A Dominant Man (26 page)

“Do they hurt?”

“No, they’re a little sore, nothing painful.”

He doesn’t appea
r convinced. He rises, his thick cock hanging out the opening of his jeans as I glisten off him. He’s stunning with his sweaty skin and hard muscles flexing from his recent release. My inextinguishable desire reignites into a raging inferno. I want more.

“More,” I purr as I gaze at him from under my lashes.

He gives me a cum-worthy, teeth baring grin. “What have I done? I’ve created a sex fiend.”

I bite at the corner of my mouth and stare seductively, his only warning before I lunge myself at him. Hunt catches me, and we tumble back onto the bed, vehemently kissing. We can’t get enough of one another.

I’m on top, straddling him. The head of his still hard cock rubs along my drenched sex, hitting my overly sensitive clit, sending electrifying surges of pleasure everywhere. They cause my urges for him to intensify, which I didn’t think was possible.

I move my hips, positioning him to take me. I sink back, watching his eyes close and mouth go slack. The look of pleasure lightly brushes over his face as I take my time sliding to the base, cradling him inside me.

“What are you doing?” he asks, gazing at me through hooded lids.

“Making you mine.”

He clasps my waist as I take the lead, fucking him until he comes veraciously crying out my name.

M
y limp, weak, achy body lies motionless on his chest, his arms cuddling me into him.

“This is my favorite part. I’ve never cuddled with anyone before.” I hear his husky voice vibrate in his chest. It relaxes me, makes me feel safe.

“I second that,” I breathe. “You never cuddled with any of the girls or the cradle robber?”

“No,
I never wanted to. You know I don’t allow a woman to take control of sex, but it was surprisingly enjoyable with you.”

“Oh yeah! I rocked your world!” I gloat with a goofy grin, and he chuckles.

“To the core, Gabrielle.”

He strokes his l
ong fingers gently along my back. “I forgot my trainer will be here at eight to do a workout before the trip. Would you like to meet him and watch me a bit? If you want to join me or do your own thing, there should be workout clothes for you in the closet. Not as if you need it. I like your curves the way they are.”

“Nice save, slick. I knew the name was fitting.”

“It’s the truth, but it never hurts to take care of yourself. I want you around for a long time.”

“
I’m not one for sweating unless it involves you naked and in me.” I haul myself up off his chest to straddle and gaze down at him. He’s made to be under me. “I think you work me out pretty hard.”

His hands creep up my thighs, the curve of my waist, tender breasts, neck, and face. I bring his palm to my lips and kiss it.

“I’m definitely digging this view,” he remarks in a gentle voice, softness caressing his face.

“I was thinking the same thing.” I lift a leg, dismounting him, and stroll to the closet to get ready.

“This view is just as good,” he remarks.

I wiggle my butt at him as I disappear into our closet.
Weird.
I choose a black sports bra and matching spandex pants.

“Maybe you should put a shirt on over that. By maybe, I mean absolutely.” He’s standing stark naked in the doorway.

“Relax, it’s not that bad. It’s certainly better than a bikini.”

“You’re not wearing those
, either.”

“Damian, please. Let’s not do this. I’m yours so who cares if I show a little skin. It belongs to you
, along with everything they can’t see.”

“Your t
its are hardly contained by your ‘top’. They’re too prominent to be hanging out like that.”

“Now you’re complaining about the size of my girls? You weren’
t bitching earlier when your face was buried in them.”

“That’s different. They’re mine. Put a shirt on, Gabrielle,” he orders through compact lips.

“Fine!” I grab a spaghetti strap tee that doesn’t cover much more of my stomach or breasts. “Better?” I ask with a petulant tone.

I stomp out of the suddenly crowded space. As I stride past him, I shove my shoulder into his arm, jerking him slightly, and reply, “That’ll do,
you pig.”

“Damn it, Gabrielle! Get back here!” he summons, exasperated.

He can call out all he wants. I’m not turning around. He can kiss my fat ass.

I need to relieve the stress
from his controlling line of attack. I’m not one of his many subs, or slaves, or whatever the fuck they were. I wonder what type of women they are, what his relationship with them was like.

I jog downstairs to the gym to blow off some steam and clear my head of demanding Hunt. I switch on the lights, illuminating the huge space. They seem extremely bright
, reflecting off the mirrors lining each wall. I scan the room, noting the treadmills, stationary bikes, and weight-training machines. A large red mat lies in the middle of the room with a life-size punching bag and gloves sitting at the far end of it.

I decide to warm up and get the pulse pumping by taking a few whacks at the bag. I locate the touchscreen on the wall next to it and turn on
some music to get me going. Skimming through the music lists, I spy with my little eye a playlist marked, GABRIELLE’S SONGS. I open it to discover my iPod loaded into his system. I’m not in the mood to think of how he got it. I select ‘I Love It’ by Icona Pop. It has a great beat, amping me up.

I wrap my hands with tape and put on gloves. I imagine the bag is Hunt, and I’m going to teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.

DON’T FUCK WITH ME!

I whale on the bag, throwing arms and legs into my immobile opponent. I focus on the music as I thra
sh at the Damian sized bag. It doesn’t take long for sweat to form on my brow and upper lip. Thoughts of his dominating needs keep breaking through the concentration I’m trying to maintain, but my mind is now on the argument.

What is Hunt’s issue? Why does he care what I wear? Why does he think he can tell me how I can and can’t dress? Why does he feel the need to control everything?
I shove the bag as if it were him, and my attention is interrupted by a man’s surprised voice.

“Oh. Hello.”

I turn and off I go. I fly back as the heavy speeding bag slams into me, and I’m down for the count.

