The Art of Domination (37 page)

“The police are going to question me?”

“Of course they are. You just tell them everything that happened and you’ll be fine. By the way, what exactly did happen?”

Why
does he have to ask about this? I sit up on the opposite side of bed and play with my I.V. tubing, hoping Dylan will drop the subject.

“Isabel,
I’m waiting.”

Here we go with Dominant Dylan, again.
I hear myself sigh loudly. “I already told you. He tried to…” I trail off, not wanting to say the “R” word. “He was touching me and hitting me and… and saying horrible things. He called me ‘love’ and said he would pretend to be you while he… It was disgusting and horrible. He tasted me. God, Dylan. Don’t make me say anymore,” I say as I start to sniff back tears thinking of the horrendous ordeal.

Dylan’
s whole body tenses up and his breathing quickens.

“He tasted you?”

Why did I tell him that?
  Now he’s angry. “I tried to stop him. I promise. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m not blaming you, Isa. From your injuries, anyone can clearly see that you put up a fight. Please,
tell me everything,” he prompts. He touches my hair and rubs circles on my back, trying to coax the words out of me.

“I almost gave up and let him do it. I just wanted to hide in myself like when I was a little girl. I almost did
, too. I started to float away, but I stopped myself. I thought only of you, sugar. I thought you were dead, but I still thought only of you. I let him get comfortable between my legs and then I squeezed them together with everything that I had. I did it. I stopped him.” I say, turning around and wrapping my arms around Dylan.

“Yes, you did, love. You did it. You’re alive and that’s all that matters.” His voice cracks with his words.

“
We’re
alive, Dylan.
We
survived.”

Dylan being the manly man that he is, clears his throat and acts as if he hasn’t just shed a few tears.

“You should see this,” he says getting off the bed.

He brings over three different newspapers and
lays them out for me to see. My and Dylan’s picture are on all three with dramatic headlines. There’s even a picture of me being carted off on the ambulance.

“Nice, huh?” Dylan is obviously
annoyed as he flips through the pages.

“Will it always be like this for us?”

He shrugs. “On the upside, the exposure should draw mad attention to your gallery show. Our PR people are both loving and hating it right now,” he says wiggling his eyebrows up and down like a crazy businessman.

“Don’t you mean
your
PR people? When is my show, anyway?”

“In about a week
. It’s the only time it could be rescheduled. Now that we’re married, my PR people are now
our
PR people. You might as well get used to it.”

“
I’ll never get used to that. At least I have a few more days to paint one more image. When can we leave?”

“Why the rush?
You need your rest. We’ll stay here a couple of more days while I get something straightened out and then we can go home,” he says mysteriously.

“I can rest at home.” I pout
.
I hate hospitals.
The one and only time I was ever at one was when I was 16.

I see him uncomfortably shifting his arm in the sling and I’m struck with guilt for what I’ve done to him. I sit up and touch his face and looks at me bemused.

“Dylan, I’m so sorry for doing this to you. I thought you were…
someone else
. It was dark and I had a bad dream. I thought you were… oh, Dylan… I feel horrible.”

He pulls me close to him and I bury my face in his neck. I inhale d
eeply, taking in his clean Dylan scent.

“I love you so much
. I would never hurt you intentionally. Please tell me you forgive me.” I beg him as I kiss his neck and nibble on his earlobe.

“
I know you didn’t mean it. I’m fine. Really, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“This week has been so horrible. Please tell me it’ll get better. I hate drama.”

“You and I both, love.”

The last three days have been a combination of peaceful and irritating. There have been several reporters camped out in the lobby of the hospital, waiting for me and Isa’s departure. She still looks a wreck, but she’s healing quite rapidly, surprisingly. I commented on her having vampire genes and she thought that was very funny.  She told me it makes perfect sense since she likes the taste of my blood.

I’ve been itching to get into her panties, but I don’t want to rush things. She just went through something God awful and I can’t imagine her wanting to have sex after nearly being raped.

After her barrage of questions from the police two days in a row, I wanted to pamper her a bit so I had a hair stylist and someone from a local salon make a visit to us here. We both got haircuts and she looks outstanding in her new shorter hairdo. I wasn’t keen on her cutting it, but I have to admit, I love it. It makes her curls perk right up and she looks like a little doll.

She forced me to get a pedicure like herself. I felt God damned ridiculous sitting there with my feet in a basin and having some stranger primp and play with my toes. That shit’s just not manly.
No doubt Sawyer will never let me live it down. Isa quite enjoyed her mani and pedi, though.

I’ve got just about everything ready for when we get back to Denver and I can hardly wait for Isa’s reaction to her surprise. It’s been a lot of effort and Sawyer
and Raul worked their asses off to get it done. Our accounts have taken a backseat the last week and I dread going back into work and seeing what shit storms I have to deal with.

I’m deep in thought about work and about getting us out of the hospital quietly and unseen when I feel Isa’s hands in my new short hair.

“I wish you would’ve left it a little longer.”

“I hate it long. It kept getting in the way.”

“But you look so yummy with it hanging in your eyes,” she whines.

“I don’t need
to look yummy when I’m at work,” I tell her, pulling her into my lap. She bumps my shoulder and I cringe from the pain.

