A Dominant Man (58 page)

I feel the bed shift as he climbs in next to me. He scoots closer, spooning me, wrapping his well-defined arms about my torso. He culls me into his hard chest, pulling out my hairband, and buries his face into my hair. Still, he says nothing. He lies there with his face shoved in my sex-mussed strands, breathing steadily until his body relaxes into mine as he falls into an abysmal slumber, and I follow him willingly into the blackness.

I
wake abruptly to the violent shaking of the bed.
Earthquake
flashes through my mind, and I fly up, panicked, my heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. I’m about to jump out of bed when I hear Hunt’s urgent cries echoing into the pitch-black of the room. I spin around to discover him fighting his dream, limbs flailing fiercely about him. His jaw is clenched, and his hands clasp urgently to the sheets, body stiffened and torso bowed severely.

“Please, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…No, don’t. Stop! Stop!” He thrashes about, and I leap out of the bed. “Don’t. Please, I need you.”

He’s breathing heavily, and the moonlight reflects off a thick sheen of sweat blanketing his normally golden flesh.

“No…please. Don’t. Don’t leave me,” he begs.

I assume it’s another dream about his parents until he groans, “Elle, please stay…You can’t leave…I need you.”

“Hunt.” I shove his shoulder, but he’s deep in his nightmare.

“Angel,” he whispers in response, still asleep.

“Hunt, please wake up,” I cry, smacking his chest, but he won’t wake.

“I won’t…let you go. You’re mine,” he growls.

Since he won’t wake from the night terror, I change tactics and try calming him instead.

“I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Damian.”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head, eyes clamped tight as tears build around his lashes. “You left me…You’re gone.” His wounding words cut me to the bone. “I can’t.”

“What, Damian? You can’t what?”

“Live,” he murmurs. “Breathe.”

My heart stops. I’m paralyzed as I stare down at him, tears welling up in my eyes, and as if he senses the intensity of my piercing gaze, he shoots up. He is pale, green even, almost as green as his terror filled eyes scanning the room, searching the dark.

“Elle!” he cries.

I crawl onto the bed out of the shadows, kneeling beside him. He snatches me into him and lies us back down, resting me on his chest, hugging me to him as if I were a comforting security blanket.

I finally realize we’re naked when I feel his hot, moist flesh flush against mine. He must have undressed me before tucking us in. I listen to his heart and rapid, shallow breaths, but after a few moments of tickling him, he eases around me. I sigh, breathing in his nerve calming scent, and lax onto his hair speckled chest.

“You were having another nightmare.”

“Was I?”

“Yes,” I reply, nuzzling my head into his neck. “You were.”

“What did I divulge this time?”

“I…” I have reservations about telling him. I wouldn’t want it to upset him further. He would never get back to sleep. “I couldn’t make out what you were saying, but it didn’t sound good.”

He studies me carefully, examining every line of my telling face. He puckers his lips and cocks a brow.

“Bullshit, sweetheart, tell me now,” he orders.

“I left you. I broke your heart…Feel better?” I ask with a frown. “You were begging me not to leave you. You said I didn’t love you, didn’t want you.”

He breathes out a long sigh, shutting his eyes. When he opens them again, he appears torn, but oh so yummy.

“It’s only my fear of being away from you manifesting itself. I’m nervous about leaving you here.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen, and I’m not here to protect you.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I worry.”

“Really? You could’ve fooled me,” I tease.

. I rest my head on his chest while he runs his nimble fingers through my untidy strands. I trace a finger over his peck and around the nipple, which hardens under my touch.

He shuts his eyes and takes a couple drawn out breathes. I wait as he gathers himself, and once he has, he opens his tired, dark emerald eyes, watching me with a delicate crooked smile kinking the corner of his mouth up. I lean in to kiss the curve of his lip and lightly skim the tip of my nose across his face.

“Better?” I whisper, and he nods his head in a slow, trance like motion.

I kiss his cheek, my plump lips spreading across the stubble covered flesh, and I linger, holding them to him while I tickle his arms with soft, extended strides of my nails. He tilts his head back, raising his hips so his considerable, uncovered erection pulverizes my exposed knot of nerves. His shaft slips between my wet lips, his cock becoming slick with my essence. We moan appreciatively, as the friction of our bare, urging, connecting parts mill into one another.

He clasps his hungry hands onto my thighs and slides them up to my waist. He sits up, wrapping his arms about me, culling me close, and kissing me warmly. I return his embrace and open my mouth to allow him easy access to the slippery, pink tongue inside. He takes it between his lips and retracts, sucking gently to the pointed tip. I attack his mouth with a deep kiss, and he falls back onto the bed, bringing me with him. We fondle and claw at one another, yanking on hair and nipping at flesh.

He clasps his hands to my shoulders and lifts me away from him.

“I want you to turn around, facing away from me, then sit back on my waist with your legs spread and slightly bent. Clear?”

“Yes. Reverse cowgirl,” I reply, dismounting him.

He stacks a few large pillows behind him and leans back at an angle. I stand, turning away from his beautiful face, and set my left foot on the other side of his waist.

“Now this is a spectacular view,” he seductively comments.

I playfully glare down at him over my shoulder. He shoots me a huge, youthful grin, and I giggle.

I lower myself down and crouch above him, steadying myself on his thighs with my hands. As I’m about to complete my descent, the hard peak of his cock presses into my soaked opening, stretching me divinely. Once he’s aimed to enter me, I drop down onto him, packing me quickly. He roars out my name as the sudden sensation of total immersion seizes his body, arcing his back.

He clasps my waist, and I lean back, digging my heels into the mattress. My legs are bent, spread wide in an primal exhibition of carnal compulsion that leaves me feeling uninhibited with reckless abandon.

