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Over the last few days they’d settled into an easy routine. Roman got the bathroom first—she was raised guests came first—and then it was her turn while Roman cooked them a light meal to start their evening. Seemed fair to her. She’d never met a cleaner man so she couldn’t complain and while she loved cooking as much as the next person, the effort a meal would take appealed to her as much as outing herself.
Not happening.
The man could make a mean pot of coffee that fought off exhaustion like a magic potion, which almost made up for the forced sex mate slash bodyguard. And somehow, he’d passed his addiction to cinnamon rolls off on her. Something she’d have to manage on her own after tonight.
“I’m up.” She swung her door open wider to a man already decked out in his customary suit. Tonight he’d opted sans tie and had his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. He gave the vibe of easygoing and laidback but he was anything but. The holster around his shoulders gave that away.
“About time, pretty boy. I almost thought I’d have to bang the door down for my turn.” Her teasing nickname for him brought a brow up and a smirk to his lips. She kept using it just to see the subtle irritation on his face each evening.
He caged her throat with a light grip. “Pretty boy? You push me too far and you’ll see how this pretty boy can turn wicked.” He paused. “You could have joined me. I love a morning blow job.” He ran his nose over her jawline and pressed a light kiss to her temple.
“What makes you think you would have gotten lucky?” she teased breathlessly, knowing she toed lines.
“I thought you knew, baby. I get what I want.” He tightened his grip a fraction more to make a point.
Him merely holding her this way made wetness flood her. She moaned despite wanting to push him away. Fighting what she felt seemed so...pointless. He made her want too much, and lose all her good damn sense.
“Tell me. Who owns you?” he demanded, upping the game and slipping a thick thigh between her legs.
Resist. Resist. “You own me,” she murmured.
His eyes glittered with triumph at her surrender. He loosened his grip only to use his other hand to reach between her legs, move aside her panties to coat his fingers with her arousal.
He chuckled lowly. “That’s right, my sweetness. I love the pretty flush on your cheeks and the way you say my name. When I’m inside you again I want to hear you scream my name. Remember that. Scream for me and I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life.”
She nodded wondering if that would or could happen right now with how ready she felt for his dark promise.
He stepped back and she watched him drink her juices from the tips of his fingers. “Nectar of the gods,” he whispered.
It was the same every evening as they crossed paths or something similar. And then when they returned early in the morning he made good on the promise.
She made quick work of getting ready and found Roman in the kitchen by the coffee pot. She’d learned several things about him over the last few days. He didn’t eat much, made sure she never skipped a meal and he had a deep affection for coffee to start and a stiff vodka to end the day.
She took the mug he offered and leaned a hip against the small kitchen counter. “Can I ask you something?”
He studied her, which she also learned was his way of saying go for it.
“It’s of a personal nature. You know…err…your private side.” She hid half her face behind her mug.
His soft chuckle eased the nerves that had her gnawing at her lip and set his own mug down. “What is it that you want to know, sweetheart.”
“When a woman, a submissive, gives full control of herself to a DOM, or multiple DOMS, does that mean he can cause pain or pleasure alike? Like, does the submissive have to take it after she’s handed over her submission to him, them? I only ask because I know you and the guys, you’re into a lot.” She touched her neck feeling the ghost of his and Matteo’s hands around her neck.
He turned her to face him and he palmed her face. “You never have anything to fear from us. We would never hurt you and if we ever got into territory you were not comfortable with, we would use a safe word. One utterance from you and everything would stop.”
“I… I know.” She settled her hands on his waist loving the feel of his warmth and used it as an anchor for the other half of her question.
“But in other situations, for other girls, other DOMS…”
Roman released a heavy sigh. “There are assholes out there who will take submissive women and pervert the whole lifestyle. They’ll feed off their weakness and take advantage of them. So, yes. If a woman isn’t careful who she gives her complete consent to, it could be very dangerous. Once a scrupulous DOM, if you want to call them that, gets their hooks into a woman it would be nearly impossible for them to break free. Men like that take ownership to a whole new level.” He drew in a deep breath and leveled her with a look that bordered on anger. “Their comprehension of possession is borderline psychotic.”
She reached out and placed a hand over his.
“Not like what we have. What we all share with you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed kisses to her hair. Like this, she didn’t know how she could have ever considered them the enemy, but they were. Her heart and soul were at war on the verdict. Instead of fighting it, she pressed closer until the pounding of their hearts fell into a rhythm.
She nodded, her head moving against his chest. “How can you tell if a submissive is being brutalized?” The word sounded crass and cold and gave her chills.
“You’ll see the discolored marking left behind from the beating like any other abuse victim. You can see it in their eyes, too.”
