The Dom's Rules: A Dark Contemporary BDSM Romance (The Pleasure Wars Book 2) Read online

  The Dom’s Rules

  The Pleasure Wars | Part Two

  Harper West

  Edited by

  Red Axe Editing

  Contents

  Dear Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  Also by Harper West

  About Harper

  Dear Reader

  Thanks so much for taking a chance on my word baby! I hope you love them as much as I do! I’m still new to this whole writing thing, but I’m hella excited to see what happens and have you join me on this journey!

  I hope you love sexy alpha males, and killer romance, as I’m a huge fan, so that’s what I’m writing about. Oh, and menage. I love me some menage, because it’s all about her, am I right ;)?

  Keep an eye out as I’ve got quite a few books I’ve been holding on to, coming out soon so make sure you sign up for my newsletter to stay informed!

  xoxo,

  Harper

  Chapter 1

  Ash

  “Oh, is it date night?” the hostess asked, all bright eyes and bouncy curls. “Thank you for choosing us. Follow me, and I’ll get you guys a great table.”

  I could feel Killian laughing behind me, and I knew if I turned around he’d be wearing one of those insufferable smiles that I hated, so I kept my eyes on the hostess’ back and followed her to a booth in a cozy corner.

  At least there weren’t candles or rose petals anywhere. I could ignore the low lighting and forced romantic atmosphere otherwise.

  She put menus down on the table when we sat and flashed that bubbly grin at us again. “Your server should be with you in a couple minutes,” she said. “Enjoy your night, guys!” And then with a wink she was flouncing off, probably to go embarrass other customers into wishing they’d gone to a fast food place with a drive through instead.

  I fiddled with my napkin and utensils, arranging them just so on the table so I could avoid looking up at Killian for as long as possible. When I finally ran out of things to distract myself with and glanced up at him, he was giving me the biggest grin and had one elbow on the table, chin in his hand.

  “Shut up,” I said before he could even open his mouth.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You were thinking things. Asshole things. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Let me remind you that you were the one who insisted on picking the restaurant tonight.”

  “Yeah, because when you do it, you pick places with names in French and no prices on the menus.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and I knew he was silently asking me why I cared about the prices when he was paying for it anyway, but he kept that question to himself, thank goodness. “And the wait staff have the decency to mind their own business,” he pointed out.

  I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. Whenever we went out to one of the stupidly fancy places he liked to eat at, we were never bothered. I wasn’t going to admit that, though. It was a Friday night, I’d had a long week, and the last thing I wanted to do when I got out of class was put on clothes presentable enough for a tasting menu at whatever trendy new restaurant Killian was investing in this time. I just wanted some hot, greasy food, and the place I’d picked was one of those that had cloth napkins and a hostess stand, but the food wasn’t anything special, and it was cheap.

  Honestly, I just liked to make Killian slum it a little when I got the chance.

  We’d been doing this thing for almost four months. And by ‘this thing’ I meant we’d been married for almost four months, which was a strange sentence even still.

  I had a ring that I kept in its velvet box in my dresser drawer, and Killian had his own band that he broke out when he felt it was appropriate. We had dinner together once a week and spent most weekends at his place, but it still felt weird to look across the table from him and think that’s my husband.

  Of course, our marriage was strictly a legal one. There was no love there. He annoyed me to hell and back, and I wasn’t shy about letting him know, but he was useful. Our marriage was an arrangement of convenience, and we were both getting something out of it. When the year was up, we’d both be richer and we could go our separate ways.

  I reminded myself of that while he was grinning smugly at me from across the table. We were a third of the way there, and I hadn’t killed him yet, so that was a good sign.

  “What is a ‘flowering onion’?” Killian asked, and his voice dripped with disdain like even saying the words was beneath him.

  So it was my turn to grin smugly at him while he looked at the menu. “Something delicious and deep fried,” I said. “We’re getting one. You’ll love it.”

  He looked dubious, and the look didn’t go away as he read through the rest of the menu, muttering things under his breath like “Prime rib, sure. I have my doubts,” and “In what universe does ‘cheese smothered broccoli’ count as a seasonal vegetable?”

  “Welcome to how the lower middle class eats,” I said, giving him my best grin. “I hope you have some antacids at your place because you will need them.”

  He opened his mouth to shoot something back, but was interrupted by our waiter who came over to take our drink and app orders. I took great pleasure in ordering a large frozen margarita, even if it was almost freezing outside, and the flowering onion and some wings to go with it.

  Killian looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, and I was suddenly in a much better mood.

  His money came in handy when it came to paying my rent and for my tuition, but other than that, it just made him unbearable, so it was nice to be able to assert myself and make him suffer a little in the process.

