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Dominate Me Book 3
A. X. Foxx
Copyright 2016: A. X. Foxx
All rights reserved. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Racy Romance is a standalone short story that is filled with dominating men and a single submissive young white virgin being eaten out while being watched.
This story contains scenes of exhibitionism, bdsm, and gangbangs. If hardcore sex, bondage, and gangbangs aren't your thing, then this may not be the book for you.
The first gift arrived at the cafe where I worked in the form of a dozen red roses... and a single diamond pendant necklace in a hidden in an envelope midst the roses. It fell into my open palm with a solidness that worried me.
"Someone's got a secret admirer," my coworkers teased playfully, drawing towards me to admire the beautiful red roses that was mildly scented with a sweet perfume. The teasing stopped the moment they saw the necklace. Even to our untrained eyes, it looked expensive. The chain was made of tiny circular silver rings the glimmered in the light.
Hanging from the end was the diamond pendant that seemed to emit light rather than reflect it.
There was just awed silence as I held the pendant up to the light. It shone with an unnatural brightness that made my heart tighten and my fingers tremble. It looked real.
"That's... fake, right?" someone said, voicing what everybody was thinking.
"It's got to be," I mumbled, letting the girls have a closer look at the necklace while I pulled out the contents of the envelope.
There was a piece of paper in the envelope and instead of a card or a note, there was a diamond certificate telling me the carat weight (2.5 Ct.), color grade (D), clarity grade (VS1) and cut grade (Excellent). There was even a report number, laser inscription registry, and other various details that I didn't quite understand. I gulped, wondering where the mysterious gift had come from.
"It's real," Tanya gasped, quickly handing the necklace back to me. It felt surreal.
I held the diamond between my forefinger and thumb. The slight pinch of the sharp edges of the shimmering gem assured me that I wasn't dreaming.
My first thought that someone had stolen my credit card details to purchase the necklace was quickly squashed by the knowledge that this was real diamond. Even my maxed out credit card couldn't possibly be enough to purchase something as extravagant as this.
"This has got to be a mistake," I said to the flower delivery man, who was still standing in the small cafe. He looked too well dressed to be a flower delivery man, what with his buttoned up tux and all. At first I thought it was an outfit, but the more I looked at him, the more I realize that he was waiting for a response of some sort from me. Should I be tipping him?
"If you don't want it, I'll take-" Daphne's hand that reached forward to grab the chain of the necklace was promptly held by the muscled man.
"There is no mistake," he said, his voice a stressed deep tone that sent shudders all the way down my spine.
He released Daphne's hand and sent her a glare that could've melted glaciers.
"Alright fine, it's hers. I was just kidding around," she faked a laugh and rubbed the ache from her wrist. I gave the stranger a thankful look. Everyone knew Daphne wasn't kidding around. She's been known to just take things she fancied and not giving them back. I put the necklace into the envelope carefully.
"This is too much," I held the envelop to him. "I can't accept this."
"Mr. Hunter would like your company for dinner," he said, ignoring my outstretched hand.
I lowered my hand reluctantly. "Mr. Hunter?" I murmured, the name not clicking in my mind. It sounded only vaguely familiar, like an acquaintance of an acquaintance instead of a name that I should know.
"Yes, he wants to show you the last painting he purchased," he said in a way to jolt my memory. It worked.
My face flamed red as I remember exactly who Mr. Hunter was. I met him a few months ago during a trip to the local art gallery. It started off innocently enough but ended with his hands between my legs, fingers spreading me wide...
I let the familiar sense of calmness envelop me as I stared at the yellow corn field. The dark sky behind the windy field was filled with crows that felt it they were coming towards me to take whatever happiness I had left.
Like all his other paintings, this one reflected the intense emotional turmoil that was racking him. Pain. Confusion. Panic. All emotions I was all too familiar with.
I wondered if Van Gogh knew this was going to be one of this last paintings.
"Find what you love and let it kill you," I murmured.
"That's a wonderful quote," a gruff voice said from beside me. I jumped in surprise and stumbled away from the source of the sound. Of all the times I had been to the museum, I have never had company before. My heartbeat sped up immediately when I realized that not only did I have company, it was company in the form of a handsome man.
My eyes widened as I stared at him. He looked at least twenty years my senior, which puts him in his late thirties. His composure was stoic, sure of himself. His suit looked tailored and expensive. There was a tattoo peeking up from his collar and tattoos on his left hand. Angry black rings adorned his rough fingers. He looked like mafia gang leader of some sort. There was almost a regality to the way he held himself.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said.
I nodded, trying my best not to stare at the well-dressed man who looked so out of place in the slightly debilitated museum. It was an old building filled with old pictures, each one easily costing more than my entire week's salary.
"It's alright," I said, willing my heartbeat to go back to normal but it was beating fast for a different reason altogether now. He was staring at me with an intensity that scared me.
"Have you found what you love?" he asked.
"I don't think anyone has," I whispered.