“Sorry, sugar.
Maybe you should put the sling back on.”

“No. That thing is more of a pain in the ass than it helps.”

“Is there going to be a permanent scar?”

“Probably,
” I tell her.

She looks distressed and pouts her bottom lip out. I lean into her
and suck on it and she presses her mouth back into mine. She parts her lips and I slip my tongue in.

“Mmm, Dylan…” she breathes into my mouth
as she circles her tongue around inside.  She nibbles my bottom lip and I feel my erection building. She pulls back away from me and looks down at my lap and grinds her bottom into me.

“I feel that.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I want it,”
she answers with half closed eyes. She looks needy and damned sexy.

“Oh, do you?”

‘Dylan, it’s been so long. It feels like a lifetime. We’ve never gone more than a few days without having sex and I don’t think I can take this much longer. Can’t we just leave right now? I’m sick of these four walls and I want you inside of me.”

She pushes her mouth on
to mine again and kisses me madly, deeply and passionately.
Hot damn, I love her greedy little mouth on me.
She tastes like a fucking angel.

“Are you sure you’re up to having sex?”
I ask cautiously, not wanting her to feel obligated.

“I can see you’re up to it.” She smiles devilishly.

“I’m serious, Isabel. After everything that’s happened…”

“Don’t do that Dylan. I don’t need your pity. I need your throbbing cock inside of me. It’ll be
the best form of therapy, trust me,” she breathes with luminous glossy eyes.

She definitely has a way with words.

“I just want to forget about everything that went down and the only thing that can make that happen is for you to fuck me hard, sugar.
Hard,”
she politely informs me with her languid fuck-me-eyes.

Jesus Christ. This dirty lit
tle thing is my wife. Hell yes, I’ll fuck her hard.

“I’ve created a monster,
” I tell her.

“Yes, you have. Now feed the beast.”

She gets off my lap and kneels between my legs and starts rubbing my hard-on. I grab her hand mid rub and chastise her.

“Stop that, Isabel. T
here are people coming in and out of this room. You can wait a bit longer.”

“N
o, I can’t. I want it,” She demands as she stands up and narrows her eyes at me.

“Get the rest of your things together and I’ll call Carson to get the jet warmed up.”

Her eyes round and she looks animated. “Thank you!”

We get our things together
quickly and Murphy stays behind to grab our bags. A nurse helps us out the back entrance to avoid the photographers. Unfortunately, there’s a stray reporter waiting for us and he lunges forward to start asking questions. Isa looks shocked at the reporter’s aggressive nature and the flashing camera in her face. Thinking of my public image, I grab her hand and stop to answer a few questions.

“Is it true, Mrs. Young that you
were the one who shot Dylan? Are you aware that people are saying you tried to kill him for his money because he didn’t make you sign a prenuptial agreement?” the reporter asks, leaving Isa speechless. 

Isa’s jaw drops open she looks like a swoll
en deer in headlights.  I attempt to pull her away from the reporter, irritated at his audacity.

“That
’s enough,” I say, shooting him a look of fuck-off, but he persists.

“Tell us; w
hat was going through your mind when you pulled the trigger?”

“It was an accident. I thought I w
as shooting was my father…” Isa whispers in her defense.

“Your father? Why would you want to shoot your father,
Mrs. Young?” the reporter asks, looking both shocked and pleased with Isa’s answer.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I pull her hand hard, swinging her around in front of me and pushing her towards the vehicle. Murphy has caught up to us and pushes the reporter and photographer aside as we climb into the truck.

We speed off quickly. I’m
seething mad that Isa didn’t keep her mouth shut. I’m sure her words will be twisted and turned into something scandalous. I turn to look at her and reprimand her, but she has the same deer in headlights look on her face and my anger dissipates.

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out,” s
he answers before I can say anything.

I sigh
loudly and shake my head at her.

“He had just accused me trying to kill you for your money. A
re people really saying that?” she asks with tears in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what people a
re saying. You just need to remember to not answer any questions about our personal life. I know it can be difficult when they get in your face like that and make wild accusations, but these people are looking for something outrageous to put in their God damned papers.”

“I’m sorry,” s
he whispers and turns to look out the window.

I put my hand over hers and squeeze, trying to console her.

“I never even thought about a prenuptial agreement. I guess maybe we shouldn’t have rushed in to getting married so soon.”

She’s still looking out the window and I hear the sorrow in her words.

“Don’t say that. I don’t regret anything, Isa. I never would’ve asked you to sign one anyway. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t give a shit what people think.”

She looks at me incredulously. “If that were really true, you never would’ve given in to Erika’s demands.”

“I didn’t give into her demands, remember? Not wanting people to know about my sex life doesn’t mean that I care what people think. It just means that they should mind their own fucking business.” I tell her defensively.

“Are you angry with me?” s
he asks, watching me carefully.

“No. I’m angry at that God damned repo
rter for being such a dickhole.”

Isa looks
surprised. “Dickhole?” she asks smiling.

“You heard me.”

“I want to see your dickhole, Sir,” she says licking her lips.

“Jesus, Isa. I seriously think it’s too soon for us to be talking about having sex after what happened. I want you to talk to your counselor first.”

Isa’s joy turns to frustration and she rolls her eyes at me. “What if I say no?” she pouts.