  He definitely deserved it.

  “I’m picking the restaurant next time,” he said. “I can’t suffer like this two weeks in a row.”

  I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “You’ll be fine, you big baby. One night of eating greasy shit won’t kill you. Live a little.”

  “I live a lot, thank you very much, and it doesn’t involve putting things with stupid names in my mouth.”

  I just lifted an eyebrow and let that low hanging fruit pass me by. “Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “I won’t be here next week, so you can go eat wherever you want.”

  Killian’s brows pulled down into a frown. “Where will you be?”

  “At my parents’ place?” I said. “For Christmas?”

  He blinked for a second like he was processing that information, and I tipped my head to the side, wondering where the confusion came from.

  It couldn't have passed him by that Christmas was in a little over a week. The restaurant we were in was playing rock versions of Christmas songs over the speakers, and it was cold as fuck outside. Every shop on the street we were on was decked out in holly and garland and lights, and there was even a large, inflatable Santa on the roof of the used car place across the street.

  Surely even rich assholes celebrated Christmas. How else did they get shiny new presents they could lord over the rest of us?

  "I didn't realize you were going away," he said finally. "Do you celebrate with your family every year, o
r is this just an excuse to get away from me?"

  That sounded more like the Killian I knew, and I rolled my eyes again. "Yes, Killian. I called my parents and demanded they cook Christmas dinner, just so I didn't have to spend the last part of the year in your presence." I laid on the sarcasm thick enough that even he couldn't miss it. "No, I go every year. There's always a big dinner, and my aunts and uncles and cousins all show up for a few days."

  Killian nodded. "That sounds... claustrophobic as hell, if I'm honest, but nice."

  I smiled into my glass of water. "Well, you're not really wrong. Being closed up in the house with my extended family is a headache most of the time, but it's just once a year. It's basically the only time I see all of them, and the only time I get to spend with my parents since I moved away, so it's worth it. And my mom's making her famous roast duck, and that's worth the flight over there all by itself."

  "That sounds nice," he said, and he actually sounded sincere.

  "I'm guessing you don't do anything with your family," I said.

  Killian snorted. "You guess right. I wouldn't want to subject myself to a holiday with my mother for anything in the world. When my father was alive we'd have a tree and decorations at least. He was very festive, even if he missed the point of the holiday, I think. There was a big dinner made by his cook and then he handed me an envelope with a check in it, and that was that."

  It sounded sad, honestly. Even if I was pretty sure Killian's Christmas check was probably more than I made in a month at two jobs, the lack of family and warmth in it made it seem superficial.

  Even if we didn't have money for gifts, my family always went all out. We'd had the same fake tree since I was a kid, and it was weighed down by the sheer amount of ornaments that my parents had collected over the years. Every year it came out of the closet and took its place of honor in their living room, right in the corner by the window, twinkling for all to see.

  My mom even still put up the stockings I'd made for us all when I was in third grade, threadbare and faded now, but she stuffed them with treats all the same.

  It was about coming together as a family and having that one time of year together now that we were all scattered away from each other.

  As much as my parents could drive me nuts sometimes, I treasured having that tradition.

  "So what do you do on Christmas?" I asked him.

  He shrugged a shoulder. "I usually pick up dinner for myself and spend it on the couch watching television. I buy myself something, send a card to my mother, and wait for the holiday season to finally be over."

  "How very Scrooge like of you."

  He shrugged again. "It's never meant anything to me, Ash. I didn't have the cozy family traditions you did."

  "That's fair," I said. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to be shitty about it."

  "It's fine. I don't think I'm missing out on anything. Family traditions aren't my thing, anyway. I'd rather treat myself to a new car and then eat my weight in Chinese food in front of the television anyway."

  "Whatever makes you happy," I said.

  Our food started coming out, and we had a distraction from the conversation. For someone who'd complained about the onion so much, Killian ate half of it, dipping each fried petal in the sauce and licking his fingers. He looked far away from the rich, fussed up person I knew he was, and it was funny to watch.

  Just to spite him I'd ordered the prime rib, and I drenched it in the gravy they provided, eating bites of the tender meat with a forkful of loaded mashed potatoes to go with it.

  Killian made a face and kept eating his salmon.

  After we'd made a dent in the food and started slowing down, he looked at me again. "So, your mom's roast duck and family coming in. What else do you do at Christmas?"

  "Why do you care?" I asked him. He'd just made it perfectly clear that he didn't have much interest in the holiday.

  "Humor me," he said.

