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I couldn’t answer. What was I supposed to say to that? What could I say?
He didn’t need a response from me, not when he sucked his fingers into his mouth and cleaned them, taking my essence into his body.
The sight had a wave of pleasure coursing through me.
“God. Fuck yes.” Dom said those words on a harsh whisper, closing his eyes for a second to savor my flavor on his tongue. “Fuck.” He moved away from me, as if tearing his body from mine, as if I burned him.
I couldn’t move, didn’t want to. He stood, had his back to me for a second, and then ran his hand over his hair, his muscles flexing and bunching from the act.
There was no denying the atmosphere changed, the room becoming cold, the air seeming thicker. He glanced at me, and I lowered my gaze to his crotch, saw how hard he still was, felt my eyes widen as I saw a wet spot starting to form on the denim from the obvious pre-cum seeping through the material.
His expression was hard, his body stiff. He looked angry, or maybe he was conflicted. I knew I was the latter for sure.
Without saying anything to me, he reached out, grabbed the door handle, and left, closing the door behind him and leaving me feeling like an emptiness now consumed me.
I knew what I’d just done, what I’d let Dom do to me, would forever change everything.
I didn’t know if that scared me… or if I was looking forward to more.
Chapter Thirteen
Amelia
I slowly opened my eyes, drowsiness trying to claim me again. I rolled over, knowing I was still alone, feeling the lack of Dom’s presence in the room.
It felt devoid.
I felt devoid.
I stared at the bedroom door, the same one Dom had exited, the one that closed me in after he made me come several times. My body was pleasantly sore despite the fact that we hadn’t actually had sex.
The remembrance of him grinding against me, of his mouth on mine, the scruff on his cheeks abrading the sensitive skin at my throat, had arousal moving through me once more. My nipples hardened and a shiver worked its way up my spine.
I realized I was under the covers, my body bare of any clothing except for my bra, the sweat already having dried on me. I didn’t remember getting under the covers. Had he come back?
In the flurry of activity with Dom, my clothes had been discarded, while he had stayed fully dressed. I found that arousing as hell, far more exciting than if he’d gotten undressed himself, just as stark naked as I had been.
I grabbed the sheet and held it up to my chest as I slowly sat up, the scent of him all around me—on my skin, in my hair, on the very sheets that surrounded me. It was then I noticed a stack of clothes at the edge of the bed. A pair of sweats and a shirt. His.
He had come back in here after I’d fallen asleep.
I looked at that bedroom door again and swallowed roughly, glancing at my pile of clothes on the floor, knowing it was smart if I would’ve just put those on, but instead I reached for his garments.
I slipped his shirt on, the material so big on me, my body tiny compared to it. And then I put on the sweats, pulled the drawstring as far as it would go, and tied it in a knot. But it was still too big, and so I rolled the waistband down, keeping the material in place as much as I could.
I glanced down at myself, my body swimming in the fabric. I felt very intimate at this moment, very close with Dom even though I was alone. I knew nothing about him, not anything that wasn’t on the surface, easily seen, readily visible. I had no idea how old he was, what his last name was. I didn’t know what his mother and father were like, if he’d had a happy childhood or one like mine.
Hell, I didn’t even know where he lived. I didn’t know where I was. Yet here I was, wearing his clothing, and the memory of his body on top of mine as he worked himself on me until I orgasmed for him playing through my mind.
He made me come more than once, and that played on repeat in my head, like a broken record that I didn’t want to correct.
I gathered the front of his shirt and brought it up to my nose, inhaling deeply. There was a spicy, almost evergreen aroma to the material. Wild. Feral.
I looked at the bedroom door again, knowing what I had to do, what I should do. And I found myself walking toward it, opening it, staring out into a living room and a kitchen. We were in the basement, if descending stairs when I first got here was anything to go by.
