The CEO

DOMINIC

“What are we doing here again?” I ask. The four of us normally frequent my brother’s club, Dirty Thoughts, but tonight Luke insisted on doing things the vanilla way.

I don’t get an answer from my friends; Eric is already at the bar chatting up a brightly dressed blonde, and Matt and Luke are close behind.

“Luke!” I call, and my best friend turns to me with an eye roll. “What are we doing here?” I repeat.

“I already told you. What fun is Mitch’s place without girls we actually like? You said it yourself, the subs there were getting stale.”

“And you think I’m going to find a submissive here?” I question him.

“Maybe you’ll just meet a nice girl,” he suggests.

I roll my eyes. I doubt it. No “nice girl” could possibly be enough to satisfy my wild, dominant urges; that’s why I’ve been a regular at my brother’s club for my entire adult life.

“Look,” he says, “if nothing else, changing up the routine will be a good distraction. You’ve been driving yourself crazy getting ready for this merger with Roberts Enterprises. You deserve a night off.”

“Fine,” I sigh, “I’ll behave. But I’ll still complain about it.”

“I’d expect nothing else,” Luke says with a grin.

We reach the bar, and Eric turns to us with a shit-eating grin, “Guys, this is Claudia.” He wraps an arm around the blonde’s waist, adding, “And she has three friends.” Of course she does.

Eric charms Claudia enough for her to lead us to her table and introduce us to her friends. I order myself a whiskey; I have a feeling I’ll need it if I’m going to be spending the evening chatting up basic, vanilla girls in some doomed experiment.

I catch up with the guys just in time for them to be partnering off.

My eyes flit over the girls sitting in the booth: a shy-looking brunette, a fiery redhead. But my attention catches and snags on the blonde in the corner of the booth, staring off into space.

I find myself wanting to know what’s on her mind.

We talk, we make our introductions, we stare heatedly into each other’s eyes; I’m not sure what it is about this girl that pulls me in so strongly, but the magnetism is undeniable.

Take control of the situation, I command myself. ~Be dominant but not domineering. Ask her to dance. Holding her should satisfy your craving.~

Scarlett tries to argue, but I don’t take no for answer. On the dance floor, holding her against me, against all odds I find myself craving vanilla.

When her friend calls, I lead her out to the front of the club, ready to let her go and make sure she gets home safely.

I’ll give her my number. Maybe I could take her on a date before—

My thoughts are cut off by lips. Scarlett’s lips. They’re against mine. As her arms wrap around my neck, I lift her effortlessly. In that moment, all my best intentions evaporate. I’m not letting her go home alone.

***

I slide Scarlett into my waiting car without breaking the kiss, signaling my driver Rob with my free hand. He pulls away from the curb without comment.

I press the button for the divider, a small, black curtain of privacy. Ordinarily I wouldn’t find myself making out in the back of a limo. Ordinarily my date, my sub, would have to earn such a privilege. The ride home would be filled with edging and denial.

Instead, I find myself unable to pull away from Scarlett. The idea of disappointing her, of pulling away and seeing her face drop, has me kissing her even more passionately.

Sliding her into the limo with her legs wrapped around my waist means she’s now seated directly on my cock, grinding her heat against me. By the time we reach my apartment I’m rock-hard, pushing against my trousers.

Entangled, we leave the limo and take my private elevator to my apartment. “Jeans off,” I order mid-kiss as the elevator doors open to reveal my penthouse.

“Huh?” She stares at me, confused.

I pick her up bridal-style, carry her to my bedroom, and place her not-so-gently in the center of my bed.

“If you don’t want me to rip them. Jeans off…please.” It unsettles something in me, saying “please” in a moment like this. Submissives plead. Dominants command.

The next sight has me clenching my fists to keep from coming right there and then. She unbuttons her jeans before rolling over and up onto all fours to slide them over her ass, revealing a black G-string and one very smack-able ass.

Oh, what I would do to one of my subs for teasing me like that. But Scarlett’s not a sub. She’s used to vanilla, and I don’t want to scare her off.

“Nic?” Scarlett’s voice breaks my inner monologue, and when my eyes focus again I lose track of any frustration I might’ve been feeling.

Laid out on my bed, she’s a present to be unwrapped, and unwrap is exactly what I do. First, I slide my jacket off and pull my tie from my neck. Then, leaving both discarded on the floor, I crawl up between her legs and run my hands up her now-bare thighs.

Taking hold of the bottom of her top, I tear it. Scarlett gasps. The material rips effortlessly in half, revealing a red, polka-dot bra. That bra is just begging to go the same way as her top.

