Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (89 page)

But I don’t get him yet, even though he’s ripping aside my underwear and pulling his rigid cock out of his pants. No, the asshole dares to bend down and kiss me, pushing his tongue down my throat as I grab the back of his head with my shaking hands.

How dare he be affectionate.

“Stop being so considerate and fuck me,” I hiss, clawing his shirt and pulling my legs higher into the air. “I know you want to, so do it.”

I sound like the Domme I’m still playing. Hey, I don’t mind that sort of situation. Ian’s more than welcome to follow my orders, especially if it gets him fucking me, pinned against my bed or not.

Who said I had to be on top to Top?

“You’re right,” he grunts, holding my legs up as he pushes his tip into my wet entrance. “I do want to fuck you.”

That tone to his voice. That glint in his eye. He’s still in the head of a Dom as well.

This is… going to be interesting.

Sure enough, the next two minutes are a loud, pleasure-feasting blur as Ian drives himself into me, sparing the gentleness as he takes me roughly enough to put me in my place. I don’t fall for that, however. Didn’t he see me out there? This is my house. That was my sub I was sharing with him. He should feel
honored
that I let him express any sort of domination at all tonight. And now he thinks he’s going to overpower me? He thinks this sex we’re having is about me deferring to him?

I don’t think so.

I bite his lip, hearing him groan in my ear as he uses all of his strength to keep me down. His body, his determination is making me so hot that I feel my body opening up to take every fucking inch of him. Ian’s kisses are both a blessing and sheer poison. They make me do things I would never otherwise consider.

“Fuck me, my prince.” I’m embarrassingly famished, but not so much that I care what comes out of my mouth. All I care about is what’s going
in
my other lips. “Fuck me and claim me as yours.”

To my utter horror, Ian pulls out, his cock wet from me and the precum coming out of the head. Fine. If he won’t fuck me, then I’m going to take care of this damned erection that’s probably causing my poor Ian so much discomfort.

Just as I’m about to kneel and put my lips on his cock, however, he pushes me back down, turning me over and lifting my ass into the air.

“Shut up,” he mutters, hooking his hands beneath my thighs so they’re spread and ready for him to enter me again. “The only words I want to hear from you are the sounds of you coming.”

Try me, Ian.

All right, ah shit, I am pathetic and ridiculous. The moment he thrusts into me, wrapping his hand in my hair and holding me down by the neck so I can’t even lift my head, I’m done.

I’m his.

His.

Body, mind, soul. It scares me how quickly I slip into this role. I don’t even think about it. I do it, because it feels right, and because I
want
it.

I’m not scared anymore. If anything, I feel empowered, because this man understands me and won’t let me feel anything but aroused and pleasured.

Oh, and him too, I guess.

“Are you mine, Katie?” he asks, stilling himself inside me, his cock wedged deep and filling me to every brim I possess. “At the end of the day, do you belong to me?”

My fingers grip my bedspread. I want to cry, because I’m so hungry for release that this man is
torturing
me. He’s so close to taking me to the edge and over it. If he went another thirty seconds…

“Yes, sir,” I whimper. “I’m yours.”

“Then you better make sure I know.”

He moves again.

I start to die.

“Yes, please, fuck me, sir!” I can only lift my arms, but my hands are content to stay splayed against the bed. My head is heavy beneath his palm. My breasts are crushed beneath me. My knees dig into the edge of my bed, my ass so high that every stroke of his cock pushes deeper and deeper within me. I feel him swell, pulse, and share his skin with mine until it’s so divine that I sob in gratitude. “Take me!”

I want him to come as much as I want to come. I want to feel it spread through me like burning fire, to claim me, to mark me as his for the rest of my life. I know he’s mine. I’ll always know that this man belongs to me. Right now, though, I need to feel the undying truth that my body and my heart belong to him as well.

Go ahead, Ian. Take me however you please.

Punish me.

When he spanks the side of my ass, holding himself inside me, I am neither surprised nor scared. I feel shocks of pleasure zip through me. The pain is… exquisite.

“You’re out there, telling me what to do, making me touch another woman while you got to have all the fun of fucking with her head.” Another spank. I shriek into the comforter, willing my legs apart so he can claim all of me. “You get me so hard that it’s taking every ounce of my self-restraint to keep from being an uncontrolled beast out there. Do you know what I wanted to do, Katie?”

I whimper. “No, sir. What did you want to do?”

I yelp as he spanks me again. “I wanted to fuck that ass you made me get so red. You made me want to throw you on the floor and fuck you like this in front of that woman. I wanted to punish you both for turning me into this animal that I am.”

You didn’t, Ian. I let a smile trickle across my lips. “I’m sorry, sir. Please, punish me.”

“Oh, I
will.
”

I don’t know how he does it. I don’t know how he keeps himself from coming, even though he must be so far on the edge that he’s about to tip over at any moment. Is it to make a point to me? That he can hold himself back as long as necessary? Is it to punish me, because he knows I want him to come inside me? It’s a reward, Kathryn. Your Dom isn’t going to reward you with his seed until you’ve performed your duties.

My fingers pull against my flesh as I reach behind me, trying to open myself to him, stretching my body to its limits as he pushes his body to his own limits. We’re going to die like this. I’m going to die.

“Are you mine, Katie?” he asks again, fucking me harder, faster. I’m so close. My toes are tingling, my breasts are begging to be touched, and the depths of my core are stroked by the head of his cock every other second. I feel my wetness slide down my thighs every time he pulls out far enough. My clit, as I reach between my legs and rub it, is so engorged and sensitive that I almost can’t come near it. Finally, I drop my hand, content to feel only him inside me. “Are you my sub?”

