Craving HIM Read online

  “Here,” he murmured against my lips. “We were here the first time I took you. I want to take you right here again while you wear nothing but this.”

  He touched the metal at my neck and I shivered at the possessiveness that lit his eyes. I loved when he looked at me like that. Like I was the only thing that mattered to him.

  “Yes, Sir,” I whispered, smiling up at him. I brushed my fingers through his hair, then ran them down the side of his face.

  “My name,” he said, stretching out over me. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “Dominic.” I slid my hands up his chest and then back down, gripping his hips. “What do you want me to do, Dominic?”

  “I want you to lie there and let me do whatever I want to do.”

  A shuddering breath escaped me. “Yes, Dominic.”

  ***

  The blindfold blocked out my sight, magnifying my other sensations. The silence. Sensations. I was acutely aware of how it felt to lie there with my hands bound above my head and my thighs draped over Dominic’s shoulders.

  He'd been licking and sucking every sensitive place between my legs for what felt like years. My entire body was strung tight, my nerves screaming for release.

  “Please let me come,” I begged for the third time.

  He didn’t respond, continuing to tease my clit as his fingers moved in and out of me.

  I cried out and twisted against his mouth, desperate for climax.

  He twisted the two fingers inside me and curled them, pressing his fingertips right against that spot. A wail ripped out of me, and this time, I didn’t bother asking. Didn’t even bother to fight it.

  I came hard and fast, my body arching up off of the couch, pussy tightening around his fingers. I shuddered as he pulled his fingers out, then slumped back down, muscles limp. Panting and still sightless, I tried to follow the sound of his movements as he moved away.

  He left the room. I could tell by the echoing silence that wrapped around me.

  Shit.

  When he said my name less than a minute later, I jumped.

  “You came without my permission, Aleena,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Dominic,” he chided.

  “I’m sorry, Dominic.” But I wasn’t. Not really.

  He laughed quietly and I shivered when he trailed a hand down the inside of my thigh. I knew that laugh.

  I was in trouble.

  “You’re not really sorry, and now I have to punish you.” He pressed his mouth to my ear. “If you scream, I’ll stop. Then I’ll stroke my cock until I come and you won’t get to feel it inside you today. That won’t make either of us happy, will it?”

  “No.” I practically whimpered when I said it. Okay, maybe I was a little sorry now.

  “Good girl.”

  Damn, I loved that tone.

  I couldn’t see him and I didn’t hear anything, no matter how hard I tried. There was no warning, just the light slap against my pussy. I sucked in a breath, jolting in shock, the pain mixing with pleasure. My skin was wet, sensitive from coming, and that only added to the intensity.

  “It’s a paddle,” he said, administering another blow that seemed at odds with his conversational tone. “I was saving it for the next time I needed to spank you. Since you came without permission, I think I need to spank something other than your ass.”

  “Yes, Dominic.” I sucked in a breath as he did it again. I squirmed, wanting more. He obliged and I moaned as a new wave of sensations rolled over me.

  “You know, I think I need something more to make sure you understand not to disobey me again.”

  Suddenly, he was gone and I tried to use the time to get myself under control. Then I heard his footsteps and knew it was a lost cause.

  “I’m going to put this inside your cunt, Aleena.”

  Oh, fuck. My stomach clenched.

  “You’re going to feel it vibrating when I spank you and you’re going to want to come. Will you come without permission again?”

  “No,” I said quickly. I needed him inside me and I knew he'd only do that if I was good.

  When he pressed the rounded, blunt tip of something against the entrance between my thighs, I locked my jaw to keep from crying out. It was cool and hard.

  And fucking vibrating.

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from moaning and by the time he had it lodged inside me, I was wiggling against it, desperate to get the vibration against my clit. Inside me, it wasn't enough. It filled me, massaging my walls, but it still wasn't enough.

  He spanked my pussy again with the paddle and the vibrator shifted inside me.

  I hissed out a breath, my eyes rolling back.

  He did it again and again, each time sending a heated rush of pain and pleasure to me and I slid into that surreal place where both sensations meant the same thing. It was a balancing act then, preparing for the blows that alternated between light and almost too hard, and trying not to come while the vibrator wiggled and buzzed and rolled inside me.

  Finally, it became too much and I started to beg, telling Dominic with my body, with what few coherent words I could form, that I needed to come.

  But he didn’t give me permission.

  Instead, I found myself twisted and pulled up onto my knees. I barely caught myself on my elbows, moaning as the vibrator shifted with my movements.

  Then, cool, wet fingers pressed against my anus and I gasped, but didn't move. I couldn't have even if I'd been willing to. I had no leverage. I dropped my head, pressing my face against the couch cushion as he worked a finger into me. I managed to muffle a whimper as he rubbed the vibrator through the thin wall of skin between it and his finger.

  Then the finger was gone and I braced myself because I knew what was coming next. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to make myself relax. The tip of him pressed against my puckered entrance and I felt pressure as he worked his way inside. I panted as the ring of muscle stretched around the head of his cock, and then he was pushing the rest of his thick shaft inside and there was no room, not with something already in my pussy.

