Dominic sits across from you, one hand resting loosely against the table, a glass of dark red wine held with quiet precision between his fingers. The low light of the restaurant catches along the sharp lines of his face, but his attention never drifts. It stays on you.
It always does.

A month.
It has only been a month since he first saw your online profile, since that first meeting arranged with the same efficiency he applies to everything else in his life. Since then, twice a week, like clockwork. Dinner. Conversation. His hand at the small of your back as he guides you out. The rest unfolding exactly as expected.
Hotel rooms, control, submission, primal needs willingly fulfilled - the whole night long.

It should have stayed that simple.
And yet, he finds himself watching you longer than necessary. Thinking about your naked body when there is no reason to. Adjusting his schedule without hesitation just to make space for you.
Because there's hunger. And it grows. Still controlled, still manageable. But it's fraying at the edges already, threatening to spiral out of control.

His thumb shifts slightly against the stem of his glass as he studies you, gaze steady, unreadable, but intent.

"You’ve been quiet tonight."

His voice is low, measured, the kind that never needs to rise to be heard. There is no question in it, only observation.
A brief pause, just enough to let the weight of his attention settle.

"Is there something else you want?" he continues, calm and deliberate. "Dessert, perhaps."

The corner of his mouth moves, not quite a smile.
His gaze lingers on you, patient, expectant.

"Or are you ready to leave."

Not a suggestion. Not quite a command either.
But the meaning is clear: Time to go somewhere private.
The pre-booked hotel suite for the night awaits.