The Art of Domination by Ella Dominguez Read Free Book Online Page A

slowly.
    “Tell me you love me.”
    “I love you. I love you. Only you,” she stutters out and licks her lips.
    The sight of her pink tongue slicking across her mouth and her words are my undoing and I cum hard and fast inside of her.  When I’m finished I pull out and lay next to her, trying to catch my breath. When our breathing has slowed, I reach over and untie Isa.
    “Well. How was that? Think you’ll be able to sit down?” I ask her as I lean up on one elbow, but she doesn’t look amused.
    “What did you mean by vanilla with a twist?” she asks.
    Shit . Did I say that out loud?
    “I s that what we’ve been doing?” she persists.
    Well, hell, since she’s asking, “Yes, it is; with a little bit of domestic discipline.”  There. I said it. It’s out there.
    “I see.”
    She gets up from the bed without looking at me. I hear the shower turn on and I get up and go into the bathroom to watch her. I open her shower door to see her wet and lathering herself up.
    “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me?”
    “I think I’ll watch for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”
    She shrugs and I can see she’s frustrated about something. 
    “Why are you pouting? Because of my vanilla with a twist remark?”
    Again , she just shrugs.
    “Talk to me, Isabel. You know I can’t read your mind. If there’s something that you’re upset about, you need to tell me.”
    She shoots me a look of pure astonishment and then huffs at me, “No shit. I could say the same thing to you.” 
    F uck. Why did I ask?   “Move over,” I tell her and I get into the shower with her. She promptly rinses off, lets me in and then gets out. She’s fucking right and I know it.
    When I’m finished and dried off, I wrap the towel around my waist and go out to find Isabel has some soup waiting for me. It smells delicious and I’m always amazed at what she can create in the kitchen with very little to work with.  She’s not sitting at the table with me, but instead she’s sitting on the couch looking out the window at the snow.
    “Come sit me with, ” I tell her but she doesn’t move or answer me.  “Come on. Stop your pouting and get over here.” 
    S he looks over at me and slowly gets up and joins me at the table. She’s looking at the ring and twirling it on her finger maniacally.
    “It’s a beautif ul ring. Did I tell you that?” she whispers.
    “No , you didn’t.”
    “Well, i t really is wonderful. Did you pick it out yourself or did you have help?” she asks, still looking down at the ring and never raising her eyes to look at me.
    “I drew the design myself and then had a designer make it.”
    “I didn’t know you could draw,” she says, finally looking up me.
    “It’s more like scribbling, really. You know, there are lots of things you don’t know about me.”
    “Yes, I know. But it’s not because I don’t want to know. It’s because you won’t tell me.”
    Here we go with this again. How I’m closed off and secretive. How I never talk about myself or my past, blah, blah, blah.  I roll my eyes at her and sigh loudly.
    “There’s nothing to tell.” And again, I fucking lie to her.
    Isabel stands up and waves towards the door. “Get out. Seriously. I told you not to lie to me anymore and you sit here and lie to me again. There’s something going on. I don’t know what because you won’t fucking tell me and when you’re given the opportunity to tell me, you just lie and pretend like there’s nothing going on. So get out.”
    Shit. She’s pissed. “I’ve asked you n ot to use that kind of language,” I say trying to change the subject.  “Anyway, where the hell am I supposed to go? There’s three feet of snow on the ground.”
    “I don’t really care. You seem to be good at shoveling bullshit, so take a shovel and dig your way back home.”
    I love it when she’s pissed, but I hate it when she uses bad language like that. I also hate it when she’s so