Page 133 of The Dommes

That we’re one.

Kathleen clamps down on me until I’m finished groaning and my hips no longer move to their undulating dance. By that time, she’s nearly falling off my lap, opting to instead fall forward against my chest. I hold her in my arms, wanting to collapse with her in this stranger’s bed. We’re both a mess. We both need to clean up.

Why would we part, though? Aren’t she and I destined to be one?

Eventually, Kathleen coaxes me down, our tattered clothes showing how defiled we are as we curl up on top of this bed. She buries her nose in my chest, moving her legs off mine and groaning from the relief in her thighs. She says something about how good I fucked her, and I almost get aroused again.

Except I can’t. Reality is returning. Lights in my eyes. Fresh air in my nose. A world outside of “Katie and me.” That world where I thought… I love her.

I’m not someone afraid of my emotions. I always thought that if – when – I fall in love, I would go at it with gusto and act like a fucking champ. Apparently that is easier said than done, because now I’m lying here, Kathleen Allen wrapped around me and panting from the sex we just had. The love we just made.

Here we are, and all I can think is that I need to keep these thoughts to myself. Not only do I not want to scare her off, but I want to be absolutely sure before I expose my heart like that.

After all, there are a million reasons for us to never be together. I don’t want to tempt fate.

Chapter 48

Kathleen

Hi. I’m Kathleen Allen, billionaire through her rich-ass father and one of the hottest Dommes you’ve ever seen strut around a club.

And I’m currently handing out oral sex while parked on the side of a dirt road.

This was not Ira’s idea. In fact, I bet sex was the last thing on her mind as we pulled onto her family’s road and started making our way down the long mile between the highway and the main estate tucked back in the woods. However, she underestimated how nervous I am, and that apparently the only way I can feel better is if we pull over and have a quickie.

Ira leans her head against the window, releasing tight groans from her chest as I go down as quickly as I can without sacrificing quality. I’m a businesswoman. I know that you can only have up to two of quality, speed, and price. Since there is no money involved here, I’m fairly confident that I can give her a great experience to get us both through the day.

She grabs my shoulder, then my scalp, pushing me between her legs as she gets closer to orgasm. Because I already didn't doubt that my amazing skills are enough to make her come in her own car.

Meanwhile, her pants keeps getting in my way, and I swear if I lose traction again..

A groan takes me away from the concern. Ira searches for the back of my neck through my hair. I’m rubbing her more than I’m doing anything else, and that’s it, she’s gone.

Five minutes later, I’m sitting up in my seat, fixing my hair while Ira recoups in the driver’s seat. I remind her no fewer than two times that she doesn’t need to reciprocate. We don’t have time to hop in the backseat so she can fuck me with whatever, even though the thought of her mouth on me is getting me bothered enough. No, we’re running late as it is!

“Tell me again how that makes you feel less nervous?” Ira has one hand on the steering wheel, but we’re not going anywhere. “I mean, I feel great, but…”

“Shut up.” I attempt to reapply my nude lipstick. “Think of it as me acquiring a big enough power trip before we go into your house of haunted expectations.”

She snorts, but it’s in that “relieved and non-bothered” way that drives me nuts half the time. My own fault. I made her come. Again. “I’ve never heard a woman say handing out oral sex makes her powerful.”

“You rarely get eaten out by Dommes, last I checked.”

Within a few more minutes, Ira has finally fixed herself up, and we’re moving down the road toward the Mathison House.

I call it a house because, compared to what I’m used to, it really is a quaint abode. Thirty rooms at the most. Seven of those bedrooms. Who knows how many bathrooms. The styling is minimalistic, with only two Greek columns adorning the front. Flowers and shrubbery are the only things giving the place some life. It’s very… Mathison.

We pull up alongside my father’s car. How fantastic. He’s already here.

Even though Ira is with me, I hardly feel as if I have any power in this situation. That must be why I got so antsy when we turned down that road. All I can think about is wanting to go out, scream my head off, then make a mad dash back to the city. Now, if this were a normal lunch between our two families, that would be one thing. It isn’t.

It’s about us.

I haven’t spoken to my father about this at all. He’s been out of town for a while, and when we do speak, it’s about work and whether or not we’ve heard from Mother. Although I’m sure he has a million things to say to me about dating Ira, he’s saving them all. Or too embarrassed to ask.

You’ll never guess who’s there to meet us in the front hall.

“Ira! Kathleen!” Carolyn makes sure to give us an equal number of kisses. This is long before the butler can pop up and take our coats. The chill in this house is making my bare arms tremble. Ira wasn’t kidding when she said her father didn’t like wasting electricity. The dining room we’re ushered into likewise has minimal lighting, relying on the natural sunlight streaming through large, open windows.

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