Before We Fall

“You love this. Yes or no?” I ask raggedly. Because watching her powerless beneath me, blindfolded and restrained and unable to do anything but orgasm, turns me on. I’m rock hard now and I stroke myself with my left hand, even as I finger her with my right.



“Yes,” she ekes out. “Fuck me, Dominic.”



“No,” I answer firmly. “Not yet. Some pain is good, Princess.”



“But I want to feel you fuck me,” she murmurs, arching upward, trying to touch me as best as she can. In answer, I turn both of my hands on her, fucking her with several fingers with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other until finally, she screams my name, then falls limply against the sheets.



She breathes quickly and shallowly, her delicate body curved into the bed. I stand, pull my clothes on, then untie her hands and feet. I leave her blindfold on.



“You loved that. Yes or no?”



“Yes,” she says quickly, remaining motionless on the bed, even though she’s no longer restrained. With one hand, she reaches over and finds my rock hard cock. “You loved it, too. Yes or no?”



“Yes,” I say with a smile, before I stand up again. “I’ll see you soon.” And I walk from the room and I don’t look back.



This is what I do.



I don’t get attached.



I don’t get involved.



But I think about the look on her face when she was coming, the open and innocent expression, and I smile.



I don’t realize it until I’m in my car and I glance into my rearview mirror and find that my lips are curved up ever so slightly. It’s such a foreign expression that it startles me.



And then it shames me.



I shouldn’t be happy about anything concerning Jacey. Because once I’m through with her, there won’t be anything left to smile about.



There never is.



Chapter Fourteen



Jacey



My phone buzzes in my pocket, and from the way Dominic is looking at me from across the gym, I know it’s a text from him. My stomach flutters, and I take a break from stacking clean towels so I can pull out my phone.



You want to fuck me. Yes or No?



A thrill runs through me and I smile. I can’t help it. I glance up at him and find him staring at me with that look, the dark look that makes my heart pound. The one that makes me want him even when I’ve sworn to myself that I don’t.



I shake my head at him, even though it’s a lie. And he knows it’s a lie because he laughs, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he turns back to holding a bag for Tig.



I sigh, picking back up the towels.



It’s been two days since Dominic tied me to my bed.



When he walked out, I’d been astounded for two minutes, then all I could do was laugh. His penchant for being detached is becoming a pattern, and it’s something I have to get used to if I want to continue with this… whatever this is.



But definitely whatever this is, it’s fascinating.



It’s exciting.



Dominic fucking Kinkaide was in my bed. We didn’t exactly have sex, but it was just as intimate, at least to me.



Out of curiosity, I did a search for him online, to find out if he does this often… if he leaves behind a string of crushed hearts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much.



He doesn’t date a lot, although he’s been linked to a couple of starlets, including Amy Ashby. He doesn’t have any scandal around him… he’s kept his nose clean. And there’s not one thing mentioned about Emma, whoever she is.



His publicity team must be very good.



Or he’s actually as detached and distant as he pretends to be.



After these last two days of flirting and texting, two days of not progressing into anything else, I’m starting to think that’s the case. He’s actually that detached. He does things that pleasure him, but he doesn’t get involved.



It’s like… he flips a switch when he starts thinking that he’s getting too personal, and then he shuts down. I don’t get why he does it, but it seems more and more to be the case. And if I want to continue our “relationship,” I’ve got to accept it.



Because honestly, even though he’s got some drawbacks, he’s got a lot of pluses too…



I like his intensity.



I like his sexiness.



I like him. I can’t help it. There’s more to him than he wants me to know… than he wants anyone to know. It fascinates me. Every once in a while, there’s something in his eyes… something that says he’s vulnerable. He covers it up, but it makes me want to get close to him. To know him.



But I know he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to get close to anyone. There’s very few people I actually care about.



There’s a pang in my heart as I stack another row of towels and remember his words.



I know myself well enough to know that if I were in this for real, for a real relationship, someone like Dominic would never be good for me. Because of my own issues, I need more than he can offer. I need someone who would be an active participant in my life, someone who would make me feel important, like a priority.



But I’m not in this to get close to him, I remind myself. This isn’t a real relationship. I’m in this because it’s fun. I’m not getting used. I’m just entertaining myself. Soon, he’ll go back to Hollywood and I won’t see him again… unless it’s on the movie screen. But it’ll be fun for now. It’ll be a cool story someday.



I turn back around and meet Dominic’s gaze. He’s got his phone in his hand again and a dark look in his eye. He’s tall, slim, and cool in the middle of all of the surrounding sweat and heat and grime.



My phone buzzes.



Don’t you need to put those extra towels somewhere?