  "Okay," I replied. "My dad makes breakfast on Christmas morning. The house is too small for everyone to stay, so they all get hotels or rent a house nearby and they come over around noon for the festivities and all. So breakfast is just me and my mom and dad. Dad makes three kinds of pancakes every year. Blueberry, chocolate chip, and cinnamon roll. He fries up a whole thing of bacon and make way too many eggs, and we sit around the table and stuff our faces."

  "Before or after presents?" Killian asked.

  "Before. We open presents in the height of the food coma. I don't know who decided that was a good idea, but it happens every year. We open presents and then we're too full to clean up the wrapping paper and stuff until like a quarter to noon when Dad puts on the second pot of coffee and Mom starts freaking out about cleaning up before everyone gets there."

  Killian listened while I described how everyone pitched into help get dinner going and how there were board games and video games to keep everyone occupied. I told him about how my one cousin always cheated at Scrabble and got called out for it every year, and how my uncle was always drunk by four in the afternoon and passed out on the couch after dinner without fail every year.

  It made me eager to get there and celebrate with everyone just talking about it, and I was glad I was leaving in a few days to spend Christmas and a few days after with my family.

  "You sound excited to see them," Killian said, and there was something wistful about the way he was smiling at me.

  He always talked like he'd made his peace with the way his family was, but I could tell there was a part of him that wished it could be different.

  "Yeah," I said. "I only see them once a year these days, so. It's nice."

  He nodded, finishing off the last bite of his food. "I hope you have a good time."

  "Thanks. I hope your Chinese food is as delicious as the onion you claimed to be horrified by."

  Killian made a face at me, and I laughed. The hostess wasn't wrong exactly, I supposed. We weren't a real couple, but it was kind of date night.

  Once Killian had paid the check, we bundled back up into our coats and scarves and gloves before heading back out into the elements.

  There was snow in the forecast, and I wasn't looking forward to being even colder and damp on top of it. Not to mention everyone in the damned city forgot how to drive once there was any amount of snow on the ground.

  "Are you going to tell your family your big news?" Killian asked as we walked to the car, and I frowned, diving into the passenger seat and mashing the button for the seat warmer. There was something to be said for his fancy remote start car, since it was already warm when we got to it.

  "What big news?" I asked, settling in and tucking my nose into my scarf, waiting to warm up. Even the short walk to the car had chilled me all the way through.

  "Oh, you know," he said, grinning over at me. "That you got married."

  "Fuck off," I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him like a real adult. "No I'm not telling them that. How the fuck would that sound? 'Mom, Dad, I know I didn't tell you and there was no wedding to invite you to, and you've never met the guy, which is for the best because he's actually terrible, but I got married. Don't worry, it's mostly so I can keep living in my apartment and going to school, so there won't be any grandkids or anything. It's all fine'. Yeah, that'd go over real well."

  "Mostly so you can keep living in your apartment and going to school?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yeah, there's also the bit about you needing to get the money from your dad and the nasty sex shit you're so insistent on."

  He laughed. "Merry Christmas to your parents if they find out about that."

  "They won't, because I'm not telling them. As far as they know, I'm as single as ever, and that's the way it's going to stay."

  It meant I'd have to deal with them asking me uncomfortable questions about if I'd met anyone at school or in my building the whole time I was there, but I preferred that to having to explain about Killian.

  My mom watched way too many made for TV movies, and she was always
expecting me to meet the love of my life in some kitschy way like running into him in the laundry room or having to stay late after class to work on something.

  Every year I had to burst her bubble when I reminded her the real world didn't work like that.

  "Speaking of nasty sex shit," Killian said. "We're going to my place tonight, yes?"

  He phrased it like a question, but I already knew the answer he wanted. That was just another part of this whole arrangement. In exchange for his assistance with maintaining my way of life and the promise of a massive payout at the end of all this, I had to fulfill certain duties.

  They mostly consisted of being on call for him to fuck when he wanted to. And of course he wasn't into regular sex. There had to be kinky stuff involved for him to really want it, so every weekend I had to submit myself to whatever depraved thing he'd come up with.

  Lately things had been fairly mild, just the usual restraints and some spanking, but I was just waiting for him to up the ante. We had a whole eight months left in the contract, after all, and I couldn't see him staying satisfied with what we were doing.

  It wasn't the way I liked to do things, but I couldn't deny I was getting a lot out of the deal. Once the year was up, I'd never have to worry about money again, and that was what I kept reminding myself every time he tied me down and fucked me.

  Well, when I could think at all. Killian was a lot of things, but bad at sex wasn't one of them.

  "Yeah," I answered him, turning my head to look out the window at the rows of houses with their Christmas lights sparkling in the icy darkness. "We're going to your place."