  It felt like he was tearing me in half, but the line between pleasure and pain had so blurred that I didn't know what to do.

  I screamed, unable to stop myself.

  He fisted a hand in my hair and pulled me up. The action forced his cock deeper into my ass and I whimpered.

  “Did I give you permission to scream Aleena?” he asked, voice raw with desire.

  “No, Sir.” I could barely breathe, let alone speak. “Please…please, Dominic. Let me scream. Let me come.”

  “You can scream. But don’t come.”

  He kept his fist in my hair, holding me in place as he began to thrust into me, filling my ass with slow, steady strokes. The noises that escaped barely sounded human, just wordless, helpless pleas for release. I was so full. Too full. The muscles in my legs began to quiver and I knew I couldn't hold myself up much longer.

  As he began to move faster, his hips snapping up against my ass, tears began to stream down my cheeks. “I can’t take it, Dominic!”

  “Come,” he told me.

  That single word changed everything.

  I broke around him and felt his cock jerk inside me. Heat exploded, need twisted and I came so hard, I went weak and would have fallen, save for the hand still tangled in my hair and his cock still moving inside me.

  “You,” he growled the words, each punctuated with a brutal thrust. “Are. Mine.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, my body shuddering with the intensity of sensations coursing through me.

  One of his hands came up to grasp my breast, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “Mine!” He came with a shout, the heated slash of his semen inside me rolling me into another orgasm.

  Black dots danced in front of my eyes as I struggled to get enough air. I knew every inch of me was going to be sore and aching once the high wore off, but it had definitely been worth it.

  Chapter 6


  Dominic

  The book lay in front of me, the truth of my existence contained between its pages. But it didn't tell me enough.

  Cecily had been a wild child, liked to party and play around. I could understand that. I’d done the same thing. My father, on the other hand, had been a rich, up-and-coming politician. Surprising nobody, he’d denied all involvement with her when she’d told people about sleeping with him, and since I'd “died,” there was no way for her to prove he'd gotten her pregnant. There was no doubt in my mind that he was my father, though.

  All I'd needed had been to see a picture. I was him remade—physically at least. I hoped to hell I had nothing else in common with him. As little as I knew, he was on the same level as Solomon when it came to integrity and just being a decent human being.

  I needed to know more about him. All I had beyond what these pages held were a few bare basics Cecily had mentioned in our conversations over the past few weeks. While Cecily hadn't said it, it was pretty obvious there were details she hadn’t written. She’d probably fielded a lot of legal headaches when she'd first published as it was.

  Looking away from the book, I focused back on the computer screen. I’d finally gotten up the courage to do an internet search on the man who’d fathered me and the results were enough to turn my stomach. He’d threatened to sue Cecily after the book had been published, and although that hadn’t ever gone to court, Cecily had dealt with more than a few problems since the book’s publication: an IRS audit, several investigations into the charities she was associated with, and one of them had severed ties with her altogether.

  She hadn't sent out a press release or even answered questions about any of the situations, letting people speculate all they wanted.

  While there wasn't any proof, I had a gut feeling I knew how things had unfolded. He’d threatened to sue her. She’d likely stood her ground and made it clear if he went through with a lawsuit, other ugly facts would come out. She was a smart woman. She’d probably kept an eye on him over the years, would have had dirt on him. I would have.

  I sure as hell hoped I took after her more than him.

  Even looking at his picture was enough to turn my stomach. I could barely look at myself in the mirror since I'd seen how much I looked like him.

  What was even worse, I’d voted for the son of bitch.

  Jamison Christopher Woodrow, or JC as he preferred to be called, was often hailed as a modern JFK and I’d actually appreciated the man’s politics. But I'd done the math. He’d been married for thirty-eight years and had three kids in their early thirties, including a son who was almost exactly a year older than me.

  He’d been married when he slept with my mother.

  He was fifteen years older than her. He’d been thirty-four, my mother nineteen.

  Somehow, I didn’t see a lot of balance in that relationship.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was a decent guy.

  And maybe the tooth fairy would show up to leave a couple of bucks under my pillow tonight.

  Still, I wanted to talk to Cecily and ask her about JC. I wanted to know more about the man than what she’d written in the book.

  Mind made up, I tugged out my phone and dialed her number.

  ***

  “Dominic…”

  Cecily looked strong and beautiful in a suit the color of daisies. Few people could wear that color well, but she did. Her dark hair swept down to hide her face when she lowered her gaze to the table and then, slowly, she looked up at me.

  “This isn’t…it’s been a long time. You have to understand that I was a foolish girl. I did a foolish thing.”

  I covered her hand. “And I’m here because of it. Cecily, I want to know who he is, not just his name. That’s in the book, but I want to know more about him.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her gaze sad as she looked away. “You don’t. You really, really don’t.”

  I continued to study her face, struggling with the right words to tell her all the things that had been twisting through my head. I didn’t know how to start, didn’t know where to start.

