Dominated

Chapter 22

Nothing inside Downtown Tavern was strong enough to wipe away the image of Amelia kissing another man. As Damien sat at the bar with his head hung low, staring at the quartz surface, he swirled the ice in his cup. He was working on his second glass of scotch, but the alcohol still couldn't make him forget what he'd witnessed only three days ago. The memory remained fresh in his mind and replayed in his head no matter how hard he tried focusing on the drink in his hand.

He was in the middle of taking another sip when he felt a hand move across his shoulders and over the length of his arm. He instantly recognized the woman who appeared beside him.

She was wearing her infamous red boots and a white wool trench coat that hardly covered her chest. Her lips were painted a dark shade of purple that bled at the corners, and her brunette hair was pinned up in a loose, unkempt bun.

Reign Masterson remained ageless years later, but Damien couldn't remember what had attracted him to her in the first place.

He assumed it was her undeniable beauty, but as he gazed at her, he was completely unaffected by her appearance. Her striking gray eyes had once compelled him to commit unspeakable acts during their arrangement, and he had memories of all the places of his body that her bottom heavy lips had touched, but he found no pleasure in remembering their time together. She was simply another submissive from his past.

"I can't say I'm surprised to find you here," Reign said, seating herself beside him. "Where's your little girlfriend?"

He sipped from his glass and grimaced at the bitter taste on his tongue, but it wasn't enough to stop him from taking another drink before answering. "If you're referring to Amelia, she's at home like the good girl she is."

He didn't know that to be a fact, but he hoped it was true.

"Is that what she is — a good girl?" Reign asked.

"You seem to have an issue with that."

"You never called me that," she said dishearteningly. "I just wanted to know that I was good enough for you."

"You played your role well," he responded, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Because you were the best dom I've ever played with," she confessed. She stroked his forearm and licked her lips, attempting to appear seductive. "As hard as I've tried to recreate what we had, no one compares to you."

He chuckled and pried her hand off his arm, shaking his head. He could tell that she didn't like his reaction because she frowned. "I'm with Amelia. You'll have to move on."

Panic set in her eyes when he slid off his seat and grabbed the jacket hanging off the back of his stool. Unable to watch him leave, she grabbed his elbow, halting his actions. "She won't keep you satisfied, but I can."

She moved in front of him and ran her hand over his chest. "I know what it takes to be your submissive and how to please you. Isn't that what you want — to be pleased?"

Damien glared at the hand moving down his torso, exploring the areas of his body that she was no longer permitted to touch. He circled his hand around her wrist and peeled it off, holding it in the air as he leaned in close.

"That's enough, Reign," he barked. His voice was deep and gruff, and his breath was warm against her skin. He knew she found pleasure in his roughness, and it was evident when she smiled. But he maintained his composure as he released her and inhaled deeply.

"You're angry," she observed. "But not with me. You're angry at yourself."

He didn't give her the satisfaction of responding. Instead, he pulled on his jacket and stormed off. He could hear her calling his name as he searched for the exit, but he ignored her.