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“My day was good, but I missed waking up next to you,” I admit softly. “Mal was gone by the time I got up, but she asked me to come to the office today, so we could handle the situation with our office assistant together.”
“Keep talking and watch me.”
I lift my head and open my eyes just in time to see him lowering his head back to my body through a haze of lust. A moan rips from my throat as he laps at me with soft strokes of his tongue. Even though he’s going slow, and seems to be in complete control, there’s no mistaking the satisfied grunt that leaves his chest when he plunges his tongue into me.
“We—shit, Dom. That’s feels so good.” I roll my hips to meet the thrusts of his tongue and he pinches my ass to remind me to keep talking. “We were going to fire Jeanie, but she sent in a letter of resignation this morning. We spent the afternoon reaching out to temp agencies to….”
He turns his attention back to my clit, sucking it between his lips and pulling rhythmically while his tongue flutters over the swollen bundle of flesh mercilessly. My hands grip the duvet as the force of my day-old orgasm descends on me. Another pinch, this time to my other cheek, reminds me to keep talking before I miss my chance to come again.
I bite back a moan and force myself to focus even though I don’t know where I was in my retelling of the day’s events. “We’ll have someone new by next week. Mal and I went to lunch. I spent the afternoon checking on my senior designers and then—”
I feel it. The ripples of pleasure making my sex spasm. Languid heat pushing warm tingles through the base of my spine and out into the rest of my body. I hone in on the sensation, too afraid of losing it to do anything but freeze under Dom’s busy lips and wicked tongue. But just as I’m about to fall over the edge, he pulls back.
“Then?”
I blink slowly at him, desire and need clouding my brain for long seconds until I finally regain control. “Then…I came home.”
He drops my hips, snaking his hands around to my front until one is gripping my thigh and the other is poised to take his tongue’s position. The skin of his knuckle is warm and rough as it brushes against my clit. Instinctively, I buck into his touch and silently thank God when he holds his hand steady, allowing me to create the friction I need to feed the pressure building inside of me, instead of pulling away.
“And—” His eyes are black as night. “—you missed me.”
On the last word, he thrusts two fingers into me, pushing deep and curling upwards to massage my g-spot. I gasp loudly; the intrusion forces me to stretch to accommodate the width of his thick fingers, and it hurts just a little, but he doesn’t relent. I arch up off of the bed as Dom repeats his words, this time phrased as a question.
“I—I already said that.”
“You told me to come home, angel.” His fingers are brutal as they pound into me, every stroke pushing me towards a meltdown of epic proportions. “Home. Like this house and the most precious thing in it belongs to me. Is that the case? Do you belong to me?”
I shake my head. Unable to form a coherent thought, let alone string together a sentence. Everything about him is devastating me—the gravelly rasp in his voice, the heat of his body bleeding into mine, the perfect way he’s touching me—and I know he’s done this on purpose, waited until the moment when I’m too far gone to think, or lie, to ask the question he wants the answer to most.
Truthfully, I hadn’t thought much about the content of the message because I was so preoccupied with sending the picture before I chickened out. The picture was sexy, and so I wanted the message to be sexy and concise. Leaving no room for confusion or doubt about whether I wanted him here with me tonight. But why did I choose that particular phrase?
Because this place doesn’t feel like home unless he’s here. Because he’s the only person who’s felt like home since Eric. Because I belong to him in all the ways I never thought I could belong to anyone again.
All good, valid reasons.
All perfect things to say to the man who’s crucifying me with his eyes.
All completely wrong things to say to someone who agreed to a casual relationship with an expiration date you insisted on having.
“It was just a text.” I finally manage to say. Even in my altered state I know I haven’t even begun to answer his question, but I can’t say any of the things I’ve just thought out loud. Hell, it’s scary enough having them swimming around in my lust-addled mind, painting pictures of a future I can’t have with him or anyone else.
“A text written by you, right?”
I’m writhing madly now, my hips churning desperately in search of release even as frustration claws at my chest. “You know that already!”
“So then you shouldn’t have any trouble telling me what it meant.” Something dangerous shifts behind his eyes. Fire singes the corners and creeps in further until it turns his devastating midnight gaze to the hardest, blackest form of obsidian. “Is it possible that I misinterpreted it, angel? Because I cut a very important business meeting short to come take care of you, and doing something like that based on a text only makes sense for a man like me if the woman who sent knows that she’s mine.”
Torture. Everything about this moment is torture—from the exquisite pleasure his wicked fingers are stroking into my body to the ruinous emotion playing across his features and laying waste to my soul.
“Dom, please.” Beads of sweat trickle down my spine while the sound of his fingers gliding in and out of me fill the air. “Please.”
“Say it, Sloane.”
He dips his head, dark eyes locking on mine as he sucks my clit into his mouth with ruthless precision. My thighs clamp down around him. They’re quivering and weak from his ministrations, but I’m desperate to keep him here. To hold him hostage until I fall over the edge of the cliff he’s dragged me to.
Dom lets me keep him there for a few seconds. Happy to feed into the illusion that I have any power over him just so he can be the one to shatter it with a quick shift of his shoulders and a beatific smile on his stupidly handsome face.
“Say. It.”
