Dark Control (Dark Dominance 1)

Desperation. That word fit my feelings perfectly. My fear was that I’d grow desperate for all the wrong things, things he had no intention of giving me, things like love, sincerity, and connection. I rested my face against his neck and tried not to think about that now. I just drifted, safe in the circle of his arms.

Chapter Twenty-One: Fort

When we left The Gallery, I took her home to my place, made her spend the night in my bed even though I recognized her need to “process,” to be alone. This had been her first time at The Gallery, and I’d pushed her harder than I meant to, so I couldn’t say goodbye at the door as I had with my previous subs.

Fuck.

She was nothing like any of my previous subs. From the moment we arrived at The Gallery, that was obvious, and every other Dom took notice. I’d barely been able to stomach sharing her, even though sharing was usually a big part of the fun for me. When she’d told Milo I belong to him, I could hardly handle it, except to fuck her harder, faster, deeper. I couldn’t deal with such loyal, abject submission when I’d done so little to deserve it.

Now I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t make her leave. I had to have her near me, because I didn’t want to sleep without her. I felt energized beyond physical capability, and sickened by my need to have her close.

I liked order and independence, and my thing with Juliet wasn’t fucking orderly. It wasn’t neat and predictable like watch gears working, clicking into place.

I gazed down at her exhausted face and thought how fragile and asymmetric her features were. From the moment I saw her, I thought she was beautiful, but I didn’t realize all the other layers I’d discover beneath those jewel-blue eyes and tousled brown curls. Those damned over-the-knee socks.

She was too much for me and I knew it, but I couldn’t let her go. At least not yet.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Juliet

I woke the next morning trapped by an octopus. No, it was only Fort, his arms and legs all over me, heavy with sleep. The sun was bright, blinding. How long had I slept? Was it afternoon already?

“What time is it?”

Fort opened his eyes and reached to tap his tablet, squinting at the display. “Eleven forty-five.”

“Shit. Half the day gone already. Although your bed felt pretty good.”

He sat up, looking as bleary as I felt. My bones and muscles were practically creaking. Also, my phone was dead.

“Can I borrow your charger?” I asked. “Sorry. If you need me out of your hair…”

“No, charge away. At least enough to make it home.”

He took my phone and plugged it in beside his bed. I blinked sleep from my eyes, pulling the covers up, feeling weirdly naked in front of a guy who’d seen every part of my body the night before. Even his friends had seen every part of my body. Not only that, but I had nothing to wear home but fetish lingerie and a flasher coat.

“So…” He looked at me, equally uncomfortable with our morning after. “Have you processed at all?”

“The only processing I’ve done so far was sleeping,” I admitted. “I was so wrung out last night, I barely remember going to bed.”

He touched my arm, gave me an awkward kiss on the forehead. He was the one who’d insisted I sleep here, so I had little sympathy for his morning-after unease.

“Can I use your guest room shower?” I asked.

“Sure.” He finally seemed to come awake. “I’ll get you a t-shirt and some pants to put on. They might be a little big, but you probably don’t want to put your Gallery clothes back on.”

I made a face. “I’d rather not, until I get them cleaned. Actually, can you take something like that to the cleaners?”

Fort eased out of bed and crossed to his closet. “From what I understand, it’s better to hand wash everything.” He disappeared inside and came out with a shirt and sweatpants that were far too long for my frame. Well, I could roll up the pants. It was the thought that counted.

“I promise I’ll get these back to you soon. Maybe next time we…” My voice died out. We hadn’t officially discussed whether there would be a next time. Part of me wanted another adventure at The Gallery, but part of me felt like it would be dancing on the edge of a cliff. For a place that was supposed to be pleasure-without-strings, it gave me all the feelings.

“Okay, anyway…” I scooted off the bed, wincing at the residual soreness. Fort took my arm, stopping me before I could leave the room.

“Let me look at you.” He turned me, brushing a hand over my bottom with a low whistle. “Someone did a number on you last night, Sparkles. Your ass is a mess.”

“I’m pretty sure that someone was you.” I smiled in answer to his undisguised delight. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“Yes, very. Don’t pass out when you look in the mirror.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Just like that, I really wanted to go to The Gallery again. I went into the bathroom—which I was starting to think of as “my” bathroom—and turned my ass to the mirror. God, it was something to behold. Lines and bruises, none of them overly garish, no broken skin, but still, it looked awful. I understood his satisfied expression now. There was something about the pleasure he took in his sadistic conquests, and of course, I found pleasure in them too.

I took a long shower, cleaned up, and put on the clothes he’d lent me. They looked silly on my shorter frame, but they were soft, which was a boon to my sore and sensitive skin. When I returned to his bedroom, he was dressed also. Jeans? Sigh, it would be days before I could tolerate jeans. He was putting my coat on a hanger, with my uniform pieces in a bag underneath.

“Hey, you should probably look at your phone,” he said over his shoulder. “A buttload of messages came through as soon as your phone powered on. I didn’t read them. Okay, I glanced at the last few. Your boss is a loon.”

“Goodluck texted me?” He didn’t do that very often. He preferred showing up at my apartment at all hours and banging on my door. But if he hadn’t been able to find me…

I scrolled through to the beginning of the text storm, noting the liberal use of emojis and capital letters.

“Crap, he’s been looking for me since last night.” I’d set my phone to silent, and neglected to check my messages before I fell into Fort’s bed. “Sometimes he just really wants to talk about things.”

“He seemed to want to talk about candlelight,” Fort said, looking over my shoulder.

I lit a candle. Please come see.

STARCOMET

COME SEE

After that he texted three flame emojis, and a dozen or so exclamation marks.

Pls answer SC. You have never seen anything like these dancing shadows.

The texts went on, two dozen or more about five minutes apart, talking about candles and scents, and how flames could be magic. He asked me repeatedly how he’d never noticed this magic before. Someone who didn’t know him would assume Goodluck was high, but he never used drugs.

I scrolled down to the most recent ones.

Why aren’t you answering me? I need to talk to you.

I’m going to do a show w/candles. Theme of candles, light on people’s faces. OK?

OK??????

He followed that with alternating skull and fire emojis, three solid lines.

PLS ANSWER ME

YOU KNOW I AM YOUR BOSS

I just lit another candle. The flame is like a new spirit, calming me.

Sorry I was angry.

I AM STILL ANGRY WHERE ARE YOU