Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (71 page)

I can still remember what it’s like to enter her. To hear her moans. To feel her climax on my cock, clutching it inside her and massaging it until I can’t hold in my seed any longer.

Kathryn glances at my crotch. Great.

“I don’t have time. The shit I have to say to you would take an eternity to get through.”

I have no idea if that’s good or bad. Maybe neither. Maybe both.

“All I’ll say is that… well, I’m not angry with you, Ian. I’ve missed you.”

Nope. Not daring to answer, even though I would really love to get on my knees and start groveling.
“Shit, shit, I’ve missed you too! Let’s go back to my place and tell each other how much we’ve been missed!”
The fact that her sudden departure from the country is the reason we’ve missed each other escapes my mind for a moment.

“Even though I’ve missed you, now is not the time to sort our shit out.”

Our
shit?

“Take care, Ian.” By some stroke of luck, she puts her hand on my shoulder before she walks away. “I’ll see you at the hotel on Monday.”

She kicks herself off the wall, arms still crossed but eyes not pointing to the floor. She’s confidant, regardless of her feelings for me. Shit, it’s that confidence that originally attracted me to her. Maybe I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s a definite truth. My love for Katie grew from a germ as small as an ounce of her confidence.

Not just because she’s a Domme, either, but because she’s the type of woman to go out and get what she wants… and I admire that. Am
attracted
to that.

“I’ve missed you too…” I say loud enough for her to hear, or at least I hope. “My darling.”

Kathryn looks at me with a depraved grin and joins a woman coming out of the bathroom.

I go back to James. The subs are gone. So are we, as soon as our drinks are finished.

Chapter 17

KATHRYN

Let me tell you about this past month.

The moment I walked out on Ian in that restaurant, frustrated, confused, and definitely heartbroken because he’s as dense as the ocean, I made the decision to sort out what it is I wanted before talking to him outside of work. The only way I could do that was by removing myself physically from the situation.

Could
not
remove myself emotionally, as I quickly found out the moment I stepped off the plane in Berlin and saw an airport attendant who looked a lot like Ian. Spoke German, but you know, doppelgangers aren’t going to be 100% the same.

I went into the nearest bathroom and fucking cried.

Wish I could tell you that I spent the whole fortnight visiting my mother. Telling her what’s going on. Getting hugs and jokes and some cookies from the local bakery. To be fair, there was a
stellar
shop on the corner of the street my mom’s townhouse is on. But I only got to visit it twice, because I stayed with her for four days. I was going to spend the whole trip there, but she largely ignored me and the neuroses of her housekeeper sent me screaming into the German streets.

So, I took my chances doing a bit of traveling. Berlin. Stockholm. London. I avoided Paris like the plague, even though I’ve usually enjoyed trips there, because of the baggage associated with the City of Romance. While on one hand I didn’t get to talk to people much outside of hotel hospitality, I did get a clean, shiny new environment to think about what it is I want from my life.

Being thousands of miles away from the man you love has all sorts of fucked up consequences on you. For one, well, you’re
away from the man you love.
You swear that you can feel his heart beating in bed with you… an ocean away. You think you hear his voice calling you from the bedroom when you’re in the shower. And you want to strangle every man calling a woman Catherine, Cat, or heaven forbid,
Katie.

On the other, having that distance allows you to stand back and take a hard look at your life choices.

They say you can’t help who you fall in love with. No matter your preferences, who you actively go looking for, or the kind of people you surround yourself with, you’re probably falling in love with the last person you expected.

Until a few months ago, I always assumed I would either marry a “normal” man, or a bedroom-sub. I don’t want a lifestyle Dom/sub relationship, on either end. I had fun during my stint with Ian wearing the collar almost 24/7, but that’s not for me in the long run. I can’t give up that kind of control for so long.

And that brings me here, standing in my apartment on Sunday night after returning to America. I saw Ian tonight. At the Dark Hour, when I went there with some of my old friends, all Dommes. It was fun being around my usual brethren again. I was reminded of the thrills, the fun, the passion we could instill in one another, especially when some male subs stopped by and entertained us with their witty tongues and promises of pleasure. Eva and I were the only ones who didn’t go home with one of them. Not Eva’s cup of tea, and I’m not sure if I’m still seeing Ian. It felt like cheating.

After seeing him? After hearing him call me his darling? I now wonder if it was wrong to ignore all the texts he sent me when I first left that restaurant.

I’m sure he’s thought of me as much as I’ve thought of him. I think of him as I pour myself an Old Fashioned, the drink I had when we made that bet. I think of him as I feed Sinéad, petting her soft fur and thanking God she’s over her kitten-diarrhea phase. I even think of Ian as I wash off my heavy makeup and let down my hair.

There were two things I walked away from Europe with. The first is that I absolutely, in at least some life-altering capacity, love Ian Mathers. I love our banter, how he challenges me, how he makes me laugh at the most unexpected times. His taste in movies is suspect, but it’s not about watching the movie itself. It’s about curling up in his hold, kissing his five-o-clock shadow, and reveling in his smart aftershave.

Thinking about those little things tells me again, as I get into the tub, that I love the bastard. I want more moments like those. I want to make love to him. I even want to… dare I say it…
submit
to him at times.

Ian has transformed me into the switch I never knew I could be. That much is true.

You know what else I want? Of course you know what I want. You’ve probably been yelling, no,
screaming
at me for weeks now. “Kathryn!” you’re yelling right now, getting ready to reach through whatever you’re reading this on. “Don’t you see? The only way you could be happy with any man, and not just a man like Ian, is if you get to show him who’s boss sometimes!”

