A Dominant Man (9 page)

“I’m not fucking innocent. I am anything but. I’ve been through things most people wouldn’t understand. I am not a weak little thing that can’t take care of herself. I’m tired of you telling me I am a good girl, a nice girl,” I huff and roll my eyes. “How can you tell me I can’t handle you? You don’t know what I’m like in bed.”

My tone’s snippy, but I soften it and glide my forefinger over his lips. “You haven’t even tried me out yet. Don’t you want to experience how naughty I can be?” I remark, biting on my lower lip.

I can tell it affects him because his eyes shoot down to mine, and he licks his lips. I feel his arousal pressing against my rear while his hands grip to me aggressively.

“I don’t need to try you out. I’ll enjoy you immensely. You can learn a lot about a woman’s bedroom abilities by how she dances.” His lips set in a razor-sharp line. “I desire a specific way of doing things in the bedroom. I don’t do gentle or tender. I like it…rough. I like to fuck. I’m going to fuck you. I need to know you want this. I need to know you’re not agreeing because it’s what I want. Now I ask you. Do you want to be mine?”

A consuming rush surges through me at the thought of him going at me like a virile animal. I clench everywhere, the idea taking me over.

“Yes, I want this. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more,” I pant.

“I want to hear you say it,” he growls emphatically.

“I want to be yours. I’m yours, Damian.”

He comes down on my lips with a fury. He snatches me up into his arms, passionately kissing me as if we’re in an epic, classic love story. I wrap my arms around his torso, mashin
g his hard body against mine, deepening our lip-lock. I break away, and he tries to come in for more, but I place my hand on his chest.

“I need something from you before we do this.”

“What do you need, babe?”

The endearment catches me off guard.

“I need you to apologize for the other day. That’s why I refused to call or email. I have a problem being told what to do. I need your respect. I won’t go to bed with you without it.”

“I won’t apologize.
I’m not wrong for being suspicious of Mr. Cahill’s intentions. The boy has affections for you, and I disapprove of you placing yourself in a position for an incident to occur between the two of you. When alcohol and hidden emotions mix, the combination is volatile, especially if one party doesn’t feel the same. I don’t trust him. He’ll try his chances with you. It’s only a matter of time.”

I feel my blood boil and
skin burn, taking on a bright red shade. My body stiffens, and my jaw clenches tight. I sit up, glaring at him.

“You stubborn ass! First, you hurt me, and then you refuse to apologize for it? What
kind of piece of shit doesn’t apologize for hurting a person?”

He stares at me with the same ten
se face and rigid body language, shield up, prepared for battle.

“I
am
sorry I hurt you, but you want me to apologize for what I said, not how I made you feel. I’m not sorry for what I said. I told you my feelings on the matter.”

“You need to leave. I made a mistake by accepting your offer. I want you to go.”

He looks anguished, stunned. “Gabrielle, I…”

“I said leave,” I interrupt, clipped, and leap off his lap, hauling ass for the door,
which I aggressively swing wide-open.

He gawks
, bewildered, then slowly rises off the couch and saunters over to me. As he’s exiting, he pauses and says, “I’m truly disappointed we didn’t work out. I want to be with you.” He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. “Goodbye, Gabrielle.”

“I am, too. Goodbye, Damian.”

He exits, and I slam the door behind him. I’m enraged, anguished, and totally confused. I want to run after him, tell him I want him, too. However, he can’t tell me what to do, hurt me, and not apologize. That is completely disrespectful.

I stomp off to my bedroom to get ready for bed. I take a short shower, going over the evening in my head. The water ru
shes down my skin, hydrating me, as I contemplate what just happened and what we could’ve been. I break down, crying good and ugly, letting the water wash my tears down the drain. I’m still hysterically crying into my pillow when I fall asleep.

T
he morning light bathes me in its warm rays. I glimpse at the clock with blurry vision and manage to focus on the digital blue numbers. It’s seven fifty, and I didn’t get one wink of sleep. Everything on me is weak and fatigued. I lie there, remembering last night, and my heart begins to ache. The tears burn the back of my eyes as I fight to keep them in, but I envision the shattered expression on his face, and they come flooding out like a waterfall. I wish last night went differently, maybe then I would be waking up in his inviting arms rather than to a cold, empty space beside me. I haul myself out of bed, scuffling off to the kitchen to brew coffee and prepare breakfast.

I
sip on my coffee while picking out a cream blouse with a black peter pan collar, black wide-leg trousers, and black pointed toe calf boots. I’m not in the mood for cheery colors, not when I feel like someone just died…well, um…besides the cocksucker.

I grab a ho
memade muffin from the kitchen then my black pea coat and purse from the table near the front door. I inhale one deep breath, and I’m out of the house by eight forty-five.

I stroll toward work with my headphones in, listening to a sensuous burlesque style number on repeat. A poignant ballad, evoking the same intensity and sensuality that emanates
from Hunt, by the incomparable Lana Del Rey called ‘Million Dollar Man’.

Her sultry, aloof cooing is hypnotic, and her lyrics suit Hunt flawlessly. Her melodies are the soundtrack to my darkest fant
asies. She’s perfect for a lift or to feel inspired, which I desperately need, considering I want to return home and hide under the covers.

I drown out the rest of the world, putting myself in a place of focus. I’m doing a decent job of ignoring when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn to discover
Chase with two coffees in hand from my favorite place, La Boulange. I pluck out my ear buds to hear him say, “Hey, thought you could use this.”

