CHAPTER 3

I woke up to the city lights streaming in through strangely large windows. My head hurt and my body throbbed in places I did not even understand. I panicked for a second, wondering what exactly had happened to me in my dreams. Until it all came back to me and my brain tried to put together the pieces of the night before.

The deal, it wasn't a dream. I real, I was here, in Dominic Blackwell's penthouse. In his bed.

Panic seized me and I jumped out of bed, searching for my clothes. But before I could make a move, a calm but commanding voice stopped me.

"Relax."

I was frozen. Dominic was leaning in the doorway, shirtless, his broad shoulders accentuated by the dim light. He didn't look like a man who needed permission. He looked like a man who felt like he owned the room. Owned me.

"This is your home now, no need to freak out" he stated matter of factly and nodded towards the bedside table. "Breakfast is at ten and training starts shortly after."

"Training?" I stuttered. "I… I don't…"

"You agreed to be here," he cut in, taking a sip of coffee. "You signed even when you didn't have any experience. If you have to pleasure me, you have to know how to."

"But…"

"But nothing. You're mine and mine does as I say."

The words were supposed to have frightened me. They were supposed to have sent me running, maybe screaming through the elevator and out into the cold city but instead, a peculiar heat rose in my belly. Desire? Thrill? I wasn't sure. But one thing I was sure of was that I wanted to be here. 

I dashed into the closet and dressed, digging through the clothes he'd neatly laid out on the chair. Every item of clothing carried the faintest whiff of him, leather, soap, something richer I couldn't place. My hands lingered on the material longer than they should have and my mind began making things up that caused my dick to protest. I shook my head.

“Focus! Get your head in the game!” I yelled. 

……….

Breakfast was strained and quiet. Dominic watched me like a hawk, he noticed my hands quiver as I tried to get a grip on the cup, noticed my hesitation and stared like I was some alien. But he did not scold me. He simply said things were different now and my first lesson would be table manners, how to eat, where to sit, how to talk in polite society.

I resented it immediately. The way he corrected my posture, pulled my tie tight and even instructed me on how to hold a fork as if it were a martial arts tool felt like total intrusion. And I felt like I was stripped of some tiny bit of dignity with each command.

And still… the powerful aura about him had my heart pounding in ways I couldn't manage. My body betrayed me, flushing warm and tightening when his hand brushed mine.  I tried to hide it, but the heat that spread through me wasn't having any of it.  

“Relax your shoulders,” he said softly, brushing along my neck. My breath hitched. “Confidence, Ethan. Even if you don’t feel it, act like you do.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice uneasy. Why am I trembling?

He took me to his office after breakfast.  It was surrounded by tall shelves made of fine dark wood. The carpet was thick and soft and the city lights flowed over the floors. Without taking his eyes off mine, he pressed a button and the bookshelf rotated round and round and then just opened up. Behind it was a door. He pressed another button and the door clicked open.

He stepped in, and I immediately mirrored his actions. I didn't need to be told. In the dim light, all I could see was a normal room with a king's side bed and drawers. Why did he have a room at the back of his bookshelf?

"Kneel." He barked, suddenly breaking into my thoughts.

The single word cut through me like I was hit with a whip. My pride screamed inside me and I stiffened.

"What if I don't…"

"You will." He simply cut me, voice rough with authority.

I fought against the urge to obey, to fall in line, seize back some kind of control. But my body was faster than my brain. I dropped to my knees, heart racing, belly clenching with shame and fire.

Dominic crouched slightly, hand moving through my hair. He was warm, possessive and tender in a way that made my pulse skyrocket. “Good,” he murmured. “You’re learning.”

Heat seeped through my groin, and I was afraid but strangely excited. I hated myself for it. He circled around me slowly, each step very deliberate. 

"Posture," he said, tracing his fingers along my shoulder blades. "Your back is too stiff. Confidence starts here." He slid his hand down my back, and I shook violently.

"You're mine," he breathed, mouth on my ear. "And anything I have is always perfect."

Dominic came closer, dark shadows following him, his presence occupying every corner of the room. His fingers weren't soft when they touched me, they were calloused. Fingers dug into my chest, traveled down, probing, demanding and each one a searing touch.

I hated the hitch of my breath and the way my body involuntarily leaned in to him. Every touch of his skin against mine sent a shiver down my spine, heat unfurling low and burning.

"Look at you," he whispered, his lips tracing the edges of my face, his breath burning my skin. "Already shaking."

“I’m not…” My protest broke off with a strangled sound as his hand slid down, palm skimming over the bulge straining against my jeans. My knees almost buckled.

Dominic’s laugh was soft, cruel. “Not what? Not hard for me? Not desperate?” His thumb pressed against me, just enough pressure to make me choke back a moan.

God, I was shaking. I held my fists tight, nails digging into my palms, but my hips betrayed me, thrusting forward into his hands like it was begging.

"You're mine," he snarled, his teeth raking the rim of my neck. “With each moan, with each orgasm… mine."

My chest was heaving. I felt like spitting in his face, pushing him away, but I couldn't. I was struggling with anger and a hunger I didn't know how to break.

 

And then, when I thought the action was finally going to happen, he stepped back. Cold air swept into the space where his body had recently occupied. My breath was uneven and my dick hard and aching against the jean and this man stepped back?

Dominic's face never changed from that dark, self satisfied grin as he raised his hand and pressed a button on the wall. The gentle click was as loud as a gunshot and the door behind me slid open. 

My head snapped toward it, shock beating through the haze. "What the fuck …"

"Go," he said to me softly, lounging back with maddening calm. "And close the door."

I gazed at him, stunned, my whole body aching and on fire. "You… are you serious?"

His eyes traveled over me, lingering on the betraying swell trapped against my jeans. His tongue dragged across my lower lip, slow and deliberate. "Dead serious."

Anger and humiliation choked my throat. He had drawn me in, taken me to the edge and was now casting me aside like trash.

"You're a bloody bastard," I growled, my voice harsh, ripped apart with longing.

Dominic's eyebrow went up, and he regarded me as if I were some new toy. That smile grew, ruthless and unyielding.

"This is going to be a lot of fun," he said, low, deadly, and promising.

The words seared hotter than his fingers. And yet, although I hated him for it, some part of me burned for him.