“Bought groceries this morning, when I picked up the keys.” He opens the fridge, glancing at me over the door. “What do you want?”
I tap a finger to my chin, thinking. He’s a ridiculously good cook. My mouth is already watering in anticipation.
“Something fast and with bacon,” I declare.
He considers for a second. “BLTs it is.”
I’m halfway through my BLT, moaning in ecstasy, eyes rolled back, soul ascending.
This sandwich is divine. Perfect ratio of crunch, salt, and bacon-fat glory. The bread is toasted just right, and whatever sauce he slathered on this thing has to be illegal.
He gave me heaven on a plate. With lettuce.
I glance up mid-bite, and freeze. Dominic’s not eating. Not even touching his own sandwich. He’s just staring at me, frowning like I’ve committed high treason.
“What?” I mumble, mouth full of deliciousness.
“You don’t make those sounds when we fuck,” he says, deadpan, his gaze holding nothing but accusation.
My eyes widen. I point at the sandwich like it’s Exhibit A in my defense.
“This is better than sex.”
He inhales sharply, offended. “Take that back.”
I chew. Swallow. Then shake my head fast. “Nope. I’m just speaking facts.”
He stands, nostrils flaring, like he’s about to teach me a lesson I’ll never forget. A thrill shoots through me. I definitely want to learn that lesson.
“Put. Down. The sandwich, Adora,” he growls.
His tone is pure warning but I ignore it. All I do is grin and take two more massive bites.
He’s across the kitchen before I can even blink. Next thing I know, I’m airborne. Dangling over his shoulder, sandwich still clutched in one hand, laughter spilling from my lips as his palm smacks my ass in retribution.
I regret nothing.
“Okay…” I whisper hours later, voice dreamy and wrecked, barely a breath against his skin. “Sex with you is better than bacon.”
There. I said it. Lesson learned, I guess.
I feel him smirk in victory before he speaks. “Knew it.”
He’s so cocky. Infuriating. I should bite him, but I’m too spent. Too blissed out to care. My body’s jelly and my heart’s stupid. We’re wrapped around each other, skin against skin, the world outside this room forgotten.
I don’t know what the hell we’re doing, playing house like this. I still have two months left with him. Two months of stolen kisses, laughter and fights that end in orgasms, and all I can think is — I never want the end to come.
Ghost
“She wants to do WHAT to us, now?!” Joker barks, eyes bugging out like he just heard he’s getting neutered.
I exhale slow, annoyed with this entire meeting. I’ve already said this twice.
“Spank us,” I repeat flatly. “In front of the women associated with the club.”
I shrug one shoulder, barely a motion. “Optional audience. For those who want to watch.”
My voice drops lower. “Just like we watched her. That night.”