He hands over a cup and chocolate croissant, which they’re famous for, and takes a good look at me. “Damn, you look like shit. What the he
ll happened to you?”

I give him an unchanged straight face, my mouth down at the corners. I take a bite of my yummy croissant and moan in delight. It’s like an orgasm for your mouth.

“I saw Hunt last night, and when we were heading to the bedroom, I asked him for an apology, but he wouldn’t give me one. I asked him to leave, and he did. I’ve been a wreck ever since.”

Chase
has an oh-shit look. “Yeah? What the fuck? Asshole.”

“My sentiments exactly,” I reply grimly.

“Are you going to call him?”

“I don’t think so. I told him I made a mistake in accepting his offer, and we said our goodbyes. I don’t think I’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, except when we move into the new building, then you’ll probably run into him every day.”

“Oh, shit! I forgot. Great, why did I mess with him? Once I found out he was my boss
, I should’ve run screaming in the opposite direction.”

“At least you didn’t sleep with him. I’m sure it would be a lot harder then. You still have your self-respect.”

“I am relieved I can keep my head high knowing I didn’t give myself to him.”

Deep down though I wish I had. I still want him desperately. I wish I had felt his lips, his body on mine, and now I will never know how he feels inside me, his intimate touch. I cringe at the thought and concentrate on
Chase instead of the torturing notion. We turn the corner to work, and I ask, “I have a really hectic workload today. Can we grab drinks after work?”

“Of course
we can.”

“Good. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“My parents are hosting another charity gala this Saturday, and I don’t want to attend it alone. Elizabeth will set me up with every eligible man there. Will you please be my date?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure my lady.” Chase bows down, and I curtsy. We chuckle quietly.

“Great, we
can discuss the details later.”

We stroll into the building, and I wave to
Kat as we head back into the office. When we reach his, we say our goodbyes and go grind out our days. I arrive at my desk and notice Olivia is on the phone, talking with a brash tone to the person on the other end.

I stow my things and boot up my computer. I check my emails, finding one from my mom. When I open it, there’s a message and a link to
a website. Her message is short and sweet.

From:
Elizabeth Hyde

T
o:
Gabrielle Hyde

Received
:
Wed, Jan 23, 2014 at 8:45 AM

S
ubject:
Worth a thousand words

Look what I found! That’s my girl.

Oh, jeez.
Damian’s words ring in my head.

I click on the link, and there we are, a photo of us walking to get lunch, holding hands, foolish grins on our faces. It makes me angry, looking at the stupid girl acting happy as if she has any clue. The caption under the photo reads.

The elusive billionaire p
layboy, Damian Hunt, spotted about town with flavor of the month, Gabrielle Hyde, heiress to the Hyde Estate. Ms. Hyde, best known for her wild partying behavior during her infamous college years, seems to have matured into quite a woman, catching the eye of the world’s most desired magnate.

Shit, Shitty, shit. Shit!

I close the link and go back to work. I type out the notes from last week’s meeting and file them under DH meeting notes. I work on
some letters I need to mail out before noon, finishing them with time to spare, I decide to sneak another peek at the photo of us. I notice there’s a new posting and click on it. It’s an article with a few photos. The headline reads.

Damian Hunt, Busy Ladies Man.

There’s a photo of him at dinner with Olivia! Her back was to the camera, but I recognize her hot pink dress and long chocolate hair. Damian has a sexy grin on his face, playfully twisting his wine glass around by the stem.

Son of a bitch! Yeah, he seemed real tortured.

The next picture, he’s leaving my Art Deco building late last night. His face looks nothing like the others. It’s sullen and angry.
He knew what he did.
Tears begin to well up in my already red eyes, and I close the link quickly.

The rest of the day crawls by, even though I’m submerged in work, catching up on projects I put off the past few days. It takes everything I have to keep anything Hunt out of my day. I force myself not to call him. On top of all that,
Olivia has been in a shitty mood all day. I realized why when I saw the pictures of them. She must’ve seen the pictures of Hunt and me together.

Great! Another thing I fuc
ked up by involving myself with this complicated man. I didn’t even get a night of unbridled, all-consuming passion for the trouble.

W
hen five comes around, I am so exhausted I can barely make it out of my chair. A poor night of sleep, and an emotionally overwhelming day will do that to you. Chase comes toddling around the corner looking fresh and happy. “Hey. Thought I’d walk you home, since it’s on my way to a friend’s place.”

“This friend wouldn’t happen to be a female would it?”

“Yes, my friend’s a girl, and we’re going to have a good old kinky time tonight.”

“Yikes. TMI.” I hold my hands to my ears. “Nasty.”

“Yeah, well, you asked.”

“I asked if your friend’s a chick, not about your planned hump-fest.”

“Yeah right, like you didn’t want to know, fishing around for her sex.”

I give him as big a smile as I can muster, but I don’t think my mouth curves much.

“Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed. You look beat down. I’m sorry he did this to you.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry.”

W
e arrive back at my place,
though I’m not too sure how. I think he propped me up and guided me there. He comes up with me, to ensure I don’t collapse from my dead weight, and opens my door with his spare key. I gave one to him after a particularly life-threatening incident. I wanted to know he could get to me whenever he needed to, like now for instance. He is my protector, come to give me shelter from a cold world.

He scoops me up in his arms and carries me into the apartment. My head is lying on his chest
, rolling to and fro with every firm step.