Page 15 of The Club

“Serve.” Dominic practically grinds the word out.

Dominic’s steak is delivered, then the waiter sets a plate of scallops in front of me. I can work with that, but I’ll need a different wine.

“Chablis, please,” I say.

The waiter nods and vanishes with my red wine and Nicole’s abandoned glass.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dominic asks quietly.

“Saving you from boredom. You should’ve seen your face.”

“My face is the last thing you’re going to see.”

“Your fun room or mine?”

His eyes harden. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do believe you, Dominic.”

He studies me, expecting me to laugh. When he sees that I’m serious, he frowns.

The waiter returns with a glass of pale golden wine to me to approve, which I do. Like everything here, it’s irreproachable.

I cut into the tender scallops. Dominic doesn’t touch his steak. It annoys me.

“Why were you putting yourself through that?” I ask. “What was the point?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Were you going to fuck her?Canyou?”

I thought he was still before, but my words turn him to absolute stone. I wait for him to get up and thrown his napkin on the table like Nicole did.

Instead, his eyes narrow and he asks, “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Yes. You bruised my face. But I wore purple, so you could still enjoy me in the color.”

I take a bite of the delicate, delicious scallops.

“Rafael.”

I look up at the heavy intonation of my name. Dominic’s weighted gaze locks me in place even before he says, “Don’t ever cover up what I do to you.”

We stare at each other across the table for a long moment. Then he frees me from his gaze when he picks up his knife and fork and cuts into his steak. A shudder goes through my body, rocking me so hard that I bump into the table. My cock twitches in the lacy front of my g-string. My hole clenches on nothing. God, I need him there.

I watch him eat with impeccable manners, fascinated by the veneer of civility over his raw, violent masculinity. His knife goes through his steak like butter, but his jaw still works visibly on the tender meat. My eyes watch his throat as he swallows.

He picks up his wine. Eyes flicking to me over the rim of it, he says in a dark, commanding voice, “Eat, Rafael.”

I obey him. I think I would obey anything he said in that voice.

“Are you always that careless?” he asks as we eat.

“No.”

Dominic cuts into the rose shape of his potatoes. I think of the tattooed roses on my body and wonder if he would cut into them too.

Dominic’s eyes narrow. “But you were just going to leave that mess?”

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