His Games, Her Rules

I knew sooner or later, that my past is going to catch up with me and they are going to find me, but not this soon. The minute I heard her voice, I ended the call and blocked the number. Knowing I may not be safe outside and they could be watching me, I hurry back into the club and book a ride. I return to the bar and order more alcohol shots even though I’m a hundred percent sure my body can’t handle more alcohol.

I have to. I need to. My hands are clammy and the hairs on my back are all standing out. I’m paranoid, scared, and angry. How did she get my number? Who gave her my number? I’ve been careful, there was no way they’d found me this sooner, maybe a few years from now and not today. Have they been watching me and I didn’t know?

How did she even get my number?

I throw my head back and gulp two shots at the same time. I scrunch my face when the liquid burns my throat. My head is pounding already and I’m more agitated than I was earlier.

I grab the third shot but a hand shoots out to take it from my hand before I can bring it to my lips. I whip my head around, ready to give this person a piece of my mind, but a pair of blue eyes that have been haunting my dreams appear in my vision.

“What’s going on?” Dominique asks as he looks at me, with genuine care in his eyes as he plants the drink back on the counter.

“I’m fine. Just allow me to drink in peace.” I slur my words and reach for another shot.

Dominique holds my wrist before I can reach for the drink.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“I’m fine, Dom. I’m not drunk.” I slur every word as Dominique wraps his arms around my waist and carries me off the barstool.

“Do me a favor and not cause a scene.” He whispers into my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.

I scoff. What a fucking jerk.

With his hand laced with mine, Dominique leads me toward the exit. Once we step out of the club, he pulls out a key fob from God knows where and presses it. A car beeps at the corner of the parking lot. He opens the passenger door of a black sports car and gently pushes me in. I hear him curse under his breath as he shuts the door after me. He walks past the front side of the car and opens the driver’s door as he enters, slamming the door shut.

“You’re being a dick, you know that?” I ask, my head leaning against the car seat as I close my eyes. I am too tired and drunk with my head pounding to give him a piece of my mind.

If I wasn’t drunk out of my mind right now, I would be hitting something really hard and living with the pain later. Right now, I’m too drunk to even yell. The car is moving, thank God. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving but I suddenly sit up when I feel something in my throat.

“I am gonna throw up.”

“Fuck.” Dominique quickly pulls the car to a stop at the corner of the road and pushes a button.

I push my side door open, with my hand leaning against the car door as I throw up my gut. I feel a strong hold on my hair and it takes me a minute to realize Dominique is holding my hair out of my face and also in case I fall out of the car and hit my face against the pavement.

“How much did you drink?” Dominique asks. He sounds exasperated. He’s probably tired of me.

I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but instead, vomit pours out of my mouth. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut in frustration.

“Fuck.” Dominique curses.

I pull back a little when I start to dry heave and there’s nothing else left to vomit. Dominique lets go of my hair as I sit down properly in the car and shut the door. Or I try to. Dominique reaches forward and shuts my side door for me.

God, I need a bath. And maybe meds. And later wish that the ground could open up and swallow me.

My strands are everywhere, some of them covering my face and I’m too tired to care. Dominique exhales, leaning over the center console as he holds my face and turns it to face him. He pushes my hair out of my face as he wipes my mouth clean of vomit with a handkerchief.

I mutter a weak “Thank you,” as Dominique pulls away, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

The car starts to move again and I slip into a slumber. When I awake again, I’m in Dominique’s arms and we’re in a living room. He’s walking. I blink my eyes open to realize we’re in our penthouse suite. Dominique looks down at me in his arms, worry clouding his beautiful orbs as he looks up ahead to wherever he’s taking me. He stops to walk as he gently puts my feet on the floor. We are in the bathroom.

My head is throbbing and my mouth tastes weird. My throat hurts too and I’m dizzy. This feels like deja vu. Me getting drunk at Club Rogue and Dominique brought me home while he allowed his Housekeeper to take care of me. The difference between tonight and that night is that his housekeeper isn’t here and we are in a hotel room. And I still feel like shit.

“You threw up in your dress,” Dominique says, his voice calm and soothing my nerves.

“Yeah.” I sigh, masking my embarrassment with a nervous chuckle as I bite down on my bottom lip. I can’t look him in the eye because I’m ashamed and I can barely stand on my own two feet.

God, I feel stupid.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna have to undress you and bathe you. If you haven’t noticed you can barely stand on your own two feet.”

A lazy smile escapes my lips as I lock eyes with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s being a gentleman. A trait I actually admire in him.

“I don’t mind, Dom. We’ve fucked, remember?” I raise my eyebrows as I stare at him.

If I was anywhere close to being sober, I wouldn’t let him undress me, not to mention bathe me. With a blank expression on his face, Dominique slowly pulls down the zip from the side of my dress. I’m wearing a strapless dress with no bra underneath, so there isn’t any hard work to be done.

Dominique lets go of the zipper as he slowly tugs down at my dress. The dress falls to my feet and I step out of it. Dominique holds the waistline of my panties and he pulls it down with one hand, his hand skimming over my skin. He bends down a little to pull the lace material down my knees and it falls to my feet. I step out of my panties and kick them aside. Dominique bends down as he starts to remove my shoes. I put my hand on his shoulder to steady my weight as I looked down at him.

I can’t read the expression on his face but one thing is clear; Dominique isn’t turned on by the idea of undressing me or me being naked. It’s like he can’t see me naked. After he removes my shoes, he stands upright and removes his jacket. Dominique holds the hem of his shirt and pulls it above his head and tosses it aside.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Getting in the shower with you. I’m not gonna bathe you with my clothes on.”

This must be a joke.