Page 111 of The Dominator

“Who do you belong to, Athena?” His mouth was by my ear.

Fuck. Shit. My blood ran cold.

He moved back an inch or two and looked down at me. I looked up into his eyes and he looked so sexy, red fucking hot with lust.

“Who?” he demanded.

It felt like all the air left my lungs and then like something inside of me snapped, like an elastic band pulled too far.

“You,” I said and a huge weight vanished off my shoulders. Vanished.

Then it was like a bomb went off in that bathroom. He hiked me up onto the vanity and violently tore my underwear down my hips and off of me, and then he plunged his cock deep into me, one hand on my lower back and the other braced against the mirror. Bottles, hair tools, and cosmetics tumbled onto the floor and something splashed into the toilet. Something glass smashed. He didn’t stop. He didn’t take his eyes off mine. He was, clearly, completely thrilled with that declaration.

I wrapped my legs around him, dug my nails into his back, and he let out this primal sound, almost like a growl. He let go of the mirror and had a fistful of my hair in his hand. I squealed in both surprise and pain as desire surged through me.

He stopped and looked at me for a beat, breathless, then moved a few times in and out of me. I bit hard on my bottom lip, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

He lifted me and then we tumbled to the floor in the midst of curling and flat irons, hairbrushes, a broken glass bottle of facial cleanser, broken plastic blush case with chunks of blush powder all over the place, that he shoved aside. And then my legs were up and over his shoulders. As I pulled the prickly round hair brush out from under my lower back and tossed it out of the way, he started to pound the fuck out of me on that bathroom floor.

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded and that must’ve supremely pleased him as he didn’t.

He went harder, he went faster; he pounded and pounded. And I received every single connection of our bodies with a grateful grunt and nails that dug into his backside.

Suddenly, I was up and he was carrying me toward the bed. We didn’t make it. A few steps later, I was against the wall, impaled on him, my fingers in his hair. We were sweaty and grunting like wild animals and I knew I’d have crazy sex bruises and make-up smears all over my body tomorrow. So would he.

“Love you so fucking much,” he grunted.

I was drunk on him; he was my oxygen. He fucked me slow but hard, with power, against that wall and then moved us and put me on my back on the bed. He kept going, speeding up his thrusts and with so much force that there were veins popping on his neck and his forehead.

“Tommy,” I gasped.

He pulled out and got me on all fours on the bed. He put one hand around my throat and the fingers from the other got me by the clit. As he drove into me, he twisted his fingers around below until I was trying to crawl away to get away from the intensity of it, screaming out, and then I was hanging off the bed, my butt in the air, my nails clawing at the rug, him now holding my hip with one hand, circling my clit with his other, and fucking me hard. So hard.

I came hard, whimpering, “I love you, too.” as I cried out into the bed’s dust ruffle.

I told him I loved him? What the fuck?

I can’t believe I said that to him. I’d never said that to Nick, not to the few guys I’d dated before, either. Did I love him?

Did I?

I loved elements of him, but could I love all of him?

Was my emotional outburst really about being relieved that my experiment had seemed to bring about the result I’d hoped for, sort of, that even though it kind of backfired a little, that I’d pulled a reaction out of him that told me that maybe I could get and keep this under control? Me, in control, controlling the control freak by knowing how to handle him, what to give him.

Or was I so relieved that I could do this because I did love him? I loved the possibilities of being in love, the moments of sweet, the fierce protection he’d shown me. I didn’t know. I just didn’t fucking know.

He grunted my name and came inside of me, and we were both breathless. He pulled me back up onto the bed. Me on my belly, him laying on my back and then after a minute of kissing me all over my shoulders and the back of my neck, he rolled and took me with him so my back was against his front and kissed me on the earlobe.

“I love you, baby girl. You have no fucking clue how much. You mean everything to me. Everything.”

I glanced back at him and his eyes were closed, but there was this look of bliss on his face. Pure bliss. The look on his face crushed me, sent emotion through me that I’d never felt. I squirmed in tight against him, letting him comfort me and hold me. I closed my eyes and heard that poignant chorus in my mind.

I… don’t wanna fall in love… with you.

But I was pretty sure it was too late. He had me. Fucked up as it was, I’d fallen. And it might very well be the demise of me.

I woke up to see Tia sitting in a chair, staring out the window. She was wrapped in the thick hotel robe, her knees up against her chest and her hands around a steaming mug. She was blowing into the cup but staring out the window, looking deep in thought.

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