Caught: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (His Domination Book 2) (16 page)

He stopped.

The sound coming from Monica’s throat was pure frustration. There was orgasm denial, and then there was this. She was so pent up that she was about to burst right on his hand – especially when he pulled his shirt open and pressed their skin together, his belt coming undone and his zipper dropping. His stiff cock brushed against her back.

And his fingers reappeared inside her.

“Come if you want,” Henry said, both of his hands working her until she was likely to scream his name. “Just give me what I want in exchange.”

Between his touch, his words, and the heat of the situation, Monica began to orgasm. Yet before it hit her like a meteorite crashing into her body from the heavens, she gave Henry exactly what he wanted: enough wetness to slide his cock into her even at that angle, and enough wetness to mark the comforter beneath her.

“That’s it, lovely,” he said with a gruff tone. His fingers shook within her, filling her deep and sending her eyes to the back of her head. “All over my bed. Give yourself to me.”

It seemed like a fair trade. Him in the restaurant, and her in the bedroom.

Of course, Monica would prefer to have him yet again.

When her orgasm dispersed within her, she opened her eyes to see Henry unlocking the spreader and freeing her legs. He waited until the spreader was off the bed before untying the rope and catching her in his arms.

Henry laid her down, her head touching the nearest pillow. He continued to loom over her, his clothing coming off as Monica prepared to take him one last time.

“Are you ready for me?” He eased her legs open again and hovered between them. Although he did not thrust into her, Henry lowered his lips and kissed her cheek lightly. More kisses meandered down her throat and then back up the other side. “Don’t tell me I wore you out already.”

Monica wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him closer, their lips melding together until she had to answer again. “Never,” she mumbled against his mouth. “I always want you again.”

“Good.” With that, Henry entered her, his lips taking over hers once more.

Although she was not tied up, bound, or otherwise immobilized, Monica still felt the crushing weight of his body on top of her. Muscles moved beneath her grasp as Henry thrust into her, his groans of pleasure as he took her echoing between Monica’s ear and the pillow. There was no pain, aside from the ache in her thighs. All Monica was aware of in those moments was her body, Henry’s, and the bed they made love on.

I feel so liberated.
He held her down, and yet it was for a union of their hearts and minds, not just their bodies. Truly, it was impossible for them to achieve this sensation on their own. Monica needed him as much as he needed her. And the way he kissed her, as if he were so famished that she was the only vessel for replenishing his spirit?
I can barely stand it.

His thrusts became more powerful the more he overtook her. His shadow dominated Monica’s world, her nose buried in his scent and her legs locked around his hips. Henry fit so easily into her now. The more they made love, the easier it became for Monica to take him into her body and not have to think about the consequences of giving her heart to a man like him.

“Henry,” she whimpered, her nails scratching a trail down his shoulder blades. “I’m…”

Her words were cut off by a moan echoing in the enclave between their bodies. Henry grunted against her – his cock held firm inside her, and nothing, not even the end of the world, could have stopped him from pinning her to his bed and filling her with his seed for the final time that night.

For once he was louder than her. Monica bit back her cries and listened to him release his urges into her, at first eager, and then so determined that the bed creaked and their wet skin created a familiar sound that lulled Monica right into another orgasm.

“Yes!” she cried, her fingers clawing at his back and her next shout trapped in her throat. Long, steady strokes slammed into her as Henry lost his mind and his ability to withhold orgasm. Monica anticipated and welcomed the warmth filling her body until Henry had to stop and slowly pull from her.

They collapsed into each other’s arms, their harried breaths only interrupted by a kiss here and a sigh there. As Henry dozed against her neck, his legs and arms entwined with hers, Monica had to admit that she never felt safer. It had nothing to do with the mansion, or the money, or the privacy in such a large home. It had everything to do with the way Henry held her, as if she were the most precious being in the universe.
I’m not a princess. I’m a queen.
Queen of the wolves, and this was the mate helping her protect her life.

Chapter 11

The Princess And The Dragon

“A girl could get used to living like this.” Monica rolled over in bed, extending her arm so she touched Henry’s wrist.

He got up from where he sat, his clothes mostly on but his tie still dangling around his neck. “Used to living like what?” Henry stood up straight, folding his tie this way, that, and then looping it downward.
Naked or dressed like that, I’ll eat him alive.
His navy blue trousers made Monica want to fling back the bed covers and remind him that she was naked.

And sore, but the sweet way Henry took care of her after their long night was almost as good as the sex itself. His tender touches, his kisses to her aching flesh, and the way he massaged her tiny bruises took her to a place of peace that she had yet to experience in such a long time.

“Used to living like a queen.”

“Not a princess?”

“I believe you were calling me a queen of wolves before a princess. Which is it?”

He bent down and kissed her cheek. Aftershave already on, he smelled like the million dollars he carried in his pocket at any moment.
I don’t really care about the money, but I care about the money.
Money was security. Money meant a certain lifestyle could be maintained. Money meant Henry could do what he did while Monica lay naked in his bed all morning.

“Depends on the day. You’re either about to bite someone or beg to be rescued. I follow the patterns.”

Monica sighed. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be back by lunch. Until then, there’s biscuits and tea in the other room. If you get hungry or need anything else, you’re free to call the butler. He’ll take care of you.”

“Not as good as
you
do.”