I tug, and one of the cups rips nearly in half, baring a perfectly palm-sized breast beneath it. Realizing I won’t stop there, Scarlett places a hand on my chest, pushing me backward as she reaches behind her and does that one-handed move to make her bra fall from her body.

“Perfect,” I say, taking one breast in each hand. “So fucking perfect.”

“Nic, I…” Scarlett trails off.

“I know, gorgeous.” I massage her breast, gently tweaking her nipples. My dominant side is excited to find out if she can handle the touch of pain, and to my delight she moans and arches into my touch. “I know what you need.”

While my hands are on her, ~her~ hands are on me. This is an unusual feeling. I can’t remember the last time I had sex with someone without restraints involved.

Her hands explore my back, pulling me closer. They grip and grab under my shirt. I imagine her cuffed to the headboard, hands unable to explore so freely. Vulnerable and at my mercy.

Then I take a deep breath, letting go of the dominant thoughts. Vanilla. We’re doing this vanilla.

I trail kisses down her stomach, and then those adventurous hands move into my hair. Her fingers comb against my scalp, and every now and then I feel her tug my locks. I growl at the spark of sensation—unexpected, but not unwelcome.

She pushes my head lower, and I go willingly, no longer knowing or caring whose idea this is; either way, when I nose against the red fabric of her G-string and smell her arousal, I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

My hands grip both sides of the flimsy fabric, tearing it neatly in two. She gasps.

Then a chuckle escapes her lips. “You’re wearing more clothes than me,” she states. When I glance back up at her she’s smirking, eyebrow raised.

I sit back on my heels, staring down at her gorgeous naked form. I slowly begin to unbutton my shirt and she groans.

“Problem?” I ask.

“Can’t you go any faster?”

I laugh. “Patience, sweetheart. Good things come to those who wait.”

I throw my shirt off before standing to unbutton and drop my pants. Scarlett lies ready and waiting, her eyes not-so-ashamedly staring at my hard-on. She moves to sit up, her hand reaching for me.

“No, you don’t,” I warn, leaning away. “It was still your turn.”

“Mine? What? Oh!” She squeals as my fingers swipe over her clit. She’s wet—dripping, in fact. Her noises spur me on. I insert a finger, and her hand grabs at my shoulders. “Oh, God!”

I lick my fingers before sending them in for another turn, and good God, I almost come from her taste alone. “Nic, I… What… Ah…” She strings together a series of words in a nonsensical sentence.

“You taste amazing,” I tell her, savoring the salty-sweet flavor on my tongue.

I swap from fingers to lips and press a kiss against the wet lips of her pussy. After only a moment of teasing I growl against her, her moans becoming too much. My tongue darts in, and that’s when I feel her come.

Her body shakes, releasing the orgasm she had been building up to. It startles me for a moment. Forces me back to the reality of the situation. I didn’t allow her to come. She didn’t ask permission, she didn’t beg for it. She just…came.

This is what vanilla sex is, I remind myself.

“Nic?” Scarlett’s voice pulls me back. “Is everything—”

“I’m clean,” I say, cutting her off.

“Excuse me?” she asks, clearly taken aback.

“I’ve been tested,” I clarify.

“Oh, right. Me too.”

“Can I?” I find I’m desperate for more, for everything I can take from her.

“What?”

“No condom,” I clarify, “just me and you.”

Scarlett takes my face in her hands and pulls it close to hers. Her lips take control of mine in a heated kiss.

“Please,” she whispers against my lips. I make my entrance, needing no further encouragement, and swallow her gasp in another kiss.

My only thought is pleasing her. Making Scarlett happy. Her hands explore me once again, and her nails drag down my back as I find my rhythm. This time, I don’t mind the adventurous hands; in fact, I relish them.

My hand drops to her folds, fiddling and teasing while I pump in and out. Scarlett peppers kisses along my neck. Between her hands, her kisses, and her tight pussy closing around me, I’m seconds away from exploding.

“Should I pull out?” I ask, trying not to break the mood.

“I’m—on the pill,” she gasps out.

My hand drops to her folds, fiddling and teasing. My cock moves in and out a few more times before I feel her clench even harder. She lets out a scream and I feel her come on my cock. I come apart seconds later.

I drop, flattening my body on top of hers, satisfied and spent.

“I should—go. Right?” says Scarlett after not nearly enough blissful post-coital silence.

“Go?” I echo. I think I might have blown my brains out with that orgasm. She wriggles around like she wants to sit up, and I grip on to her tighter. “Stay,” I growl. It’s all I can do to keep from tacking the word slave onto the command.

She freezes, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. But then she goes limp, settling back into my arms. “Kay,” she says drowsily.

It feels way too good to see her obey an order, even a simple one like this.

I might be in trouble.