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Because he could sit here and think through a thousand different scenarios to energetically explain his point of view until she surrendered the way he liked best, but if the only reason she was here was because she wanted to hurt Conrad... Well. That didn’t exactly fit in with all the futures he was building in his head.
He sat with that for a moment. And didn’t like it. Not when she’d given herself over into his hands so beautifully, so completely.
Dorian was hard just thinking about it. Hard and something more—in a kind of awe, really, at her ability to kneel. To submit. To bend to his will, and find herself brighter and more beautiful on the other side.
Fundamentally, he didn’t believe—maybe hecouldn’tbelieve—that what had happened between them hadn’t gotten to her.
He figured it was possible she’d come after him for revenge, then found herself on her knees, significantly more compelled by their dynamic than she’d planned. Because the bedroom games she’d played before weren’t the same thing as the true, real connection that had blazed between them. No game could touch it.
And that connection was worth anything and everything, as far as Dorian was concerned. Especially when, until last night, he had truly believed that he would have to pack these needs of his away, meet a perfectly nice girl by regular means instead of in his club, where he could ask her for a list of her soft and hard limits, and sentence himself to a life devoid of all this glorious color.
He could get off by having vanilla sex, if he had to, as he’d told Erika last night. He had before, and he’d told himself that he would again. There had been times when he’d assured himself it wasn’t even a great sacrifice. Not when he had found it so difficult to find that true connection he craved out there in the clubs, and Lord knew that even vanilla sex was better than going without.
That was what he’d told himself. And he’d been more than halfway to convincing himself that he really, truly believed it. He’d even assured his grandfather that this would be the year he would start looking seriously for an appropriate wife.
And he had. He’d gone on a few perfectly nice dates with lovely women who did absolutely nothing for him. And he’d been gearing himself to simply...choose one and commit himself, if not to his own happiness, then to hers.
But today he found himself standing in a life that looked exactly the way it had yesterday, but was wrecked from the inside out. Changed entirely.
By one mouthy, spoiled, impossible brat who made his cock hard and his heart kick, even now.
Dorian set down his second cup of coffee, ran his hands over his face and accepted his fate. It was done, as far as he was concerned. And Master Dorian did not dither when he’d made up his mind.
He set about getting what he wanted.
And one thing Dorian was very, very good at was getting what he wanted.
He needed to get Erika to admit what had happened here between them, by whatever means necessary, and no matter what revenge fantasies she might have been cooking up in that fascinating little mind of hers.
He also needed to call his best friend, tell him what had happened—or at any rate, a highly sanitized version of what had happened, complete with a full accounting of Dorian’s intentions—and accept whatever reaction Conrad might have. Even if it was violent.
Dorian fully expected it to be violent.
But he was prepared to accept the consequences. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have done it.
He blew out a breath, picked up his mobile and dialed Conrad’s number.
Because there was no way he would be able to conduct the conversation he needed to have with Erika in the way he wanted until he talked to her brother.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Conrad said when he answered his phone. In the background, Dorian could hear the sounds of a major city. Paris, if Conrad was at home. Though in truth, the man traveled as much as Dorian did, and could be anywhere. Dorian hoped, given what he expected Conrad’s reaction to be, that it wasn’t Berlin. “Really. You’re not going to believe it. I’m getting married.”
“Funnily enough,” Dorian said, because there was no point doing any of this unless he was all in, “that was what I called to talk to you about. And I’m pretty sure you will believe it even less.”
Erika woke up when sunlight streamed in the windows, bright and warm on her face.
She knew exactly where she was.
Berlin. Dorian’s massive penthouse.Dorian.
For a moment, she let herself lie there as she was, curled up naked in his bed with the most extraordinary feeling that she...belonged there.
That she was safe at last. Cared for the way she’d always dreamed. And right where she was supposed to be.
But Erika knew better than to let herself get carried away with dreams that could never come true, no matter how at peace she felt in this bed. In this home.
She sat up gingerly, expecting there to be pain, but the ache in her butt was minimal and really almost...pleasant. Her pussy felt sensitive. Not exactly fragile, more...greedy. If anything, she wanted more of it.
More of everything. More ofthis. And more of him.
