Caught: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (His Domination Book 2) (13 page)

Sure enough, it was perfect.

What set it apart from a regular brunch dress was the keyhole that rested right at the top of Monica’s cleavage. Combined with her curls, she had the air of a woman ready for a fancy dinner. Like the one Henry was going to take her to shortly after this.

“Looks like a winner to me.” He was behind her, peering over her shoulder but not touching her. “You should get it. And wear it out of here.”

That was her cue that they were done shopping.

She did as subtly ordered. The clothes she wore into the store were boxed up with the red dress, and the helper snipped off the tags once Henry’s credit card went through. Monica excused herself to the powder room to freshen up her makeup and ensure that it matched her new dress. Once the mascara was gingerly applied and a fresh coat of blush put on, she pulled back her curls into a loose bun that rained upon her shoulders.

When she stepped back into the boutique, the bags were already in Henry’s car – and he was staring at her, eyes dancing between her face and the dress on her body.

Restlessness didn’t settle in until they stepped outside, Monica without her coat or shawl. For a spring day it was rather cold, the temperature snapping against her arms as she waited for Henry’s driver to open her door. The moment Henry put his hand on her back a cold breeze blew by, reminding Monica that an important piece of clothing was currently in her Dom’s front jacket pocket.
Holy…
Her eyes widened, and Henry had to push her toward the car to get her to sit.

Dinner reservations had been made with privacy in mind. That’s what Monica discovered when they arrived and the host took them into a small back room with low lighting and candles burning brightly in the center of a two-person table. Champagne was readily available, but Henry ordered a vintage wine the moment they were seated.

“Very good,” their waiter, a man dressed better than most office workers said. “Would you like to order dinner or at least appetizers, Monsieur?”

French food, huh?
Monica smiled over her water glass. She deferred her order to Henry who decided she would like the chef’s choice. “No appetizers. The wine will tie us over until the main course.”

“And should the meals be served at the same time, monsieur?”

“Absolutely.”

“The lady’s meal will take about forty-five minutes to prepare.”

“That’s fine. We’ll be extra hungry.” Henry winked at the waiter. The man in a tuxedo was off, and the door to their private paradise clicked shut.

Both wineglasses remained empty. Henry sat expectantly across from Monica, candlelight licking his skin and making his eyes glow in the same hunger she saw in the boutique.

Monica crossed her legs. It was the only way to keep her naked thighs from going crazy.

“You know,” she began, reaching for the wine bottle and opening it without a second thought. A steady stream poured into Henry’s glass. “I love it when a man knows how to order for me.”

Now it wasn’t just candlelight licking his lips. It was a smile, too. “I know.”

Steady. Low. Monica had entered a scene and barely realized it. “Should I pour myself a glass too, sir?”

“Of course. And I expect a different word out of you, Monica.”

She steeled herself in her chair. “Of course. Master.”

This was it. This was what Monica had been waiting for.
What I wrote in my letter.
Her need to serve
and
submit at the same time. Henry was good at getting her to submit easily enough. But she wanted more. She wanted to serve – to have him become her whole world for a while.

She poured herself some wine and held it up for a toast. Henry matched her. “To new adventures,” he said. Their glasses clinked together and he drank, his eyes still boring right into hers.

Bitterness washed down Monica’s throat. She did not flinch. “Are you pleased with my dress?” She tugged on the keyhole, revealing more skin for Henry to devour in the candlelight.

Be honest.
Monica didn’t want platitudes. She wanted compliments, but only if she had earned them. The dress? Henry chose that. Her hair and makeup? That was all her. While Monica liked the way she looked that night, she would be happier knowing that Henry also thought she was gorgeous. From the way he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and licked it… perhaps she was on the right track.

“I think you tempt me on purpose.”

Well, of course. Monica couldn’t say that. Her stomach also growled, but Henry had made a point of making sure they weren’t disturbed for a long while.
What’s his plan?
He wasn’t…

Was he?

Monica really, really wished she had her underwear on right now. Especially when this dress was brand new and she was waking up to certain ideas.

“It’s not my intention to tempt you, Master.”

Henry drank more wine. “Yes it is. You’ve been tempting me since we first met. Do you know how hard I have to work to keep myself steady around you?” He leaned forward, his dark blond hair almost brown in the low light. “Women like you get off on grabbing a man’s cock in public.”

Did this count as public? “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No you’re not. Look at the way you’re wearing this dress. You want me to stare at your breasts all night.” The last of the wine disappeared past his tongue. Monica picked up the bottle and offered him more. He readily accepted.

“What can I do to please you?”

Henry glanced into his pocket. His phone? Her underwear?
The list.
The damned list of things Monica said she wanted from the Dom who promised to help heal her.
Anything off that list right now would be…
She sucked in her breath, which made her chest more prominent.

As expected, his eyes lingered on her keyhole. “Contain yourself. We’re in public.”

Tingles forced Monica to cross her legs in the other direction. She looked at the fine tablecloth, mind racing with what Henry could be playing at. Deep down, she knew.
Humiliation.
The thought shouldn’t have made her nipples harden in her dress, and yet… “I’m trying, Master.”

The best part? She didn’t have to be demure. She didn’t have to sweeten her voice. She was still the same Monica she had always been. For her, this wasn’t acting.

“Try harder, for God’s sake.” Henry held his wineglass but didn’t drink. “If you don’t tone it down, I may be forced to deal with you.”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments.

“Shit.” Henry stood, his chair shooting out behind him and the wineglass nearly spilling on the white tablecloth. “Why do you have to be so bewitching? You’re turning me into a sick man, Monica.”

