Exposed to You (17 page)

The next morning, it
was the same thing: he was gone when I woke up, and I was in bed when he came
home, in the early morning. He sent me a text asking if there was something
wrong with my phone, but I didn’t reply.

On Tuesday, my last
day of work, I went out for drinks with Michelle when our shift ended and got
home around ten. Again Dallon wasn’t home, and I was slightly tipsy. I went
straight upstairs to my room, but for some reason stopped outside the studio. I
hadn’t been in it since the night we met.

I pulled open the
double doors and stepped in. It looked just the same as it had the other night,
but now I noticed a set of wardrobes on the wall opposite to the door. The
first two were locked but the third opened easily. At first glance, it
contained canvases stacked together and leaning against the back of the
wardrobe, camera equipment on shelves, and storage boxes.

The first storage box
contained camera lenses. When I opened the next box, I dropped it, and pictures
scattered everywhere. I fell to my knees, desperately trying to scoop them up
and put them back in the box. Some of the pictures were tasteful like the ones
I’d let him keep, but others were beyond pornographic. It was obvious that
Dallon King had a thing for taking pictures of women he slept with, both before
the act and during.

“What are you doing?”

I froze, still holding
a picture of a naked woman looking up at a camera, her legs spread. She was
sitting up, her arms behind her in an awkward position, as if... bound.

I heard the floor
creek as Dallon stepped into the room. My heart began to beat so loudly, I
couldn’t hear his footsteps approach me. When two bare feet appeared in my
vision, I gathered the courage to look up at him, and my breath caught.

If I’d thought he’d
looked angry in my apartment, I was wrong. This was the angriest I’d ever seen
him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, his hands balled into fists at
his sides, his eyes black.

“I didn’t mean to find
them,” I said softly. “I wanted to know what was in the wardrobes.”

“And you thought my
invitation to live in my guestroom was also an invitation to snoop through my
home.”

He said it with such
anger that I flinched. “No, I was just curious. About you.”

He cocked his head to
the side, his face still hard. “And are you still curious?”

“No,” I whispered.

He crossed his arms
and put a hand to his chin, his eyes still set on me and still furious. The
shivers returned again, stretching down my back like icy fingers. “You’re on
your knees.”

“I dropped the box and
the photos went everywhere.”

“I can see that.”

“I was trying to put
them away before…”

“Before I found out. I
know.”

I swallowed. He was
still staring at me. I returned to the photos, scooping them into the box, my
hands shaking and my cheeks red. When I had them all back in the box, I moved
to stand up.

“Stop.”

I froze, still in my
kneeling position.

“I think we need to
talk, and it’s easier like this. So you don’t freak out and take off.”

That was exactly what
I had been planning to do.

He moved to stand in
front of me. “Look at me,” he said sternly.

I peeked up at him
nervously. How was it that I was the one feeling embarrassed when I’d just
discovered his secret stash of porno pictures?

“Tell me what you’re
thinking.”

It sounded like a
command. I was afraid of him—that was what I was thinking. I hadn’t had a
chance to work through anything else.

“Be honest with me.
Otherwise there’s no point.”

No point in what? I
took a deep breath, afraid of what he might do if I broke eye contact. “When
you said you’d taken pictures, I didn’t expect... this.”

“You thought I meant
like the ones I took of you.”

“Yes.”

“And?” His eyes bore
into me, daring me to say more. “Are you shocked? Angry? Frightened?”

When I didn’t respond,
he nodded as if my silence had given him the answer. “When you snoop through
people’s belongings, you might find they have skeletons in their closet.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked down at me
and his face softened. For a moment, I thought he might tell me I
should
be
frightened and that I
should
leave. Instead, he crouched in front of me
so that our faces were closer to being level.

“How many people have
you had sex with, Amy?” he asked softly.

“One.”

“An old boyfriend?”

I nodded.

“And what was it like?
Missionary and vanilla? Awkward and boring?”

I made a face like I
didn’t want to talk about it with him, and he laughed. “What I’m trying to say
is that sex isn’t always what they show you in the movies.”

I glared at him. “I
know that! I know that people can be... kinky.”

His lips twitched, but
he tried to hide it. The condescending gesture provided the anger I needed to
voice what I really thought.

“What I’m worried
about is that you don’t just like to control women, you like to
dominate
them.”

There, I’d said it
without saying it. Dallon King wasn’t just into a few spankings in the bedroom;
he was into full out bondage and domination. On top of that, he was into documenting
the entire process and keeping photographic evidence like conquests.

He straightened to his
full height. “You are correct, Amy,” he said with a slight shrug.  “I do like
to dominate women. It turns me on immensely.”

I swallowed. How could
he be so nonchalant about it? Shouldn’t he be a tiny bit ashamed? I rubbed my
arms. It suddenly felt chilly, like his anger had sucked out all the warmth in
the room. My knees were sore on the wood, and I put my hands under them.

“You are in a very
submissive position, Amy. Are you uncomfortable?”

“My knees are
hurting.”

He didn’t respond,
only continued to look at me as if waiting for something.

“May I stand up now?”
I asked.

He smiled and nodded.
“Yes, you may.”

I got to my feet
quickly, and Dallon strode over to the studio doors and closed them. My heart
began to race again; apparently he didn’t plan for us to leave. He turned a
dial on the wall and the lights dimmed.

“Come here,” he said
in a deceptively soft voice.