BAG 1,
ELLIE 0.

“Shit!” The young male who startled me comes running to my side. “Are you ok, miss?”

“Yeah, it probably looked worse than it was.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the dummy who took my attention off a swinging bag. I’m ok, seriously.”

He helps me up and steadies me with one hand on my back and the other cupping an elbow. He’s close to my age with brown hair and dark blue eyes
. He’s a tad shorter than Hunt but just as muscular and cut.

“What happened?”

We find Damian at the door in black basketball shorts, sneakers, and no shirt.
Bastard plays dirty
. His cold eyes dart between the violently swinging bag and us.

“I was helping her up after the bag swung into her, Mr. Hunt.”

“You can release her, Kevin.” He lets go hastily and takes a step back while I glare at Damian.

“He was trying to help me. There is no need to be rude.” He glares back at me with furious eyes, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I face Kevin and extend a hand out to him. “Gabrielle, the annoyed girlfriend, but you can call me Ellie.”

He gives me a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Ellie, I’m Kevin, the fired trainer.” We both laugh, but Hunt, not as amused, stands there like a statue.

“I won’t keep you two. I’ll be at the bag trying to win back a little dignity. Can’t let the bag think it’s won.”

I wink at Kevin, then stick my tongue out and glower at Hunt.

I go back to boxing, attempting to ignore him
. He changes the music to a Metal band to amp him up. I love the song, but I can’t remember what it’s called. I would ask Hunt, but I refuse to say anything, being that would result in me acknowledging his presence. I glance at the screen and it reads, ‘Stop!’ by Jane’s Addiction.

Damian
bores his eyes into me, never breaking away, as if trying to force me to look at him through sheer will.

I notice Kevin is super cute, seems kind and funny. Maybe I should see if he’s single for
Jules or Sloan.

I watch as they warm up,
stretching and running on the treadmill for about twenty minutes, then head for the mat. When I peek in the mirror, they’re wrapping their hands in tape and taking off their shoes. They start with punching and blocking techniques then incorporate kicks. Hunt is fast. His arms and legs are blurs as he tries to pummel poor Kevin, but he’s doing an amazing job of blocking.

“Go!” Damian yells, and Kevin fights back with the same power, attacking Hunt with everything he has. Their limbs are flashes of tan flesh as they go at each other with brute force. I stop to watch the aggression of their match with wonderment and intrigue.

Damian looks hot as he moves with speed and animalistic agility, using calculated counter attacks while Kevin goes for the throat. Now I’m mad at myself for being turned on by his half-naked, flawless body, sweaty and taut. It attacks with speed and strength. His shorts ride low showing off the happy trail traveling down to that damn lick-worthy V. I don’t know what’s fueling me, arousal, anger, the music, maybe all, but I want to kick some serious butt.

“I want a go!” I blurt out.

“What?!” Damian shouts back with a hand to his ear, as I swagger over to them on the mat.

“I want a go, old man!”

His lips purse and sweaty brow furrows as he thinks about it. “Fine. Kevin, will you…”

“No! You! I want you, Grandpa,” I interrupt.

Kevin appears nervous, as if he’s never seen Hunt challenged before.

“You want a piece
, sweetheart? I’m all fucking yours.”

I kick off my shoes, stretch, and meet him back on the mat.

“Ready?” I ask with a gleam in my eye and a teasing, omniscient grin. I’m ready to show him how rough I can be.

“Whenever you are, cupcake,” he replies, antagonizing,
taunting me with an amused smirk, and it only fuels my desire to knock him a good one. I go in with an upper cut, and he blocks it using his forearm, then I go for his side, but he blocks that, too.

As the anger on my face grows, his smile only gets bigger, and I whale at him harder. I kick at his hip, and he bounces back, my foot catching only air. I charge after him pissed as hell, and he’s laughing like a kid, a young man having fun with his girlfriend. I can’t help but laugh, too, as I chase him around like an idiot trying to whack him.

“Get back here so I can hit you!” I complain.

“I don’t think I want you to. You’ve got quite a punch.”

“This isn’t fair!”

He halts in front of me. “Alright, one last try, princess.” He puts
his hands up near his face, leaving his stomach and groin open. I pretend to go in for a dick shot, and when he tries to protect his precious manhood, I punch him in the stomach then cheek. He goes down hard.

“Oh my god!” I kneel at his side and rub his hair as he blinks and regains full consciousness. When he does, he gawks up at me with astonishment.

“I’m so sorry, slick. I don’t know what came over me.”

He chuckles and puts his hands over his face. “Damn, I would never go up against you. You’re vicious.”

Kevin turns off the blaring music.

“I really am sorry.”

He places a hand on my face and caresses it with his thumb.

“Where did you learn that?”

“Caleb taught me after the incident with you-know-who.”

“I’m grateful to him for that. I should get him a ridiculously extravagant bottle of wine or a house, whichever.” He props himself on his elbows, and I lean in to kiss him.

“I’m going to leave you guys to train. Can we talk after you’re done?”

“I would like that, babe.”

I
kick off my shoes and lie on the bed next to my packed bags, punching Chase’s number in my speed dial.

“Hey, Ellie, what’s going on?”
Chase sounds sad.

“Hey, you. A lot. What’s new in your neck of the woods?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Not a whole hell of a lot. I’m glad you finally called. How’s Mr. Rich Boss Man, still wonderful?”

“Cut it out…Yeah, I guess. I wanted to talk to you about something, get your advice.”

“Shoot.”

“He’s
a complicated, generous, controlling, stubborn, witty, very broken man, and I think I love him.”

There’s silence at the other end of the phone
.