Chapter Five #2
Dom immediately stiffened, his expression shifting to that practiced model mask she'd seen in magazines.
"No.” She lowered the camera. "That's exactly what we don't want."
"It's what I do," he said curtly.
"Well, stop doing it." She circled him, studying his defensive posture. "Colleen's notes say the brands want authentic. That's not authentic."
His fists clenched. "This is me being professional."
"This is you being a robot." She clicked off a few shots, showing him the LCD screen. "Look at that. You look like a mannequin in an expensive suit."
He glanced at the images, his mouth hardening into a thin line. "Fine. What do you want?"
"I want you to forget the camera exists. Talk to me about Milan. About why you really did what you did."
"You saw me.”
"Let me hear your side of the story." She kept the camera ready but didn't raise it. "Tell me what you were really thinking when you saw that photographer stalking your sister."
His hands clenched into fists. "I was thinking about finding him in a dark alley."
"There we go." She snapped a quick shot, catching the dangerous glint in his eyes. "More of that."
He realized what she'd done and scowled. "You're manipulating me."
"I'm doing my job." She grinned. "You know, for all the industry's talk about authenticity, most of you are terrified of actually showing any real emotion. It's pathetic, really."
"Pathetic?" Dom's eyebrows shot up.
"Completely. Here you are, this powerful man who literally destroyed a fifty-thousand-euro camera to protect someone he loves, and you're afraid to let people see that you have feelings." Maya shrugged, camera ready. "It's almost sad."
He stepped closer, his eyes flashing with irritation and something like amusement. "You're trying to provoke me."
"Is it working?" She captured his almost-smile in her lens.
"You're a brat," he said, but there was humor in his voice now, the mask finally cracking.
"And you're a snob." She lowered her camera, grinning at him. "Did you know that some male models spend more time on their skincare routine than most women? I bet you have at least seven different serums in your bathroom."
Dom's laugh burst out of him before he could stop it—rich, genuine, transforming his entire face. Her finger moved instinctively, capturing the moment when Dominic Valenti looked like a man instead of a brand.
"Got it," she said softly, reviewing the shot.
"Let me see." He moved to look at the camera's LCD screen.
She turned the camera so he could see the image. In it, Dom looked powerful and genuine—no trace of the polished model, just a man who was confident in his own skin.
"That's what I'm talking about," she said. "This is the man people need to see."
He stared at the image, something shifting in his expression. "I look..."
"Like yourself," she finished. "Like someone worth knowing."
Dom placed his hand on the small of her back, his touch possessive. "You have a talent for seeing things others miss."
"I need props," she said, stepping away from him before she lost her professional focus entirely. "Something that shows your personal side—books, music, things that reveal who you are when you're not working."
"Storage room’s over there," Dom said, pointing to a door behind the backdrop.. "Everything's organized by type. Take what you need."
Maya nodded and headed toward the storage area, pushing through the door into a smaller room lined with shelves of photography equipment. She was looking for personal props when she spotted an ornate wooden chest tucked behind some unused backdrops.
Curious, Maya opened the lid and immediately gasped.
The chest was filled with silk restraints in jewel tones, leather cuffs lined with soft suede, and implements that spoke to sophisticated tastes and extensive experience. At the bottom, wrapped in black velvet, was a flogger with falls that looked like they'd been crafted by an artist.
Maya lifted the flogger, examining its exquisite craftsmanship. This wasn't a prop or novelty—this was a tool designed for serious pleasure.
"Find something interesting?"
Maya spun around.
"I found these,” she squeaked.
Dom stepped into the storage room, closing the door behind him with deliberate intent. "Couture keeps certain amenities for guests with sophisticated tastes."
"And you have sophisticated tastes?"
"I have very specific tastes. The question is whether you're ready to discover what they are."
Maya's pulse quickened as she looked down at the flogger in her hands, then back at Dom. "What we did this morning..."
"Was just the beginning," Dom said, stalking closer. "I can teach you things that will blow your mind, Maya. But only if you're brave enough to let me."
The challenge in his voice sent heat flooding through Maya's core. She should be intimidated, but instead she lifted her chin defiantly.
"What makes you think I'm not brave enough?"
Dom's eyes shone with approval and hunger. "Prove it."
He moved to the chest, selecting items like a general choosing weapons. Silk scarves in deep blue, a leather blindfold, and a feather that looked designed for exquisite torture.
"Rule one," Dom said, his voice taking on an edge of steel. "When I'm in control, your body responds to me. Not your mind, not your fears—me. Are you prepared for that?"
Maya nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Use your words."
"Yes," Maya said. "I'm prepared."
"Rule two: I decide everything. When you come, how you come, if you come. Your pleasure belongs to me until I say otherwise. Understood?"
The possessive words should have alarmed her. Instead, they sent made her wet. "Understood."
"Good." Dom gestured to a padded bench near the wall, his tone brooking no argument. "Strip. Now."
“Here?”
“I said now.”
Maya hesitated for just a moment before reaching for the hem of her sweater.
Dom's eyes never left her as she undressed.
When she stood naked before him in the storage room's dim lighting, Dom circled her like a predator evaluating his prey.