“Yes, sir!” It’s coming. Orgasm is taking control of me, my inner walls holding him within me so he can’t dare to escape again. “I’m yours!”

“Is your body mine?” He sounds crazed, and I don’t doubt for a second that he’s waiting for the right moment to unleash every bit of frustration festering inside him. “Even though you’re a Domme, you belong to
me,
right?”

I hear his words, but my body is full of so much undying, unrelenting release that everything is trembling, including my voice. “Yes! Please! Please come inside me!” I want to feel his warmth before I come down from the high that is shattering my brain.

I don’t.

My orgasm subsides, and I’m… dead. That’s the only word to describe me. I can’t move a thing. Even though I came that hard, he still didn’t. Within a few seconds, however, he’s pulling out of me with a groan. I barely have time to register the sensation between my legs before he turns me onto my back and takes a step away from me.

“On your knees.
Now.
”

You don’t disobey a command like that. Not with that tone shaking you to the very bare bones of your being. So even though I’m completely
through
in my body, I do what my Dom commands, sliding off the edge of my bed and getting on my knees in front of him.

I think I’m going to finish him with my hands and mouth, but he’s ahead of me.

Way ahead of me.

“Tell me you want it,” he growls, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock. “
Tell me!
”

My heart is beating so fast that I think I might be sick. My eyes widen. My thighs are so wet at the thought that I am this close to asking him to fuck me again.

“Yes, sir,” I say, forcing my chin up so I look right into his hazel eyes. “Give it to me.”

I mean it.

Nevertheless, I shriek when he finally climaxes, the first wave of seed hitting me right in the face.

It’s on my skin. It’s in my hair, It’s hitting my dress and sinking into my cleavage. He’s not even being careful with his aim. Ian is too lost in finally getting his relief that all that matters is coming anywhere on me, although I do not doubt his intent is to cover my face in his cum.

It shatters me. When he’s done, sighing in such tremendous relief, I fall forward onto my hands and feel his seed descend my cheeks and neck. I taste it at the corner of my lips. Oh, God.

That was… the hottest thing. This
is
the hottest thing.

Ian sits on the bed behind me. “Kathryn?”

I laugh. Speckles of seed fall on my carpet with every movement of my facial muscles. “You fucking asshole.”

Harder, I laugh. I feel him tense behind me. Yet I am about to cackle, because here I am, begging for a man to come on my face.

I feel claimed. Comfortable.
Freed.

My hand pats his foot. “Go start the shower, asshole. You’re going to wash every drop of this shit off me.”

He moves. A gentle hand rubs the top of my head. “Fair enough, my queen.”

A smile cracks through my visage. I watch Ian go into my bathroom, stripping out of his clothes. Such pretty, clean skin. Would be a shame if we got out of the shower and I happened to straddle his face in bed.

You see? Two can play at this game of Dom vs. Domme.

Epilogue

IAN

Somewhere in the distance, my mother’s voice is baying for Kathryn and me to come join the family for cocktails in the salon. She’s gone through great pains putting this intimate party together in celebration of the six month anniversary since I pinned Kathryn against a wall and certifiably lost my mind.

I suppose it’s the least we could do to make an appearance.

Why would we?

“Champagne?” I ask, taking a bottle and glass out of the basket I brought out to the field. Kathryn and I are hiding on the edges of the clean lawn sprawling behind my family’s house. Ever since my mother semi-moved back in, however, she’s been pressuring her ex-husband-turned-main-squeeze-again to put in a decent flower garden. If they get remarried, that will probably be in the prenup.

Kathryn holds up the glass I handed her. “Fill me up.”

I hold in an immature snort. “Don’t I always?”

It’s quiet out here. Some birds, the breeze in the trees, and something that sounds like a deer trampling in the woods behind us. This is the first warm day we’ve had in a long time. It’s also the first real break either of us has had since I moved on to the next project upstate and Kathryn opened the museum in The Grand.

It’s a quaint museum. It’s bullshit that the council made us pick between that piece of education or a whole historical hotel. Yet if it weren’t for them, perhaps this moment would not exist.

Kathryn is gorgeous in a cream-colored dress that hugs her figure and blends in nicely with her hair, worn down to keep her neck warm from the chilly breeze. Her tight-covered legs draw up on our blanket. I’d say we were having an impromptu picnic, but when I decided we needed to escape our nosy families, I only had this blanket and a basket full of booze to keep us dry and warm.

We’re only going to be out here for about twenty minutes, but I needed privacy with my girlfriend. There’s a hole burning in my pocket, and it’s not because of money. It’s because of a box I never thought I’d be carrying around a few months ago.

“I love our families, but…” Katie downs half her glass of champagne as I rest my head on her shoulder. “They are tiring. If your mother asks me one more time if we’re having a healthy sex life, I will actually slap her, Ian. I know it’s code for pregnant.”

I shake my head and pour her more champagne. “She’s smitten with you. And your womb. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“She’s
convinced
we’re not only having babies, but I’m due to give birth at any time.”

“She likes children.” I drink some champagne, enjoying the bubbly sensation in my throat and stomach. “Although it’s weird that she would target you, one of her feminist friends.”

“Hmph. I love you, my prince, but we’re a
long
way away from even discussing the remote possibility of me bending over and begging you to knock me up.”

Now there’s an image.

“My father said that he had no problem with me adopting. As long as there’s one grandkid to spoil someday, I don’t think my mother will care where or whom it came from.”

Kathryn gives me a
look.
One that I know means,
“We are not going there.”