Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (72 page)

“Oh, I didn’t select that. Ian did.”

“Of course he did.”

“If you see that bugger, let him know he needs to dance with someone before I throw Stephanie into his arms.”

“Oh, Dommie, you needn’t be so awkward.”

Everyone except Stephanie is stiffening, and she’s playing up the image of her and Ian in case I missed it.

Yes, honey, I’m jealous.

And annoyed that Dominic is not-so-subtly suggesting I dance with Ian. A man I haven’t touched since we last fucked.

I see him out of the corner of my eye, weaving in and out of people, servers, and reporters. He stops to kiss an elderly woman’s hand and to compliment her husband. He pulls aside a server and informs her that there’s a run in her tights. He steals multiple glances in my direction, probably shitting himself over me talking to Dominic and Stephanie.

Time to make my escape.

My salvation is in the form of Eva, who is here because I begged her to be, and because her family is here, checking out their investments. She’s talking to her brother Henry when I appear, offering her a glass of champagne I stole off a tray and asking if she would like to sample some hors-d'oeuvres.

“I’d like to sample the clams around here, if you know what I mean.” She’s eyeballing a woman in a green dress as we stand next to a wall. The orchestra finishes a piece and begins another, creating a scuffle of people in the middle of the ballroom as they leave, find new partners, or decide to have “just one more.” In a way, it reminds me of the gala I went to twelve years ago, where Ian Mathers and Kathryn Alison first charged into a relationship from hell.

A dozen years in the making, folks!

“Try to contain yourself. This is a family affair,” I joke, wishing I got more champagne. What this party needs is harder booze.

“Oh, whatever. Like you’re faring much better than me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I see all your favorite people here. In fact…” She tips her drink up, motioning beyond my body. “Here comes your ultimate favorite.”

“Evangeline.” Ian stands a mere few inches behind me, nodding to the both of us, acting like he’s all business. “You look nice.”

She glances down at her suit. “This old thing? Clearance rack at Kohl’s.”

“Cute.”

Eva downs the rest of her champagne. “That’s my middle name. Evangeline Cute Warren. Anyway… what the hell do you want?”

“Not you, surely.” Ian turns to me, and I can smell that cologne he was wearing the last time we made love. The time before that. Before
that.
“I came by to ask Kathryn to dance.”

I pretend that we have no romantic history. It’s the only way I can look him in the eye and channel the old Kathryn who would be tempted to rip his balls off and present them on one of the champagne trays running around.

“Your father was telling me that you need to dance with someone. I guess it’s because you’re young and single.”

Boom. Right in the fucking gut. Yeah, I can play dirty.

Yet his expression only flinches. Not the change I was hoping for. “I heard the same thing from your father. Funny, that.”

Either Ian is lying or my father has some explaining to do.

Regardless, some man landed on my shit-list yet again.

“And why would I dance with you?” I keep my champagne glass to my lips, letting it act as a buffer between us. Get any closer, Ian, and I might touch you.

It’s not like… I don’t
want
to touch you…

It’s a terrible idea.

“You would dance with me because it’s not something you get to do every day. Meanwhile…” he jerks his thumb in Eva’s direction. “You can talk to her anytime you want.”

“Not true. I’m in grad school.”

“All right, whenever she feels like fucking off from class. Which is every day, I’m guessing.”

“Speaking of fucking off, Mathers, isn’t that what you should be doing?”

God, listen to us. A bunch of high school children standing in front of the lockers and acting like this is the most important moments of our lives. I’d blame these two immature imbeciles, but I’m not helping the situation any. In fact, my indecision is making things worse.

“All right.” I hand Eva my half-empty glass. I’m sure she’ll finish it off for me. “One dance, with enough room for Jesus, as Mrs. Caruthers in high school would have said.”

“History?”

“Biology,” Ian corrects my friend. “Mrs. Caruthers was an odd choice for a biology teacher, let’s say.”

“You two need Jesus, that’s for sure.” Eva stalks off with two glasses in her hands. “I want the full report of how many times you called God tonight. And five Hail Marys for every time you feel bad about it.”

Once she’s gone, I snort.

“How about it, Ms. Alison?” Ian extends an open hand to me. “Dance? The good news is that the song is probably half over by now. Though it’s hard to tell with orchestras. Ever hear a five-minute cello solo?”

“Yes.” I take his hand. It’s warm. A warm reminder of what he can do to me with that hand. “There was one during that night at the symphony, remember?”

Ian leads me away, my hand still in his. “No. I was distracted by other things.”

Yes, like my mouth on your cock. You know what I remember the most from that night, Ian?

Surrendering myself to you for the first time. The first time without screaming, anyway.

His lips touch my knuckles when we reach the center of the ballroom. Couples are spinning, dipping, and laughing all around us. Under any other circumstance, this could be a whimsical time.

Naturally, he leads. Because he’s a man. Because he’s a Dom, and even as a Domme, I must defer to his lead.

It’s a petty thing to cling to. I’ve been feeling pretty petty lately.

“We haven’t had much chance to talk since you’ve been back.” Ian keeps a respectful distance between us as we turn on the dance floor. Other couples are dancing closer than we are. “Tell me all about Europe.”

My hand squeezes in his, and I chock it up to the movements of the dance as opposed to him trying to be forward. Or is it me initiating this contact? Sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Europe was fine. Rainy in London, but when isn’t it?”

“London? I thought you went to Germany to see your mother.”