His gaze was clinical, possessive, cataloging every curve and response.
"Perfect," Dom murmured, his fingers trailing along her shoulder blade with deliberate possession.
"But you're thinking too much. We need to fix that.
" Without warning, Dom's hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.
"When I touch you, you focus on nothing but the sensation.
When I speak, you listen. When I command, you obey. Clear?"
"Yes."
Dom guided her to a padded bench. "Lie down. Arms above your head. Don't move unless I tell you to."
Maya complied, watching as Dom selected one of the silk scarves. Instead of binding her wrists, he covered her eyes with the soft fabric, plunging her world into darkness.
"This is about control," Dom said, his voice seeming to surround her. "My control over your pleasure. Your trust in my dominance. Don't think—just feel."
Maya heard Dom moving around the small space. Every sound was amplified in the darkness—the whisper of fabric, the soft clink of items being arranged, the barely audible sound of his breathing.
"Tell me what you're feeling."
"Nervous," Maya admitted. "But excited."
"Good. Nervousness keeps you alert. Excitement keeps you open."
She heard him shuffle around the room. Opened and closed a cabinet. Then something cold touched her collarbone, making her gasp. "Do you know what this is?"
"Ice." Maya shivered as the cube traced along her throat.
"Very good. And this?"
The ice was replaced by something soft and warm—Dom's mouth, following the same path. Maya arched into the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Perfect response," he praised. "Your body is so honest when your mind can't interfere."
What followed was the most exquisite torture she had ever experienced. Dom alternated between ice and heat, between the soft caress of the feather and the firm pressure of his hands. He mapped every sensitive spot on her body, bringing her to the edge of climax again and again before pulling back.
"Please," she gasped when his tongue traced a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear. "I need—"
"What do you need?" he asked.
"To come. Please, I need to come."
"Not yet." His hands stilled on her body. "First, tell me why you want this. Why you're willing to surrender control to me."
She struggled to form coherent thoughts through the haze of arousal. "Because it feels right. Because when you're in control, I don't have to think or worry or be responsible for anything except feeling."
"And?"
"And because I trust you," she whispered. "I trust you to take care of me."
His sharp intake of breath told her she'd given the right answer. "Good girl. Now you can come."
His mouth covered her center and she shattered almost immediately. The orgasm crashed through her with stunning intensity, made more powerful by the sensory deprivation and extended teasing. She cried out his name, her back arching off the bench as waves of pleasure consumed her.
But he wasn't finished. Even as she was still coming down from her peak, he was moving up her body, kissing every inch along the way.
"Again," Dom commanded against her sensitive flesh, hot and demanding.
"I can't," she gasped.
"You can. You will." His fingers joined his mouth, finding spots that made her cry out. "Come for me again."
She shook as he worked her with relentless precision. Every touch was calculated to drive her higher, to push her past what she thought possible. When the second climax hit, it was harder than the first, leaving her trembling.
"Please," she whispered, not sure if she was begging him to stop or continue.
"Once more," he said. "Give me everything."
His mouth returned to her clit while his fingers moved inside her with devastating skill. Maya climbed again, impossibly fast, her body responding to his dominance even as her mind reeled. When she came the third time, it was with a sob of his name, her entire body convulsing with the intensity.
His touch gentled as he worked her through the aftershocks, his mouth pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs. Only when her body stopped shivering did he slowly remove the blindfold.
She blinked in the dim light, her vision hazy. Her limbs were liquid, her skin hypersensitive everywhere Dom had touched her. She felt the flush spreading across her chest, saw her own satisfaction reflected in Dom's eyes.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking her hair.
"Amazing," she breathed. "Like I'm floating."
"That's called subspace," he explained, pulling a soft throw from the chest to cover her naked form. "It's a natural high that comes from intense submission. You're going to feel very relaxed for the next hour or so."
She turned to study his face, noting the way his jaw was clenched with restraint. "What about you? You didn't—"
"This wasn't about me," he said, though she saw the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans. "This was about showing you what's possible when you trust me completely."
She reached for him, but he caught her hand gently. "We should get you dressed. Someone might come looking for us."
As she slowly put her clothes back on, her body still humming with satisfaction, she watched him carefully clean and pack away the implements they'd used.
There was something different about him now—not the careful distance from this morning, but a kind of focused intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Would you like to go out with me tonight? Somewhere special?"
"Are you asking me on a date?" she asked, feeling giddy and dizzy all at the same time.
"I'm asking if you'd like to see more of what I can show you," Dom said. "There's a place I think you'd find pleasurable."
She shivered at the way he said pleasurable. "What kind of place?"
Dom's smile was mysterious, dangerous. "A club. Very exclusive, very discreet. Somewhere we can explore what this is between us without worrying about professional boundaries or prying eyes."
Her pulse raced with anticipation and nerves. "Yes."
"I want to show you everything, but only if you want to see it." He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
Maya looked into his eyes, seeing the hunger there along with something deeper—a need that went beyond just physical desire. This was Dom offering to share his world with her, to let her see parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.
"I want to see everything."
Dom's smile was brilliant, transformative. "Good. Come to my room tonight at eight."