I hesitated for a
moment and saw his eyes narrow. I went to him, afraid of angering him further
or wanting to please him, I wasn’t sure. When I was close enough, he put a hand
out and cupped my cheek.

“You weren’t meant to
find those.”

My eyes darted to the
door behind him.

He picked me up
suddenly and carried me over to the bed, where he sat and stood me between his
legs. Then his mouth was on mine. He smelled amazing, and I found myself
returning his kiss, the memories of the photos slipping away as my heart began
to race with excitement rather than fear. How was it that a simple kiss could
make me forget all the images I’d seen? I should have bolted for the door when
I’d had the chance.

He pulled of his shirt
and then pulled mine off as well, dropping both on the floor.

“Take off the bra.”

I hesitated, but only
for a second; his eyes told me that I didn’t want to refuse. Clumsily, I undid
the clasp and placed the bra in his outstretched hand.

“You have beautiful
breasts,” he murmured. He reached out with one hand and tugged at my nipple. It
hardened instantly. Then he cupped my breasts with both hands, using his thumbs
to gently massage my nipples while he spoke. My legs weakened, and I struggled
to stay still in the standing position.

“You will not come
into this room again unless accompanied by me, understood?” His voice was
soothing, hypnotic.

“Yes,” I said
breathlessly.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand.”

I was shaking
slightly, from nerves or excitement, I didn’t know. He was looking into my eyes
the way he had the other night in his bedroom, a slight hardness to his
features. Now I knew what it meant: he was in dominant mode. But unlike the
other night, I knew that this time he wasn’t going to stop himself.

“The things you do to
me, Amy,” he whispered, trailing a finger from my navel to the waistband of my
jeans. His voice was low, seductive. “You’re a natural in so many ways.”

He unbuttoned my
pants, revealing a pink and white striped thong. His lips quirked up and then
he put both hands under the waistband at the back, cupping my backside briefly
before pulling my jeans and panties down at the same time. 

“I started off with a
look, thinking I knew what type of woman I was after, but you blew me away.”

He held me as I
stepped out of them, and then pushed them aside with his foot, his eyes never
leaving mine. I was standing naked in front of him for the first time, and my
first instinct was to cover myself.

“Don’t hide from me,”
he said softly. “You’re beautiful. You should never hide.”

He began kissing my
neck, moving down to my breasts, his hands on my hips. Then he slipped a finger
inside me, and I moaned involuntarily, reaching out to put my arms around him.
He had one finger inside, his thumb circling my clitoris. Like the other night,
all rational thought left me and I was only sensation, standing before Dallon
moaning and no longer embarrassed.

“You’ve figured me
out, Amy,” he whispered in my ear, “but I’ve figured you out too. Your body
responds to me. You can’t pretend you’ve never fantasized about being dominated
before.”

I didn’t speak, didn’t
try to deny it, only laid my cheek against his shoulder as I struggled to keep
standing. Dallon held me with one arm and stood, unbuckled his pants slowly. My
eyes widened and he smirked, pulling himself out with one hand. With a flick of
his eyes, he gestured to the floor, and I sank as if controlled my some
invisible force.

“Have you done this before?”

I shook my head, my mouth dry.

“Look at me and don’t look away.”

I tilted my head up
and our eyes locked.

“Put out your tongue.”

I obeyed, and he
reached out and gently cupped my head with his one hand.

“Don’t look away from
me.”

With his other hand,
he tilted his penis down onto my tongue and moved it back and forth, back and
forth, slowly. His mouth parted and I heard his breathing quicken. Then he
gently pushed my head lower, and I took a ball into my mouth, sucking gently.

“Amy…” he said in a low voice that sounded somewhat
surprised. He pulled back to look down at me again. His were almost black, his
pupils completely dilated.

“Put your hands behind your back. Clasp them.”

I clasped my arms behind my back. I knew how I must look
on my knees in front of him, and the idea excited me.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Amy?” he asked in a soft
voice.

I didn’t respond, only continued looking up at him
through my lashes, determined not to waver. Time passed slowly while he waited.

I licked my lips.

Dallon made a low noise and grasped a handful of my
hair, making a makeshift ponytail. He pulled hard, tilting my head back—and
then a pained look marred his beautiful features.

He released his hold abruptly and gathered me to him. In
a second, I was lying on my back on the bed and he was above me, supporting
himself on one arm. He kicked off his jeans and moved between my legs to kiss
my stomach, and I could feel him against my thigh.

“I want you,” he
whispered as he trailed kisses up my body. “Tell me I can have you.”

His fingers moved
between my legs again, and he sat back to gaze at me, looking… hungry. When his
thumb circled me again, I nodded quickly. I closed my eyes as he kicked off his
pants and only opened them again when he was above me. He took my hands in his
and moved them to the side of my head, pinning them there. He was looking at me
with such fierceness that I shook a little, and a small smile played on his
lips.

“You’re a bit afraid
of me.”

“Do you want me to be
afraid of you?”

“I want you to be
afraid of angering me.”

“I am.”

He leaned down and
pressed his lips against my forehead, his eyes closed. “Amy,” he whispered
against my skin, “I’m not a brute, but I want what I want, and that is for you
to submit to me.”

His admission didn’t
come as much of a surprise, but the timing didn’t seem fair. I was lying there,
waiting, and he was asking me to make a choice.

“I don’t know what
that means.”

“I want all of
you—mind, body and soul.”