That’s right. It’s not enough to spank a woman here and there for his titillation. I can’t live off him
knowing
I’m a Domme, let alone one who is exclusive to him and can’t take out her controlling frustrations on someone else. Listening to my Domme friends, watching them interact with subs, reminded me of how much I used to enjoy that.

My mind keeps going back to Ian. While he was training me, I was content to indulge in only my forbidden fantasies. Well, now I want to indulge in the really public ones. Push that man down. Tie his hands behind his back so he can’t get grabby. Take his cock to the edge and back. Ride his fucking face, feeling his stubble all over my pussy as I
inform that asshole
that I am the woman who commands his heart and loins.

That is the source of my frustration. My heartache.

Ian Mathers will never submit to me. I know it like I know I love him.

And now I’ve gotta go back to work. I have to look him in the eye, overcome my feelings for him, and tell him why we would never work.

I’m probably going to have to move after the ball next weekend. Fuck the museum. My dad can do it. I… won’t last another day around Ian. Even though I have to. For now.

Life, right?

***

I check myself in the bathroom mirror one last time before going out into the ballroom.

Blue dress I bought at The Crimson Dove? Check. Diamond clasps in my hair? Check. Minimum makeup with a smack of pink lipstick?
Check.

Oh, don’t forget your clutch on the bathroom sink, Kathryn!

I’m not the only woman in here. The women’s restroom in the main hall of the renovated Grand is stuffed with well-to-do women checking their hair and makeup, looking for panty lines beneath their dresses, and gabbing about their dates. While I see a lot of women from my social circles here, I also see some new faces. Rube-type girls trying to blend in with their lower-class dresses and heels that break with too much ease. Their language isn’t that great either.

I assume most of them are escorts, paid for by men who were in need of a date for the evening. The way they gather around one end of the sink and mutter about Johns… ahahaha.

There is one woman who pops up beside me, however, who is neither escort nor high society. She’s both.

“I was hoping I would see you here.” Judith, dressed in a sexy black number, black pumps, and with hair as big as her tall body, appears with a smile in the mirror. “I had heard you jetted out of the country.”

My lipstick almost falls into the sink. “You…”

“Am both working and having fun.” She winks. “My patron brought me as a date. Sorry. I’m unavailable tonight.”

She’s joking, but I can sense she’s intrigued by me. I should hope so. She only got half the usual effort in the Kathryn Special when I rubbed her clit and spanked her ass at the Château. Not a bad first run with a woman, if I do say so myself.

Something I pretty much did for Ian. I sigh.

“Was hoping to see you up in the mountains again. You and your charming boyfriend.”

I can’t tell if she’s making small talk or genuinely missing my touch. Is it the same way I miss Ian’s touch right now? I don’t know. Eva would know about lesbian sin better than me.

“He’s not really my boyfriend.” I lower my voice as two women walk by, leaving the bathroom. “We’re on break, anyway.”

“Aw. You’re a hot couple. Can only imagine what it’s like when a Dom and a Domme collide. More than sparks flying, right?”

“You could say that.”

“I am saying that.” Judith turns, leaning against the sink as she watches me pat down errant hairs on my scalp. “If you hadn’t kicked me out of my own room… well, only reason I let you do that is because y’all paid me such a nice tip to fuck on my bed. Was a shame to change those linens the next day. I had to sleep in a guest room.”

I’d feel for her plight, but I highly doubt Ian and I were hardly the only ones to ever do that. “Our relationship is complicated.”

“Totally! You know, it’s not nice to gossip behind someone’s back, but you two were the topic
du jour
for a few days around the place. Me and another girl got into a heated discussion about whether a Dom and a Domme could really have a functioning relationship. We figured they’d either have to be poly and get their kicks elsewhere, or be switches like the Andrews.”

She looks at me, waiting for me to confirm one or the other.

“I wish it were that simple.”

“Nothing about love and sex ever is, right?” Judith steps away, waving a hand in my direction. “I’ve gotta go. Ol’ man is waiting for me. Says something about wanting a dance while the night is still young. Try to enjoy yourself.”

The bathroom door swings shut, and I’m alone on my end of the sink. Before the silence can get to me, I grab my clutch and vacate.

The Grand has come a long way from the sheet-covered spectacle it was months ago. The Mathers and their subcontractors did an amazing job transforming it so quickly, and without compromising quality. That means they paid a hefty sum for it. I hope they had the funds to cover it.

Haha, who am I kidding? They’re richer than my family!

I’m rather late to the party, so people are already dancing and mingling. People dressed in the uniform the Mathers picked out for the employees make the rounds with trays full of champagne. I grab a glass and look for my father, currently talking to Dominic Mathers.

“What a fantastic display of ingenuity and historical accuracy,” my father says, cheeks flushed from too much champagne already. “I’m impressed you made it this far, and on such short notice.”

Dominic smiles, but there’s something hollow about it. Maybe he’s turning into his son, wherever he is.

Yeah, he’s turning into Ian. Because here comes Stephanie May, sashaying in a pearly-white gown and up-do.

“Kathryn,” she says, lips dripping with venom. “So nice to see you. I heard you went on a trip… I hope it was nice. That would explain why I haven’t made contact with you recently.”

Fuck her. She’s talking about the fact I haven’t paid her off this month. I would have arranged it while I was gone, but Caroline was insistent that she would “take care of it.” So far, nothing seems to have been taken care of.

“It’s nice seeing you too.” I turn to my father, avoiding both Stephanie and Dominic’s gaze. “Daddy, you should try the wine they have around here. I sampled the same brand in Germany, and it was divine.” Finally, I glance at Dominic, a sour smile on my face. “You have good taste, Mr. Mathers.”