Free A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2) by Lena Black Page A

creeps higher, kneading the silk stocking covered flesh, never stopping his ascent. He finally reaches the bare skin above the lace top, inserting his finger between the delicate fabric and soft flesh, running it back and forth at a ridiculously slow pace. This repeated act, so close to my exposed slit, makes me very alert to his seductive presence.
    Finally, I feel the gentlest graze across my moist lips, and I whimper quietly, grasping the sides of my seat cushion.
    “I see you got the message,” he purrs, teasing my crease by lightly gliding his pinkie between the lips, going just deep enough to spread them slightly.
    “Yes, I did,” I answer, my head rolling back.
    Oh my fuck, yes. I’ve missed this, his touch.
    “That’s my girl.” He rips his hand away and sucks me off the tip of his pinkie. “Now, let’s finish eating.”
    My head flies up, and I stare at him with bemusement. He picks up his fork, appearing unfazed by the feel of my flesh beneath his fingertips, and stabs the other half of the prawn on my plate. He puts the fork to my lips and I take it, still in a daze.
     
    O nce we finish our delicious meal and engage in some captivating conversation, we sit back and enjoy our second glass of champagne. All through dinner, we’re serenaded by the masterful compositions of the greats, currently listening to one of my favorites, ‘Clair De Lune’ by Debussy. I don’t know why, but it always reminds me of spring, innocent love, life anew.
    As I ponder this thought, Hunt sets down his glass and rises from his chair, offering a hand for me to take. I know where this is going and grasp on gently. He pulls me into his arms, but instead of sweeping me about the room in some grand display of his skills on the dance floor, he holds me close so our cheeks lightly caress, swaying us in place.
    He runs his hand along my back, tickling me down the length of my spine, and lets out an extended breath. His other arm curls about the small of my waist while mine wrap about his large back, pulling myself as close to him as humanly possible.
    We remain this way, petting and swaying, until Hunt pulls away from me. He cups my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes.
    “I love you, Elle. I love you more than I could ever express.” My heart begins to beat rapidly and a nervous vibration rushes across my skin. “You are everything I want and will ever need…When you left me, I thought I was going to die. I mean, how could I live, when my reason to breathe just walked out on me? I’ve come to a decision that I hope you will agree to…”
    Suddenly, I become full-blown petrified, that old familiar panic ceasing me.
    He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t…He would.
    He reaches into his jacket’s inner pocket and before he can extract the mystery object, I blurt, “Damian, wait. I can’t do this.” I yank myself out of his grasp and take a step back. “I won’t marry you.”
    He appears stunned and hurt by my sharp words, but then it fades and morphs into amusement as a smirk plays across his lips.
    “Oh, Elle, you really can be quite difficult sometimes. If you had waited a moment more, you would have realized that’s not where I was going with my speech…well, not exactly.”
    He pulls out the iconic blue jewelry box from Tiffany and Co., and hands it to me, examining me as I open it hesitantly, floored by what I find.

Chapter Seven
     
    Collar Me Yours
     
    T he inch wide, solid platinum collar glistens in the golden flicker of the firelight, hypnotizing me. I notice there is a delicately engraved word on the side when the light plays across it. I pick it up to take a closer look, Hunt filching the box from my hand, and I’m able to read the intricate writing.
     
    Hunt’s
     
    There are no more words necessary. This one word, this name says it all. I stare down at the symbol of servitude, the symbol for Master and slave. There are a million thoughts flying through my head.
    They must show on my face because