Before We Fall

“Hell,” Kira sighs. “Ignore it, Dom. It’s not your problem. We’re not done here.”



I sigh too, because I know I can’t ignore it.



This has been happening way too much. People come here and get wasted and out of control. It’s not worth the trouble, but Sin keeps having the parties anyway. He says it keeps him relevant, whatever the fuck that means. I don’t seem to have a problem with being relevant, and I don’t host a single party.



I shake Kira’s grip off of my wrist, gulp down the rest of my drink, and head down the stairs, ignoring her calls of protest.



It takes a minute to weave discreetly through the masses of people scattered through the house and to make my way across the lawn and onto the stones leading to the pool. But I reach the couple within two minutes, and without even pausing I grab the guy from behind, ripping him backward. He hisses as the girl’s teeth scrape his dick.



It serves him right. The fucker interrupted me.



He yelps and I toss him on the ground, watching in satisfaction as he scrapes his face on the stone bricks before he rolls into the lawn.



“Get the fuck out,” I snap at him. “No one gets forced against their will here.”



“That bitch wanted it,” he protests as he climbs to his feet. “She was asking for it.”



I shake my head. “The last time I checked, no means no. It’s not a new way of asking for it. Get the fuck out of here.”



The guy looks at me again, recognizes who I am, and then stalks away without another word. I grab a pool towel and wrap it around the girl’s shoulders.



Her skimpy uniform, which was barely there in the first place, is hanging around her waist now, apparently ripped in their scuffle. She seems self-conscious, but honestly, I barely notice. She’s young and has perky tits, but so do thousands of other women. She doesn’t do much for me. Mostly because I know she’d offer herself on a platter if I wanted her to. I briefly consider inviting her to join Kira and me, but don’t. She’s drunk, and even if she’s too drunk to remember it, she’s just been almost violated.



“You okay?” I ask gruffly. She nods, sniveling, just as another girl, a gorgeous blonde in a matching uniform, rushes up.



“Holy shit, Kaylie. What the hell happened?”



The blonde is obviously alarmed, concerned, and while Kaylie explains about the asshole, I turn to disappear back into the shadows. Regardless of my profession, I try to stay out of the spotlight when the cameras aren’t rolling. Unfortunately, I only make it partway before Kaylie grabs my arm, then wraps herself around my waist.



“Thank you,” she tells me shakily, her arms like thin bands, not giving me room to even squirm. I stare down at her, looking past her tear-smeared eyeliner to look into her panicky eyes.



“It’s not a problem. But you need to stay out of situations like that. There won’t always be someone to step in and save you.”



From her shocked expression, I decide that I might’ve been a little too hard on her. But shit. Women have to be more careful. She can’t parade around in barely any clothes, have rough sex with a stranger, and just expect him to be a gentleman. Men, by and large, aren’t gentlemen. We’re assholes.



Kaylie stares at me, too drunk or high to even respond. But her friend isn’t so silent.



Big brown eyes snap at me angrily. “Why are you lecturing her? She was just assaulted, in case you didn’t notice.”



I roll my eyes.



“Is that what you call it? She was having rough sex with that asshole right out in the open. When she was supposed to be working, I might add. It looked to me like it was an incident that just got out of control. I stopped it for her. You’re welcome.”



Gorgeous Blonde stares at me dumbfounded. “Are you trying to insinuate that she’s not a victim, that it was her fault this happened?”



I sigh. “Of course not. I’m saying that she shouldn’t have been encouraging a drunk stranger to be rough with her in the first place. Good night.”



I start to walk away, but apparently she’s not done.



“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demands. “You might not have heard, but you really shouldn’t blame the victim.”



“I’m not blaming—” I begin, but I’m interrupted by her gasp as I step fully into the light and she sees my face.



“Holy shit.” She breathes. “You’re Dominic fucking Kinkaide.”



I can’t help but smile, just a little, just enough to pull the corners of my mouth up. “Dominic will do. I tend to drop the ‘fucking.’ Unless of course, I’m actually fucking.”



She smiles a breathtaking smile that should affect me. The girl is stacked, has legs that go on for miles, and she’s wearing next to nothing. She should affect me. But she doesn’t. Because nothing affects me anymore. I’m jaded as fuck.



“I’ve heard you’re trouble,” she announces matter-of-factly, eyeing me up and down with a slow gaze and fire in her eyes. “That’s lucky, because I happen to like trouble.”



“I bet you do,” I answer back, trying to ignore the way she’s acting now that she knows who I am. They all act like this. Every one of them. It gets monotonous. Just once, can’t someone surprise me? “Nice to meet you.”



I turn around and walk back toward the house, but she takes two steps and grabs my arm. I pause.



“But you didn’t,” she says hesitantly, a bit unsure now. “You didn’t meet me. My name’s Jacey.”



I sigh. “Your name doesn’t matter.”