My eyes meet his again. He knows that I do. And he knows where.



Buzz.



Go.



He stands watching me, confident that I’ll run to the supply closet and wait for him. But I don’t. Maintaining eye contact, I slowly and purposefully stack the leftover towels on the floor next to the rack. I look back up at him and his lip twitches.



Buzz.



I glance at my phone.



You get three chances. This is your second. Go.



I square my shoulders and stare at him. Who the hell does he think he is? He thinks he can just tell me to go and I’ll run? Whatever. I’m only controlled when I want to be, like when I let him tie my hands in the bedroom. That was different.



I saunter away, pointedly ignoring him as I wind my way around the gym and into the locker room to toss dirty towels into the washer.



I’m not there for two minutes before my hips are pressed against the cool metal of the machine. There is warm breath against my ear and a warm body pressed against my back.



“You know you want to,” Dominic whispers, his hand gripping my ass. Hard. “Just go. That’s all you have to do.”



I glance to the side, to make sure no one else is here with us before I slip from his grip and flip around, staring into his eyes.



“You know you want me to,” I answer. As I do, I reach out my hand and cup his crotch, the first time I’ve actually done so. I stroke the denim for a second before I grip him through it. He swallows hard. “Don’t you?”



He looks at me dangerously, his eyes darkening as his crotch hardens. He doesn’t say anything, so I grip him harder.



“Yes or no?”



He doesn’t flinch, even though my grip must hurt now. He stays hard, but that shouldn’t be surprising. He did say that a little pain is good.



“Yes,” he finally answers, shocking me. I didn’t think he’d admit it.



I smile, a slow smile that spreads across my face. “So go,” I instruct him.



The dangerous light glints in his eyes and I can see that he likes my commanding tone. He turns on his heel and walks away. I watch his broad shoulders disappear from the room, excitement building in my stomach. I wait just a minute before I follow him, making my way to the supply closet.



I open the door, but am surprised to find it empty. He’s not here.



“What the…”



But then he’s in the doorway, filling up the room, closing the door behind him.



“You thought you’d get to tell me what to do?” he asks softly, walking me backward until my back is pressed to the wall. “That’s not how this works, princess. Although I admire your balls.”



“I thought we already established that I don’t have balls?” I raise an eyebrow. He laughs, a husky, low sound.



“Maybe I should double check.”



I was expecting his hand.



But his hand isn’t what I get.



Dominic drops to his knees, and as he does, he pulls my shorts down. Since they have an elastic band, they’re easy to peel off, and he takes full advantage of that. He slides them down until they drop around my ankles.



Without preamble, he thrusts his tongue into me, wet and hot. The room is immediately filled with his energy, with his dark, dark energy. It’s a primal thing… like Dominic is taking full control of the situation. It’s delicious. My head immediately falls back on its own accord and I grip the shelves behind me.



“Anyone could come in here,” I manage to gasp as I struggle to breathe deeply, trying like hell to catch my breath. Dominic pulls away.



“True,” he acknowledges, pausing. “But they won’t. Only you and I come in here. And you are going to come right now.”



He thrusts his tongue into me again, over and over, until I am panting and clinging limply to his back.



And then I do come.



Just like that.



I come and come, the muscles of my uterus contracting, my thighs trembling.



Dominic immediately stands up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He bends, pulls my shorts up, and then dips his head to my ear.



“I love the taste of you.”



And then he walks out. Like this never happened. Like he always does.



I grip the wall behind me, catching my breath and waiting until my knees stop shaking. It happened. I was just licked to orgasm in a supply closet… by Dominic Kinkaide. Holy shit.



When I can manage, I slip back out into the gym nonchalantly, as casually as I can. Dominic is holding a bag for a boy I haven’t met yet, and he catches my eye as I walk past.



“Everything okay, Jacey?” he asks innocently, as if he doesn’t know that my legs are jelly. Or why.



“I’m good,” I answer back, every bit as innocently as he does. He winks, then runs his tongue across his lips.



“I know,” he replies.



And just like that, my heart takes off like helicopter blades again. The man can barely look at me and I’m a goner. Like, I seriously just want him to carry me off to bed, where we can hole up for a weekend and not do anything but stare into each other’s eyes.



Fuck. That can’t be good. Because he doesn’t want to stare into my eyes. He wants to render me helpless with his sexcapades. I square my shoulders and turn away.



I try and ignore Dominic for the rest of our shift, and instead of talking to him, I focus on other things. The moistness in my underwear reminds me from time to time, though, as does his mischievous grin whenever I accidentally meet his gaze. But I stubbornly avoid him anyway.