I lift myself off, keeping only his head tucked inside me, and come back onto him heavily. He digs his fingers into my sides and hauls me up, slamming be back down and stretching me wide. My head goes flying back as I cry out into the blackness of the room.

All I can see, feel, or think of is Hunt and his amazingly talented cock as I plummet back down onto it. He arches his back and bucks his hips, vaulting me back up. I meet his drives and lean my back against his toned chest and abs, tilting my head back onto his broad shoulder.

I use my planted feet and hands as leverage, and he rears his hips, unclasping his grasp on my waist, reaching around to cup my supple breasts into his palms. He roughly pinches the hard pink gumdrop nipples forcing my back to arc and wet grasp on his cock to tighten. He captures the fleshy lobe of my ear between his teeth and bites sharply, grunting a raspy, hedonistic cry.

I gyrate above him, wildly grinding into his hot, sweaty skin, slipping and sliding against him in a raw display of passion. I envelope myself in the primal urges of our bodies while I take him deep inside me, over and over, again and again, until I’m so wound up that I explode into the blackness of the night like a billion brilliant stars scattered across the evening sky, setting it ablaze.

He clasps back onto my hips as he spills into me with thick gushes of warm, liquefied satisfaction. I collapse against him, huffing and puffing, as the aftershocks of pleasure sweep over my weak, glistening form. He entwines his arms and legs with mine, merging me with him as our arousing, post-sex scent wafts about me. It doesn’t last long as he kisses the side of my face, uncoiling, and shifts me onto the mattress.

He rolls off the bed and saunters into the bathroom where he switches on the lights and turns on the water in the bathtub. I hear the gentle strums of an acoustic guitar complementing the rich, dreamy vocal styling’s of Lykke Li’s hypnotic ‘I Know Places’ echoing and drifting out.

He comes back out resplendently nude, the bathroom light shrouding his golden, rigid flesh, allowing me an opportunity to ogle and drool over the masterpiece that is Damian Hunt.

He strides over to me on the bed, scooping his arms under me, lifting and cradling me securely en route back to the massive, brightly lit bathroom, leading us out of the darkness into the light.

“I’m not done with you,” he purrs in my ear. “How about we take a nice, soothing bath?”

“Divine,” I reply.

He sets me down next to the partially filled, sunken Jacuzzi tub and grabs two white robes from a towel cabinet on the other end of the room. He brings them over and sets them on the immaculate white tile floor, level with the top of the tub.

I step into the hot, revitalizing water and slowly ease myself onto a built in seat opposite of the spewing faucet. I lean back into the slanted wall and sigh, settling into the welcoming caress of the water, which feels heavenly against my overly sensitive, sore flesh.

I shut my eyes and tilt my head back, allowing the water to soak every achingly raw inch, from my pleasantly battered ass to my thoroughly fucked slit.

I sigh and swish my arms sluggishly in the water, leaving trails of ripples in my wake, as the ends of my hair float about me in swirls. I sense Hunt standing over me, studying me attentively. I crack open an eye, glimpsing sassily up at him with a curve in the corner of my lips.

“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Hunt?”

“I’m just admiring the view.” He smirks crookedly.

“Well, stop admiring and get your cute ass in here.”

He chuckles lightly, amused. “Yes, Miss Gabrielle.”

I mockingly glare at him, and he smirks, shaking his head slowly.

He dims the lighting to a nearly muted level, lights a few candles, and pours a lavender scented bath oil into the tub before stepping in and sinking below the waterline. He dunks his head, turning his caramel brown hair into a rich chocolaty hue.

He emerges from the depths and runs his hands over his hair, forcing the excess water to spill out down his shoulders. I watch the drops of water drip off the tip of his nose and chin, the way it collects on his golden flesh, causing it to shimmer when the candlelight reflects off the pearls of beading water.

I observe every miniscule movement with curious beguilement, paralyzed by the sheer magnificence of this Adonis before me. I rest my head against the cold acrylic of the tub and shut my eyes. Suddenly, a moderate, bubbling pressure pummels my back and massages the knots deeply embedded into my aching muscles.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yes, exactly what I need.”

“Besides me of course.”

“Of course,” I reply, extending my foot out to his leg and caressing the calf.

“Are you happy…with us?”

I pop up, gazing with curious fear at his staid face.

“Beyond,” I reply with utter certainty. “Are you?”

“Extremely,” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, and continues. “I know these last few weeks have been strenuous.”

“That’s an understatement,” I interrupt with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, and he reaches forward, pinching my inner thigh. I return the gesture and pinch his sack with my toes. He jerks, raising a brow and casting a lopsided smirk, a mock warning. I cock a brow and grin at him as he slowly shakes his head and smirks back.

“If you can’t stand the heat…get out of the bathtub,” I provocatively state.

He chuckles, cupping his hands and dipping them into the water. He scoops up the clear liquid and brings his hands to his face, rubbing them over it and back through his hair.
Holy fucking shit.

“So as I was saying. These past few weeks have been nerve frazzling and trying, but I hope this evening’s events have changed that.”

“How so?”

“Well, I don’t intend on associating with my brother or sister, and I assume you won’t be seeing Mr. McQueen again. I know Mr. Cahill isn’t going anywhere, but I can deal with him.”

“Actually, I was going to call Walker tomorrow, when you were on your daytrip, to discuss this evening and his actions.”

“Gabrielle,” he utters, in such a way as to warn a child not to disobey.

“Damian,” I retort with the same tone.

“Why on god’s green earth would you want to speak to him?”

“Because I want to know why he behaved the way he did. I want an explanation for his actions, the paintings, antagonizing you. I want an apology for putting me in a compromising position, exhibiting my body and our most tender moments, allowing his friends, family, and complete strangers to ogle me in such a vulnerable position.” I rest my head against the white acrylic wall and shut my eyes.