I keep walking, ignoring the way she sucks her breath in, the way she calls after me in agitation, the way she gives up and stops in defeat.



I might be an asshole, but I don’t lie.



Her name doesn’t matter.



Not to me.



I leave the entire situation behind, out of my sight and out of my mind. Within a few minutes, I’m standing in front of Kira again.



“All taken care of?” she purrs, reaching for me. I nod, burying my face between her heavy, naked tits as she unbuckles my belt. “Bind my hands with this, and come on my face.”



She doesn’t have to ask me twice.



“You’re such a dirty girl,” I whisper in her ear as I push her onto the couch and bind her hands above her head, just tight enough for the leather to bite into her flesh. Just the way she likes it.



And then I grasp my dick in my hand and fuck my fist, just the way I like it.



For just a second, for some strange reason, the blonde chick’s face pops into my mind, her eyes wide and brown. I have no idea why, but I shake my head to clear it. I focus instead on the matter at hand.



Within another two minutes, I come on Kira’s face, spurting in a cream-colored arc that spatters onto her tanned skin. She licks a drop from her lips and grins at me.



“Welcome home, lover.”



“Don’t call me that.” I shake my head as I pull my jeans back on and collapse next to her. She rolls her eyes.



“Why? It’s what we are. You always come back to me, Dom. You know that.”



I unbind the belt wordlessly, tossing it onto the floor. I might always come back to her whenever I come home, but I don’t fuck her. Not really. I haven’t actually fucked someone in years.



“Lover would indicate that I bury my dick in your sweet pussy.” I glance at her, then reach out to run my finger over the swell of one of her tits, then trail it downward to her crotch. She arches toward my touch. “And you know I won’t do that.”



I pull my hand away abruptly and Kira scowls. “Yeah, I know that. What I don’t know is why. Dominic, you’ve got needs too. Watching other people fuck or jacking off and coming on my face can’t be enough. Sex isn’t just sex, Dom. You need all the good stuff that comes along with it.”



“Oh, I do, do I?” I ask, amused now. “Like what? Like having women get attached and hoping that I’ll marry them? Or worrying that I’ll get some fucking disease or…”



“Just stop.” Kira interrupts me with a glare. “I know you, Dom. I know why you do what you do. You don’t want to get close to someone again. You don’t want to give anyone that kind of power over you. But Dom… it’s time. It’s time for you to finally get over her and come back to life.”



“One, don’t talk about her.” I instruct Kira icily, staring at her hard. “You know better than that. And two, are you insinuating that I’m not living?”



Kira sighs as she pulls her shirt on, forgoing her bra. She stuffs it into her purse and glances up at me.



“You know damn well what I’m insinuating. You’ve been a shell for six years, Dom. Six fucking years. That’s a long time. I’ve been patient. I’ve done everything you needed. But there comes a time when a girl needs to be fucked. I’ve got needs, Dominic.”



I have to chuckle now at the idea that I’m the only one Kira’s depending on for her “needs.” “Oh, yeah. Because you don’t have anyone else to fulfill your needs when I’m not here?”



She glares at me. “You’re a dick sometimes. I’ve got to work early in the morning, so I’ve gotta go. Call me tomorrow, okay?”



I nod even though I know I won’t. I bury my face into the couch cushions, realizing I’m suddenly exhausted and just want to sleep. I don’t even hear Kira leave. But I do hear when someone else comes in a few minutes later, right when I’m ready to slip into sleep.



“Dom, what the fuck? You were supposed to pull me out of the game so that I didn’t lose my shirt.”



I reluctantly open one eye to stare at my brother and find that he actually lost his shirt. He’s standing in front of me bare-chested. My eyes dip down and I cringe.



He lost his pants, too.



“What the hell, Sin? Put some fucking clothes on.”



My brother grins—that cocky, rakish grin that his fans love so much—as he plops himself down onto the sofa next to me, buck-ass naked, crossing his feet at the ankle on the coffee table.



“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if you’d pulled me out of the poker game like I asked you to.” He shrugs, picking up my glass of whiskey and drinking it all. “Those drunk chicks know how to play poker. Or I just wanted to take my clothes off. One or the other.”



I glare at him. “I couldn’t bail you out because I was taking care of a situation for you. Fuck, man. You’ve got to stop having these parties. Someone’s gonna get raped or killed and they’re going to sue the shit out of you.”



Sin only grins, unconcerned. “If they’re dead, they can’t sue me.”



I can’t argue with that logic. Instead, I tell him what he missed, not that it bothers him much. He sees it all the time.



“Thanks for fixing it,” he tells me casually, as though near-rapes are normal. I roll my eyes.



“Anytime. Now can you get some fucking clothes on?”



He waggles his dark eyebrows. “Sure. If it makes you insecure to look at my package. Not only am I older, but I’m also bigger, and that’s what counts.”

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