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“Fucking. Beautiful. Creature,” he grinds out the words, pumping another three times as he comes. I have the sudden urge to feel his seed warm the inside of my pussy. I want to feel it dripping down my legs.
I don’t voice this, of course. I’m not a complete lunatic.
Our breathing finally steadies and Dominic moves to untie me. He removes his shirt and places it over my head, then bends down to collect my panties and shorts—shoving the former into his pocket and shaking the dirt off the latter. Once he’s satisfied, he hands the shorts back to me.
I raise an eyebrow at him. At this rate, I won’t have any underwear left for him to take.
“Come on, you didn’t get the tour,” he grunts.
“Because you had a tantrum,” I remind him.
“I was refraining from wringing your pretty little fucking neck, nothaving a tantrum.” His hand cups my chin as he turns my face from side to side, inspecting my throat with each gentle movement. “Shit, you’re going to need to put something on that.”
“I’m fine.” I pull out of his grasp. “Now show me this farmhouse and tell me all about your design plans."
* * *
After walking through the house,Dominic tucked me into the passenger seat of his Bentley, before driving me back to the gym where I left my car this morning. I got so excited over his plans for the house. I haven’t told anyone but I have a passion for interior design. If I weren’t Lucy Christianson, if I could be anyone else, I’d be a designer.
“I’m firing my designer. I want you to do it,” Dom says as if he’s reading my mind.
“Ah, what?”
“I want you to lead the designs for the farmhouse.”
“Why? I don’t know anything about renovations, Dominic.”
“I don’t care if you fuck it up and we have to burn it to the ground and start from scratch. I want you to do it,” he tells me.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.”
He pulls into the empty spot next to my car, then turns in his seat to face me. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you already know?” I lift a brow at him.
“I’m asking because that seems like the proper thing to do.”
“I’m not telling you. If your stalker skills are as good as you claim, you’ll find me. If not, well, your loss.” I wink and jump out of his car and into mine.
As I have the engine purring, I call Shar. She answers almost immediately. “LuLu, where have you been? I was about to send out a search party.”
“Sorry, what’s up?”
“I need you to come out tonight. Meet me at Unhinged at nine,” she says through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Does it have to be Unhinged?” I ask her.
“Yes. Meet me there.” She cuts the call.
Guess I’m going to hang out at Unhinged tonight. It’s one of Melbourne’s newest nightclubs, owned by one of Dominic’s cousins. Let’s face it, I know I keep saying he’s the one who’s crazy. But, really, my own sanity is in question at this point. Especially when a small thrill runs through me at knowing exactly what dress I’m going to wear tonight and what my not-so-little stalker’s reaction is going to be to it.
TWENTY-FIVE
I’ve been pacing the floor of the room. The monitors are all showing Lucy’s apartment. She’s been getting ready for the last two hours. I watched her shower, wash and dry her hair, and then she spent an hour applying shit to her face she doesn’t fucking need.
She’s just walked out of her closet in a black leather pencil skirt and a matching black piece of fabric disguised as a shirt, her tits practically spilling out of the top. She’s holding a pair of black Louboutin pumps in her hand as she spins in a circle with a fucking smile plastered on her face. She knows I’m watching.
