline?” I ask, sitting by Eva on my couch. The woman takes a chair adjacent to us. The coffee is untouched in her hands. “You don’t stop by here often.” Or ever.

She glances at Eva. “I was actually hoping we could speak in private, dear.”

Eva takes the hint without offense. “I need to use the ladies’ room anyway.” She gets up, taking the empty popcorn bowl and wineglasses to my kitchen before diverting to the guest bathroom. Caroline eyes her before turning back to me.

“How’s the project coming along, dear?”

“Dear” is basically a copula for Caroline, and I usually ignore it, but today it seems slathered in some strange feeling. I don’t know what to make of it.

“It’s coming along fine. I can’t apologize enough for holding things up in the beginning part of this plan.”

“Oh, don’t fret over it. The Andrews needed a reason to broach the council subject, and you were a scapegoat handed to them on a silver platter.” Gee, that doesn’t make me feel any better. “I’m more concerned about how you’re dealing with my darling little family.” The condescension dripping from her fangs would be hilarious if she weren’t talking about the man I’m currently fucking.

“You mean Ian?”

“Ian, Dominic… even that cute gal Valerie working for my son. They’re all kind of the same in some areas.”

“You’re not?”

“Hell no! I’m a girl who made the best out of a… terrible and unfortunate situation.” Her grin says otherwise. I’ve often wondered – and I’m not the only one – if Caroline got pregnant out of wedlock on purpose. “However, I know firsthand how difficult those boys can be. I may have given birth and raised one, but he’s still his father’s son, bless him.”

“I haven’t had any problems to speak of.”

My lips are tight, which means Caroline doesn’t believe me. I’ve never been shy in recent years about what an ass Ian can be. She often agrees with me, laughing into champagne, coffee, tea, or whatever she has on hand at the time. Today she’s not even touching the coffee I gave her.

“You know…” she begins, and I’m not sure I like the tone in her voice. “I made quite the flub the other day talking to my boy. All this time I thought that you two once dated. He set me right, don’t you worry… but I’ve been wondering if I really misremembered that or not.”

I attempt to keep my demeanor pleasant, but it’s faltering. “Ian and I never dated. We’ve known each other for quite a while, however.”