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“It’s a charity fundraiser. Just wear a tux and be ready to go by six.” Mum turns to leave and then adds, “Sober, Dominic. This event is important.”
“Sure, I’ll be ready,” I tell her. “And it was one time,” I huff out. It was also when I was sixteen. I got high before one of my parents’ charity events and slept through the whole dinner. To this day, I don’t know what the big deal was. It’s not like anyone saw. My parents left me asleep in the back seat of the car.
“Which is one time too many, Dominic. And thank you for coming with me.”
I walk up to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “No need to thank me, Mum. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do on a Saturday night than spent the evening with my favourite parent.” I smirk down at her.
“Ew, and also flattery will only get you so far in life.” She shakes out from under my arm.
“Yes, but the McKinley fortune will get me everywhere else.” I laugh.
“Your father and uncle have spoilt you too much,” Mum says.
“Riiiight, they’re the ones who spoilt me.” I raise my eyebrows at her. It’s no secret in our family that I am nowand always have beena spoilt brat. My parents gave me everything I could ever fucking want growing up.
“Thankfully you’re not rotten. Money hasn’t gone to your head.”
“Not much gets to my head, Mum,” I counter.
She goes quiet as she looks up at me. I shouldn’t joke about how my brain is wired. We all know it’s not right. It’s just not something we talk about that much. My mum gets upset when I joke about being crazy or insane, even if it is the truth.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Okay, well, go and shower. You stink—and eat something. You can’t work out this much and not eat.”
“You do know I’ve been living here, alone, looking after myself, for the last two years and haven’t starved to death yet.”
“You have a full-time housekeeper. You’re hardly roughing it—or doing it alone, Dom.” Mum walks down to the opposite end of the hall.
I head straight for my shower, swiping my phone off my bed as I walk through my room. I power it on and see the notification that one of Lucy’s cars isn’t at her building. I zoom in on its current location, finding it parked outside of the Russel Street car park. Logging in to the tracker on her phone, I pin her at Chanel. So, instead of heading into the shower like I should, I pick up my laptop. It takes me minutes to hack into the store’s CCTV.
I scan the cameras until I locate her. Lucy walks into the main dressing room area, staring at the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She’s wearing a black evening gown—fucking gorgeous.The dress is strapless, her slender neck on full display. A neck I’d love to darken with my teeth marks. The dress has a long slit up her left leg, while the rest of it hugs every curve of her body like a fucking glove. Lucy spins, looking over her shoulder at the reflection of the back of the dress. I’m tempted to send her a message telling her exactly how fucking great she looks in it.
I don’t.
Instead, I wait and watch as she disappears into the dressing room, returning on the screen a few minutes later in a pink dress. I honestly think she could wear anything and look stunning. When she walks out of the shop with a garment bag containing a dark-green gown, I call the shop and order the black one too, with instructions to have it sent to her apartment. I have no idea where she’s planning on going all dressed up yet, but I’ll find out. I just know I want to see her in that black evening gown again.
Shutting down my laptop, I walk into the bathroom, press the button on the tiled wall, and wait as the rain shower starts up. I strip out of my shorts and step under the hot stream, closing my eyes and letting the hot water ease my overworked muscles.
Lucy in that fucking dress is all I can see.
I open my eyes, squirt some bodywash into my hand, and grab my cock, squeezing the tip as I tug on the length. “Fuck!” I groan out. My head tips back and my eyes close again.
I see her, laid out on a bed in that fucking dress. Except it’s torn right down the middle while my hand wraps around her throat. “Your sting is lethal, Little Bee, but I’ll die happily for just one taste of you,” I growl into her ear.
Then I squeeze, trapping the air in her lungs, and watch as her eyes widen. But not in fear or panic. They’re filled with pleasure, lust, and trust.
Didn’t anyone ever tell this girl you shouldn’t get in bed with the bogeyman?
My palm slides up and down my cock, as I imagine sliding a hand under her dress. My fingers dipping under her panties before sinking into her warm, wet hole. I can see her lips part, hear the gasp that leaves her mouth. My hand pumps faster, harder, as I recall the sounds she made over the phone when she came for me. I can see her head tipped back, her eyes locked on mine as I hover above her, my fingers pumping in and out. I can feel the warmth of her juices coating my hand.
“Fuck! Shit!” I curse out as ropes of cum spill from my cock quicker than I’d ever admit. I’m going to need to hear her moan again, even if it’s just over the phone.
FOURTEEN
“How was it?” I ask Shar when she walks through the front door of her apartment. I might have let myself in, but I did bring wine. Which I know, after the hellish interviews she’s been enduring lately, she definitely needs.
“Argh, don’t ask,” she groans as she tosses her bag on the floor before throwing herself on the couch.