Henry scoffed and adjusted his cuffs. “Thank God. I’d have to fire him then.” His wink sent ripples of heat through Monica’s body. “He shouldn’t be going through my stuff like that.”

Monica sat up, keeping the comforter around her body – not that she was shy about showing Henry what he had seen many times by now. “Am I your stuff?”

“No. I was thinking of the crops and whips and whatever the hell else I’ve got hiding around here.”

He shrugged into his jacket and gave Monica one more kiss. “I’ve got video calls to make in my office a few doors down. When I get done, we’ll go have lunch in the back gardens. You’ll like them.”

Biting her lip, Monica rolled onto her stomach and huddled beneath the comforter. “Or I could stay right here.”

“Whatever you want, lovely.”

Henry patted her through the comforter before departing his quarters. The door closed gently behind him and locked – on the outside. Monica could easily unlock it. They weren’t playing any games today. Not yet, anyway.

Monica remained in bed for another fifteen minutes, enjoying the comfort and the sweet sunshine coming through the bedroom window. Even though Henry’s bed probably wasn’t any better than hers in the Château, it somehow seemed better. Probably because it was his. And smelled like him.

Eventually she had to get up, especially when she remembered that there was tea waiting in the other room. Monica pushed herself out of bed and searched for her red silk robe in her overnight bag. Once it was on she fluffed out her hair – now devoid of her curls – and went looking for the goodies.

The tea was Earl Grey, and the biscuits were, well,
English.
Monica poured herself a cup and took a biscuit to the nearest couch. She debated turning on the TV, but instead picked up her cell phone and read a message from Judith saying that everything went smoothly the prior night without her.

She called the first person to come to mind.

“If you’re calling me at ten on a Saturday morning, then something must be up.” Ethan sounded like he was halfway through his first cup of coffee. “So, what’s up?”

Monica brushed biscuit crumbs off her lap. “The best day of my life.”

“Congratulations. Dare I ask why?”

“Because…” Monica blushed, even though nobody was there to see her embarrassment. “I think I’m in love.”

The silence on the other end made her wonder if Ethan was about to chastise her. “With that Warren fellow?”

“Henry Warren, yes.”

“I see.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You sure you aren’t jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I told you not to go around falling in love all willy-nilly.”

“Indeed. Yet I feel like there’s a but coming on.”

“No buts. Just that… I did some digging on your boyfriend.”

“Of course you did.”

Whatever Ethan was eating, it probably wasn’t as good as these English biscuits. “Don’t know what you want me to say. He is beyond
boring.
No wonder I couldn’t remember him. Man sequesters himself in offices and signs off on buyouts and sells. Bunch of money simmering in the stock market and property investments.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“You know me, Monica. I like people who are go-getters and start innovative businesses. Seems your Mr. Warren saves all his innovations for the bedroom, not the boardroom.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Again, I’m happy for you.” The line crackled. Where was he going? “His whole family is boring, minus some events his father was involved in a long time ago. Oh, and I have it on good authority that Ms. Evangeline Warren has left a string of broken hearts and thighs in her wake. I suggest you don’t go falling for her Sapphic charms.”

“If your gay receptionist can’t fall for them, then I think I’m safe.” Eva wasn’t her type anyway.

“Regardless, I
am
happy for you. You deserve all the happiness and spankings in the world, my dear.”

“Don’t get me riled up again. Don’t think my current boyfriend would appreciate my ex doing that.”

“If he has a problem with me, he can come find me in the boardroom.”

“Ah, the pissing contests of the elite.”

“Better than drawing blood.”

Monica almost told him about the knife from the night before, but thought better of it. Instead she said, “Like how you and Jackson used to fight about nothing all the time?”

“Don’t go bringing him up. You need to stop thinking about him.”

She frowned for the first time in many hours. “It’s not that easy. Even with Henry, I am always thinking about
him.
”

“You’ll find that it goes away after a while.”

“How would you know?”

Ethan sighed. “Because it has to be true.”

They hung up a minute later, Monica promising to do her best to stop thinking of Jackson. Besides, she was in Henry’s manor. Nothing could touch her here.

She rose from the couch and took her tea to the window overlooking the front courtyard of the mansion. Across the way was the West Wing, where Eva lived – and currently stood on a balcony looking at the same courtyard as Monica.

Their eyes never met. Whatever Eva was looking at was more interesting than looking into the windows of her brother’s quarters.

Monica sipped her tea as Eva disappeared into the house.

And as a nondescript car pulled in from the driveway.

The driver remained inside until Eva showed up in the grand entrance. She stood, perched like a disapproving mother watching her teen’s walk of shame after a late night of partying. Between the hair, the body-hugging suit, and the stark makeup on her face, she even intimidated Monica.

Nobody intimidated Monica as much as the man stepping out of the parked car.

She dropped her empty teacup onto the carpet.

Her heart stopped in her chest.

Jackson Lyle closed the door, his hat slicing through the air as he approached the front steps to Warren Manor. Eva remained in place, nose turned up in the air.

Monica couldn’t hear what they said in greeting to one another. She didn’t want to know.

She held herself to the edge of the window, wishing to be seeing things. But Monica knew every angle of Jackson Lyle. She knew the way he stood, the way he carried himself when he thought he impressed somebody. That was him. Jackson, in his pastel suit and hands in his back pocket.

Eva said something and turned back into the house. Jackson took one step forward before glancing up toward the East Wing.