  She twisted her hand around and threaded our fingers together. She sighed. “You're not going to let this go, are you? Can’t you trust me when I tell you that you’re better off not knowing that man?”

  Slowly releasing my breath, I looked down at our linked hands. She touched people easily. I’d already noticed that. She gave hugs and affection as easily as my adopted parents with-held them. I wondered how much different things would've been for me after...the incident if I'd had her there to take care of me.

  “This isn’t about trust,” I said, taking my time with my response. Hurting her was the last thing I wanted, but I needed those answers. “I just…look, Cecily, there’s a hole inside me. It’s always been there. It’s not as bad now as it was when I was younger, but I’m still trying to figure out who I am and how everything fits. He’s a part of that puzzle.”

  “He was a sperm donor.” She squeezed my hand and then tugged hers free, looking away from me.

  As the server approached, she lapsed into silence. He offered to top off our wine glasses and I told him to leave the bottle. I didn't want any more interruptions.

  “I’ll let you know when we need you,” I said, nodding at him.

  He left after giving both me and Cecily polite smiles. I poured more wine into Cecily’s glass and she smiled her thanks. She lifted the crystal to her lips, taking a slow sip. Her gaze was turned inward and I wondered if I’d pushed too hard. This relationship thing wasn't any easier with her than it was with Aleena. But it was just as worth it.

  “He was just a sperm donor, Dominic,” she said again, finally looking at me. “I know you’ve read my book. I kept it short and, well, you can’t call anything about our relationship sweet. I thought I loved him and I thought he loved me. He had me believing that lie, I can tell you that much.”

  Her laugh was soft and bitter and a flash of anger went through me. I'd gone through my fair share of women, but I'd never led any of them on. I couldn't imagine how someone could be that cruel, especially to a woman like Cecily.

  “I was nineteen and stupid. I had no idea how the world really worked.” She leaned back in her chair, one elbow propped on the arm while she brooded into her wine.

  Something else I got from her.

  “I’ve met girls who were ten and twelve years-old who had more sense than I did at nineteen. My parents gave me everything. They doted on me, but they didn’t know how to be parents. They didn’t know how to say no, and they certainly didn’t know how to prepare me for the real world. I had my first car the day I turned sixteen and I wrecked it the very next day. They weren’t happy, of course. Although it was my fault, they were so relieved I wasn’t injured, they had a surprise waiting for me the next morning…another car. I made that one last a month.” She paused and gave me a wry smile. “How long do you think they waited before I got my next one?”

  “I’m going to guess it wasn’t long.” This wasn’t an unfamiliar story. It wasn’t even that dissimilar from mine, up until everything went to shit.

  “They told me I’d have to wait until Christmas.” She laughed without any humor. “That was a whole six weeks and you would have thought they’d beaten me, the way I acted. So instead of my own car, they made sure I had a driver at my beck and call. When I graduated from high school, my mother sent me and three of my friends to Europe. We visited England, France, Greece, Austria…” She sighed and looked away. “I learned very quickly that I was legal drinking age there. I started to party. Hard. By the time that summer trip ended, I was living on gin and tonic and salad. And that fall, I met JC.”

  She lapsed into silence and I knew she was done freely giving information.

  As she sipped her wine, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had been bothering me since I'd learned who my father was.

  “Have you…” I stopped and cleared my throat as her gaze came back to mine. “Do
you ever see him now? Speak to him?”

  She laughed that humorless laugh again, tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Yes. I see him on rare occasion. Our social circles don’t intertwine too often, but it does happen occasionally. If and when I see him, I pretend that I didn’t. It’s easier. He’s smart enough to do the same.”

  “When the news came out about…” I closed my eyes. Why the hell was this so fucking hard? Do it, I told myself. Grow some balls and just do it. Setting my jaw, I stared at Cecily. “The news about me was pretty big. Did he attempt to contact you?”

  Sadness lit her eyes and she shook her head. “No. And he won’t.” Leaning forward, she caught my hand in hers and covered it gently. “Dominic, I know you wish you would have found a couple of young, foolish kids who’d loved each other and given you up because it was the best thing for you, but I can’t give you that. I was young and foolish and I thought I was in love, yes. But you were stolen from me. The man who helped me give you life? That was all he did, donate the sperm that fertilized the egg. He wasn't a good man, then, Dominic, and he's not one now. He’s not looking for a warm, loving reunion of any kind.”

  I opened my mouth to say that I knew he wasn't, but that maybe...she tightened her hand ever so slightly and then let go, settling back in her chair with a warning look on her face.

  I saw why a moment later when I caught sight of a familiar face from the corner of my eye. A reporter. With an irritated snort, I looked away. The staff cut the journalist off before she could approach, and I heard her making noises, trying to convince them to let her approach, but she wasted her breath. Yet another reason this was one of my favorite restaurants. I'd brought Aleena here a couple of times already.

  “You want me to let this go, don’t you?” I stared out the wide, sparkling expanse of glass that faced out over Bryant Park. People moved back and forth across the green lawn, tourists stopping in for lunch side by side with local business workers.