“I did… for as long as I could bear it.” I briefly tell him about my mother waking up “hating everything” and throwing her bedspread from her second floor balcony and onto the street for “the urchins to pick up.”

“Yikes.”

“Yes, that was the day I decided to fly to Stockholm.”

“Private?”

“Commercial.”

“Yikes, again.”

I shrug. As long as I fly First Class, commercial airlines don’t bother me all that much. I only spring for private when I really feel like it or are taking people with me. Since this was a solo trip, even sans Anita, I opted for some headphones and my tablet to keep me preoccupied as I went from Berlin to Stockholm and then Stockholm to London.

“What was in Sweden? Ah, let me guess.” His hand detaches from my shoulder and brushes against my hair. “Family?”

“You’re assuming that because I’m pale and blond that I’m Scandinavian.”

“Would I be wrong?”

“Not too far off.” We are, in fact, Swedish on my paternal grandmother’s side. That’s why I first had an interest in Sweden, but not why I went this time. When I was in college I studied abroad for a semester and wanted to see the old sights again. Talk to some friends. See what was going on in that part of the world. “You know what they say about
assumptions,
Mr. Mathers.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, They make an ass out of you.”

“I’m not sure that’s quite how it goes.”

My foot doesn’t turn fast enough, my heel catching and threatening to take me down. Ian clenches me closer to him, hand pressing against the small of my back. My chest is pressed against his. Some people are staring.

“I missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

Jolts of electricity explode within me, reaching my extremities, filling my loins with desire for him. You think I don’t remember what it’s like to feel him in my grasp, breathing hard, resisting the urge to kiss me. I don’t doubt for a second that he’s sincere. I bet he did miss me, like I missed him.

We love each other, after all.

It breaks my heart. What is so wrong with two people falling in love? Making love? Literally the only thing holding us back is…

“I missed you too.” Reason is losing out to my wants. Now that I feel him against me again, all I can think about is bringing his lips to mine and getting lost in the back of his throat. I haven’t kissed him in over a month. I want his hands on me. I want his lips to kiss every speck of skin on my body. I want… I want…

Damnit, all I want is him!

“Come on.” I step back, taking his hand long enough to give him an idea. “Ten minutes.”

A man like him needs longer than that. A woman like me knows how to have a quickie.

Chapter 18

KATHRYN

There aren’t many places to hide during a ball boasting hundreds of guests, but this is a large hotel. A large hotel with a lot of clean closets and empty conference rooms, like the one we barge into, locking the door behind us.

I barely have time to find the conference table before Ian has me on top of it, his kiss so powerful that I’m melting beneath the weight of his body.

We’re a couple of famished bastards as zippers fall, skirts raise, and more than one hand searches for a forbidden place untouched in over a month. A month probably doesn’t sound like a lot to you. Before, it didn’t sound like a long time to me either. A woman in need of a man’s touch knows how to get by until she can secure it again, but that’s a woman who isn’t in love.

Because I need this man’s specific touch. I need the way Ian knows my body, what I like, what I
desire.
Only he knows how to touch me in ways I never thought possible before. Only he knows my precarious line between being dominated and taking control.

Like right now, when he thrusts into me, his satisfied grunt telling me how much he wants me, and how much he loves me.

“Katie…” No matter how many times I hear it, or how many times he says it, I still feel renewed every time that name enters my ear. It’s like being welcomed home by the lover you’ve had for decades. With him inside of me at the same time, thrusting enough to get me wetter and then completely take me? Oh my God, I am going to die.

I say his name, desperately, letting him know how much I’ve loved and missed him as well. This is so stupid. This is so dangerous. This is the last thing we should be doing, but I can’t help myself. I need this man in me, on me, whispering his sweet nothings as he fucks me, like I need air to breathe. Because what’s the point of breathing if I’m not sharing those breaths with him?

Being away for a month affirmed how much I love him. But I… I…

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes as we fall into a steady rhythm. I love this man. I love him so much that I had to drag him back here after one embrace. The idea of being without him like this again shatters my heart until I don’t even recognize it anymore.

The tears come, however, because no matter how good this feels, I know it won’t last.

“I love you.” The words sound so pathetic coming from me. I’m hiccupping with every moan, Ian’s ability to pin me to this table otherworldly. And yet I’m afraid saying these words. “Don’t leave me, Ian.”

His movements still, hands on my cheeks as he brings my face forward for a kiss. Even though his tongue slips along mine, he still manages to say, “You’re the one who left me, darling.”

I touch him back, clinging to his jacket and holding him fast inside me. I don’t want to let him go. “Come in me.”

Here I am, Kathryn Alison, a big, strong Domme who is sloppily in love with a Dom and pleading to know what it’s like to have him come inside me again. The Kathryn I am now and the Kathryn who went to him that first night seem like completely different people.

When he moves within me again, I forget everything.

I forget everything about him that annoys me. His arrogance, the way he nonchalantly takes control of everything and assumes he can take what he wants, how he wants to submit to me but won’t…

I forget. I force myself to forget, and I naturally forget. My life is nothing but Ian Mathers making love to me and how good it feels.

I want this.

God,
do I want this!

“Katie!’ He pushes me down onto the table, spreading my legs open, driving inside me, pinning me, pounding me, pressuring me to meet his great and mighty need for what we’re doing. It’s hard for us to kiss at this angle, but I don’t care. I can look into his eyes in this darkness, at the wild mien bearing down upon me and begging me…
begging me…
to feel the same way about him that he does me.