The Dominator (The Dominator 1)

I blew out a long breath, “I paid already and yeah, I’m okay, thanks, Dex.”

“Next time the cab gets inside the gate before you get out, okay, Tia?”

“Okay, Dex.” I hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.

I walked up to the house and he opened the front door with a key. The house was dark. I looked in Tommy’s office and he wasn’t there. I went up to the bedroom. He wasn’t there. I went downstairs and found him beating up the punching bag. I hesitated, “Uh, hi.”

He didn’t hear me. Or he was ignoring me. I stepped around so he could see me. He did. He stopped and caught his breath and pulled the gloves off, “Baby!”

“Hi,” I approached him cautiously and he grabbed me and pulled me tight to him. He was drenched in sweat. I didn’t care. I put my arms around him, relieved he was putting his arms around me, not angry with me.

“You okay? How’d you get here?” He asked.

I nodded, “I’m okay. Cab.”

“Let’s go upstairs and you can fill me in. I’ll grab a fast shower. Join me?” He grabbed a bottle of water from the floor and took a glug, “I was going out of my mind not hearing from you so I was just killing time.” He motioned with his chin toward the punching bag. I was surprised he looked so calm.

I followed him to the bathroom and got out of my clothes. He looked down at me, “So too bad about that Brazilian…”

I looked down at my naked lower half and started to laugh. We both laughed hard and he pulled me into the shower and against his body. He got my face into his hands and was kissing me deeply. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pushed him against the wall and then I was devouring him. He reached behind us and turned the shower on, not breaking lip contact and at first the water was freezing. He adjusted the temperature, “At least we don’t have to wait till tomorrow,” he muttered, my earlobe in his mouth.

“Yeah, and now I know when your birthday is,” I answered and he released my lobe and looked at me with a tilted head, “And I don’t think I could’ve waited. I need you,” I said and put my hands on his rear and ground my hips against him, up on my tippy toes trying to get better contact. He bent his knees and lifted me onto his shaft, sliding right in. He turned us and got my back against the wall and man, it was just what I needed.

In bed a while later, lying face to face on our sides naked, one hand flat against his his chest, the other tracing the lines of the ink on the other shoulder, trailing down his arm, I told him all about my day. He listened, while sifting his hands through my hair and up and down my back, his lips against my forehead the whole time. I could feel his expression changes, smiles, lip tightening, soft kisses when I told him about meeting my cousin and how it felt really nice to have family, when I told him how much I liked his sister.

At the end, I said, “At first I thought it was a test.”

He loosened his grip on me and I saw his smile instead of felt it, “That would’ve been the ultimate test.”

“Mmm hmm,” I answered with disapproval, “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m done testing you, baby. And I never would’ve done that sort of test.”

“My Dad, Tommy; that’s fucked.” I couldn’t believe how calm he’d been about all of this, how trusting he’d been of me. It was such a relief.

“Yeah, you know what else is fucked?”

“What?”

He was thoughtful for a beat, then said: “Forget about it; you don’t wanna know.” He got up and got into a clean pair of boxers and then poured two glasses of wine.

“What? Tell me, please. Wait I don’t think I should have a drink yet. I haven’t had a single thing to eat today.”

“I’ll order pizza.” He reached for his phone, “Greg O’Connor just signed his own death warrant.”

“No.”

He raised his index finger to me as he started to talk on the phone and placed the order for an extra-large double cheese, pepperoni, bacon, and mushroom pizza with someone he obviously knew. When he ended the call, he resumed the conversation, “People’ll want him dead.”

My expression dropped. He paused a conversation talking about my father getting dead so he could order a pizza? How messed up was his life to even make that sort of thing seem so casual?

“Sorry, Tia, but this is it. When certain people get wind of this, that’s it.” Tommy motioned by drawing a horizontal line across his neck with his index finger.

“Shit.” I put my hand over my mouth.

“’Fraid so.”

“Fuck!”