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“It means, looking back at my circumstances, I think that I would have been happier as a police wife, instead of divorced and alone every other weekend.”
“Anytime you’re alone, you can call me,” he offers.
I don’t respond, but pull out the container of spaghetti and drop it in the middle of the island. Taking out two forks from the drawer next to me, I hand him one, and we share the bowl. We both stand and rest our weight on the island as we eat. Neither of us says more. Nothing else needs to be said.
I toss the empty bowl into the sink and now I’m remembering why I let him come home with me. I’m horny, and he was willing to tag along, which is a bonus because even though I was dressed to impress, I’m still a mom, and I like to be effective. No need to flirt and pick up a random person when Dom is ready and willing. I realize how messed up it is, and I feel bad, but it doesn’t stop me.
It may have been awhile, but having sex is like riding a bicycle, and Dom will do just fine. I turn around and walk towards him. He’s standing across from me, leaning against the counter with his legs crossed.
His eyes hold mine, watching as I close the distance. The hunger he always had for me twinkles in his blue eyes. One of my rules is going to be no kissing, but tonight doesn’t count. Tonight, I want to taste him.
My hands tug at his shirt, and I pull him to me. He doesn’t fight it, but steps closer. Then his lips are on mine and I moan as he slides his tongue into my open mouth. I grasp his jaw, my nails digging into his skin.He sucks in a breath at the bite of pain, and I touch my forehead to his. My heart is beating so fast, and I know it’s because I’ve missed him. Without him, I’ve only been surviving. Having him so close to me after so long is intense, and I’m not sure what I should do with it.
He bites my lower lip and pulls away. “What are your rules, Andi?” He grabs my hair and his other hand wraps around my waist. Spinning me, it forces my back against the island. Both his hands grab my ass, squeezing, as he lifts me onto the counter. I wrap my heels around him, drawing him closer to me.
“There aren’t any tonight. Tomorrow…” I unbutton my jeans and lift my hips off the counter, so I can get them off. He helps tug them down my legs and I kick them off. I pull him close to me again, hooking my feet back around him.
I reach between us, undoing the belt on his jeans. Dom’s teeth graze my jaw while I unzip his pants, reaching for his cock.
His hand comes to my throat, and his thumb strokes it tenderly. His eyes soften, and it slows my heartbeat. With one tight squeeze, he could hurt me, but he won’t and giving him this power sends a jolt right between my legs.
He bites my shoulder, and normally the pain would cause me to yelp, but I barely feel it as he slides inside of me. I groan, lifting my hips up to drive him deeper into me. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex, and even when Matt and I were together, it was never like this. This is different. Dom makes me feel so… full. Fucking has never felt so good, not since him.
My hand rests on top of his, over my throat, and looking him in the eye, I say, “tighter.” His gaze drifts to my throat, then he kisses me as he squeezes harder.
I’ve forgotten how good he feels. How he fills me just right, and how his chest pressing into me makes my body feel like I’m riding on a high.
“Shit.” I gasp as he thrusts into me fast. I grab him for balance, lifting my head from the counter.
“I’ve fucking missed you. So much,” he says between breaths.
There’s just something about this, fucking with most of our clothes on, in the dark, in my kitchen. It’s wrong and right, all at the same time, and just as quickly as I shove him inside me, I let out a cry as I come around his cock.
Matt and I had good sex, but nothing compared to this. I never understood how, or why, but now I know that we were missing the passion Dom and I had for each other.
“Fuck, you feel so good coming on my dick.” Dom pulls out of me, panting.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, because he drags me off the counter and flips me onto my stomach. His hand presses against the center of my lower back and firmly runs along my spine until he reaches my neck. He grips me tightly and pushes me further onto the countertop until my cheek presses against the cold marble.
I feel his breath against my ear. “I want you to come on my mouth.”
I moan in response, and my body shivers at his words. He always did like the taste of me. His thumb strokes my clit from behind, and the pressure is almost too much. I wriggle and he grips my hips to keep me in place. “Shh. Sit still, baby girl.”
“Please.” I whine when his tongue flicks over me. The pressure builds. His attention to my clit is too much, and it has been too long since anyone has brought me to orgasm–well, since Matt actually put in the effort.
Dom sucks on my clit, licking me, his nose rubbing against me. “Please.” I whine again, and push my hips into his face. “Fill me.”
“Come for me, first. Then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He is so fucking dirty, and it’s so hot. I grip the edge of the marble as he pinches my clit. I let out a cry and my hips grind against his face as I ride through the release.
Dom pulls up the back of my shirt and presses his mouth against my skin. It’s an open mouth kiss and his tongue glides against my flesh. He growls when he pulls away. That’s when I realize that for me, this was about drunken sex, and for him, it was passion. Passion is a raw feeling that I refuse to acknowledge. Maybe I can, tomorrow, over some bacon.
On second thought, pass.