She cast her eyes down. “I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered.

“Sorry isn’t good enough. You clearly don’t know your place.” Slowly, Henry rounded the table, standing only a few inches from his sub. His hand gently patted her head and fingered her curls. “You need to learn that you can’t tempt me twenty-four hours a day. I’m a man with a schedule. I need to be… collected… for the other people around me. Whenever I’m with you…” His hand slipped down her chest, clutching her breast and rolling her nipple through both dress and bra. Monica whimpered. “I want to lose my fucking mind.”

Two fingers pushed into the keyhole, wetting themselves in the sweat of her cleavage. Monica regulated her breathing but could not stop the fluttering of her eyelashes as she sat perfectly still.

“I have to constantly ask myself if I’m going to deny my need for you.” Henry pulled his hand out and placed it on top of Monica’s untouched water glass. “Or am I going to indulge in you? You know what I want to do, of course.”

Ice swirled in the glass. Monica watched him pick a sizable cube and pull it out in one motion. “I want the same thing, Master.”

“Of course you do.”

Cold. Bitter, biting cold stung Monica’s cheek as the ice cube began melting against her skin. Her lips parted, some of the water dripping into the maw of her mouth. When Henry drew the ice cube back toward her ear? The lights blurred before her.

“You can’t contain yourself.”

The ice awakened every part of Monica. Her hips tightened in her dress. Her legs parted. Her hands created hard fists on the table. The only thing keeping her in place was the fact Henry had yet to ask her to do anything.

“No, Master.” Her voice was already ragged. The ice cube, now smaller, made its way down her neck and onto the dress. “I’m so sorry. I can’t contain myself.”

“All you want is sex.”

“I want to serve you, Master.” The ice cube teased the edge of the keyhole before disappearing into her cleavage. Monica hissed.

The ice in her glass rattled again. “You can serve me by knowing when is and when is not an appropriate time to arouse me.” Another ice cube disappeared down her cleavage. The melting sensation against her skin made her cold breasts jerk beneath his touch. “Remember when I took your panties earlier?”

Monica nodded.

“There’s a reason for that. Stand up and bend over the table.”

Oh my God, he was going to do it!

Monica obeyed, head down and curls playing with the ice water spilling from her breasts. Good thing they hadn’t been served dinner yet. It gave her an empty space on the table to bend over, legs spread across her chair.

She thought he would thrust into her. Instead, Henry picked up another ice cube.

“Lift your skirt.”

The moment Monica presented her ass to him, she received a hard,
hard
spank.

“Ah!” The surprise echoed in the private room. Another spank, and her fingers clutched the edge of the table.

“Do you apologize for tempting me at an inappropriate time?”

“Yes, Master!”

“Do you know your place?”

“Yes!”

He spanked her again, her hips snapping forward from the force.

Something cold touched her raw skin.

“Oh…” Monica both wished for and against someone coming through that door right now. “Henry…”

The cold numbed her to the pain she received. Slowly,
slowly,
the ice cube traveled down her ass, the water left behind both soothing and a nuisance. It made her legs shake, her arms bend against the table, and the already melted ice in her cleavage spill water onto the table.

“What did you say?”

“I mean…” The cold was on her slit now, pushing toward her opening. “Master.”

“I like the way you say that word. Or I would if it didn’t make me want to fuck you. Don’t you remember what I said?”

“I’m so sorry, Master.” Monica tried not to pull away from the cold swirling around her opening, but she couldn’t help herself. Henry pushed her torso down with his other hand. “Please go easy on me.”

“No, Monica. I want you to beg for the exact opposite. If you’re so insistent on seducing me, then I’ll make you work extra hard for it.”

The ice cube felt like it was tearing her apart as the cold invaded her body and ventured toward her deepest recesses.

Her pitiful whimpers must have placated Henry, for he picked up the last ice cube from her glass and rubbed it against her skin.

“Does it burn?” he asked softly, the large ice cube hovering outside her entrance. “Does the ice hurt?”

“No, Master.” It hurt, but in the good way. Her neurons were alive with perpetual pleasure, a feeling unlike anything she had experienced in so long.
I’m going mad.
Keeping perfectly still as the ice spread its chill throughout her body? Not easy! And as that chill turned into her body’s natural warmth, she was reminded how wholly human – how wholly woman – she was. Small droplets of water dripped onto her thigh.

Before she knew it, a quick, snapping spank hit her ass.

“How about that? Does that hurt?”

Another spank.

Another.

Three spanks in a row, and Monica was about to come undone. The pain of his touch and the pain of the ice made her wiggle in his grasp. “No, Master!” She gasped the reply, for the biggest ice cube was now melting and threatening to pop out of her body.

After a tiring shudder, it dropped to the floor anyway.

Henry clicked his tongue when he bent down to pick it up. “I knew it. You can’t control anything right now. Looks like I have some training to do.” The ice cube, warm and tasting of her arousal, pressed against her mouth. “Open.”

She took the ice cube into her mouth and pressed her tongue upon it.

“Don’t swallow it.”

She wasn’t going to.

“Sit in the chair.”

Monica obeyed, careful to keep the smaller ice cube within her as she eased back into her seat and pressed her hands against hard wood. Her skin was on fire. Freezing. Freezing with fire. She didn’t know if she wanted Henry to fuck her or stay like that until the end of dinner.

Good thing she had a Dom to make the decisions for her.

“Over here.” Henry yanked on her curls, pulling her head toward his hips.