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His tongue continued to move inside me until I was so oversensitive to his touch that my body began to tremble and I had to push his head away.
He wrapped both hands around my hips and lifted me effortlessly, setting me back on the counter. I was incapable of standing on my own. A boneless mess. Dom leaned back on his knees, still on the floor, and shot me a taunting grin as if he knew it too.
I could only blink at him, my mind still too made of jelly to form any type of response to what we just did. What I just let him do to me. WhatIdid to him. I rode his face like a fucking mechanical bull. I begged him to bite my clit. I came all over his fingers– all over his tongue.
Oh my god.I felt my face heat.
Whatthe fuckdid I just do?
He was smirking at me triumphantly, as if he’d just won some kind of game. As if I’d just proved all of his arrogance, his cockiness, his ego to be correct. As if he knew exactly the way he’d made me feel, and as if he’d expected me to beg for more.
I cringed at the small part of myself that wanted to.
He must’ve seen the horror in my face as his straightened and tensed. He stood slowly from the floor and towered over me once again. We only stared at each other, both of our chests heaving with the aftermath of what had happened. We found ourselves at a loss for words.
I was walking the line between asking him to leave, and asking for more when an incessant buzzing erupted next to me. We both jumped at the sound of it, and I glanced down to find my phone vibrating across the counter. Penelope was FaceTiming me.
I gasped, brushing my hair out of my face and scrambling into a standing position while simultaneously pulling up my pants and shoving Dom toward the front door. “You need to leave.”
His brow furrowed. “What? Why?”
I paused. I didn’t know. Well, I did. I was embarrassed and I didn’t feel like having any type of conversation with him about what had just transpired. I didn’t want to have to explain to Penny why he was in the apartment, either. I especially didn’t want her taking one look at my flushed cheeks and ratted hair and put two-and-two together, so I pushed against that hard chest again.
“They can’t know about this,” I said breathlessly. “Nobody can, ever.”
His face just twisted into something that looked like confusion– maybe disappointment. Whatever it had been, it disappeared swiftly as he laughed. A laugh that felt forced.
I swung open the front door, my phone still ringing in my hand. Waving my free one, I motioned for him to leave. He shot me a lazy smile. “You’re not going to say thanks?”
“Thank you for the orgasm,” I muttered. “Now get out of my house.”
Just as the words left my mouth, my elderly neighbor, Madge, rounded the corner. Her face was scrunched in disgust as she stalked past us, seeming to press into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, as if keeping as much distance as possible.
Of-fucking-course.
Dom’s laugh was deep and rich. “I meant for helping with the groceries… but you’re welcome for the other thing too.” He winked. I closed my eyes and sighed. He stepped out into the hall and swaggered toward the stairwell. Without turning back around he said, “I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow for the open house.”
I slammed the door. “Fuck,” I muttered to myself, having forgotten entirely about that showing he wanted me to come to.
I finally answered Penny’s call. Her freckled face, now more apparent with her matching tan, popped up on my screen. She smiled. “Just your friendly reminder not to let my plants die.”
I’d forgotten about those too.
Chapter 5
What am I supposed to wear?
I sent the text to the number that Dom messaged me from last week. He replied almost instantly with a photo of himself in the bathroom mirror. He was wearing what was clearly a designer suit. Dark blue, with a white shirt underneath and unbuttoned at the collar. No tie. He must’ve gotten a haircut since I saw him yesterday because his fade was immaculate and the top was shorter. He had a perfect I’m-not-really-trying-I’m-just-this-good-looking style happening.
Annoying.
A message followed the photo that said:
I know it’s a challenge, but try to look like
you belong with this.
I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone onto my bed before entering my own bathroom. I checked myself over in the mirror, and at first glance I definitely did not look like I belonged with him. My blonde hair was unruly; strands of honey, caramel, and ash colored ringlets sticking up all over the place. I’d never really learned how to do my hair. The curls are some recessive gene, and my parents aren’t sure where it came from. I tried combing my fingers through the nest of curls, and they only got stuck. I tossed it into a neat ballerina bun on top of my head and wet the few strands that fell into my face.
