“Bad?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker.”
His mood has lifted considerably from last night, and I’m thankful.
“Serves you right. Why did you go crazy like that?”
“I have a temper.”
“Noooo, not you.”
“Yeah, well, that motherfucker almost killed Sean.”
“Then I’m glad you broke his jaw.”
A tense silence follows and suddenly I feel awkward.
“Just wanted to check on you.”
I move to get up so he can eat his breakfast, but he stills me, maneuvering me across his lap before picking up his fork and digging in. His clean scent invades me as I sit locked in his arms.
I glance around his room in the full light of day. Eyeing the private library over his shoulder that takes up one entire wall. “So, I’m guessing reading is a hobby?”
“You could say that.”
“One of mine too.” I shake my head. “Gotta say, you fellas surprise me at every turn.”
“Why, because we aren’t illiterates with mile-long rap sheets?”
“Your presentation is deceiving and…effective.”
Assumptions from unsuspecting others like me keep them hiding in plain sight. At the most, they come across as twenty-something delinquents, but that’s not the whole truth. People believe what they want to. The boys don’t fight or negate their reputations because it keeps them in the dark. And the dark is their playground.
“I can’t imagine you on a college campus. Did you like living in Boston?”
“It was all right.” He dips his toast in the yolk and pops it into his mouth.
I glance over my shoulder as he makes quick work of inhaling his eggs.
“Good?”
He nods. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” I glance toward his screen. “What are you doing?”
“Eating breakfast.”
“God,” I roll my eyes. “I’ll never get a straight answer.”
“Get used to it.” He pushes his empty plate to the side and moves his mouse. The monitor comes to life and lines of code pop up.
“Jesus, it looks like the Matrix. What is this?”
“I don’t know, you haven’t chosen what color pill yet.” He continues to eye the screen. The whole of it is dark, mostly. No browser links, nothing. Just numbers popping up, algorithms, and he seems to be reading them with ease.
“It’s a back door,” he says, moving his mouse.
“A back door?”
“To where I want to be.”
“Is this the dark web?”
One side of his mouth lifts, indicating just how clueless I am. “It’s my web.”
“You’re the spider?”
“With teeth,” he bites down onto my shoulder and my lower half pulses.
“So, you’re the brains, huh?”
“Don’t credit me.” His comment leads to more maddening silence. He knows I have zero idea of what we’re looking at, and this keeps me safe in his secret.
Still sideways on his lap, I run my hands along his muscular neck and shoulders. He’s wearing black sweats and nothing else, giving me the freedom to touch him, and that’s exactly what I do. He lets me, his skin silky, nothing but carved lines and muscles. He grows hard beneath me and ignores it, clicking over and over until he situates me so I’m facing forward before he instructs me to type. After my shower, I decided against wearing last night’s thong so the only thing separating us is the material of his sweats, which may as well be nothing. Unable to ignore the electricity racing through my veins, I draw heavy breaths, my nipples pulling tight with his every whispered order. He instructs me easily, in a carefully plotted symphony of moves until he seems satisfied. We do this for the better part of an hour, his body priming with my stolen touches, but he keeps his focus on our task, while I twitch in anticipation. In these minutes, I go from wet to soaked, stealing glances back at him to study his dark lashes and the perfection that is the rest of his face. It’s too much to ask not to touch, but he nudges me when I lose focus, keeping my fingers working as I start to tremble with need. I’m helplessly seduced by the time he murmurs, “Good, thank you.”
“Welcome.”
I’ve adjusted myself over him several times for his comfort, but know he’s probably tired of being my chair, and at this point, I’m terrified I made a mess in his lap. Slowly, I move to get up when he buries his nose in my hair, hooking me back into him. I draw audible breaths as he finally acknowledges the bulge in his sweats and the raging current between us. Clinging desperately to my will, I start to speak up when he beats me to it.
“No.”
I turn my head, drinking in the lust that greets me and know this ‘no’ has everything to do with my questions last night. Our eyes stay locked as his grip tightens on my waist.
“I know what I’m holding, I know her worth,” he whispers, his words so intimate that for a second, I think I’ve imagined them. “I’m not a teenage boy with his first hard-on. And even when I was, I’ve never tried to prove myself to anyone by using my dick as an exclamation point. I told you everything you needed to know last night. This is your decision, Cecelia, don’t turn it on me.”
I sit stunned, blinking several times before he grips the back of my neck, a harsh exhalation hitting my lips before he kisses me.
Deeply.
So deeply, I struggle for air, for sanity, as he takes and takes and I open for him, my limbs going lax. In his kiss, I lose a part of myself, his words lifting me above ground while his tongue coaxes me into this moment with him. Mouths molding, he lifts my T-shirt, breaking just long enough to bare me fully. And then his lips are back and capture my moan as we fuse. Drunk by the intensity of our exchange, I sink into him, my body lines up with his while he controls our rhythm with his tongue. Cradled, surrounded, my chest rises and falls with him as we drift into the deep end.
Lips drifting, teeth nipping, he latches to my neck and lifts me, pushing his sweats down. Gripping him tight, his grunt hits the back of my throat as I squeeze him from root to engorged tip. He thrusts into my hand before reaching between us to find the evidence of my desire. He groans into my mouth, palming my pussy, the heel of his hand massaging my clit as he presses his finger into me. Breaking from his kiss, a loud moan escapes me as his fingers conquer and my head falls back to fit in the crook of his neck. We work each other into a frenzy before he pulls back, his order clipped.
“Bedside drawer.”
I’m up in a second, plucking a condom from the box, I hurry back to where he sits in his chair. Kneeling, I look up to where he watches me, gripping him in my hand a second before I take him in my mouth. His hips jerk at the contact.
“Fuck,” Dom grits out. I hollow my cheeks and tighten my lips around the length of him before taking him to the back of my throat.
He traces his finger around the stretch of my lips as I suck him deep before my greed gets the best of me and release him with a pop. Rolling the latex on his cock, I lift to stand and he turns me, massaging my ass, spreading me, his fingers probing lower, dipping to ready me. Taking his cue, I grip the handles of his chair as he lines up his thick dick at my entrance, and I slowly sink onto him, the angle and intrusion, stretching me full.
When I’m seated, a gasp escapes me just as a groan bursts from his lips at the nape of my neck. He pushes us away from the desk, his legs anchoring us to the floor before he reclines us back in the chair so I’m practically laying on top of him. He thrusts up just as I begin to move, and I lose my breath, calling out his name.
“You,” he pants, his voice hoarse. The appreciation in that one word is enough. It’s all I need.
He runs his good hand along my chest, cupping my breast before sliding it down to where we connect. His strokes are methodical, slow, thorough. The feel of him is incredible and only adds to my elevation from his admission. This can’t be Dominic.
But it is.
This is him.
&n
bsp; Body tense, my suspended toes curl with every thrust. The sensation of him beneath me overwhelming as he fucks me gently, my body gliding along his chest. Rotating my hips, I meet him thrust for thrust until we both snap, needing more. He roots deeper as his finger coaxes me, running up and down my soaked clit. Collectively working together, our breaths the only sound in the room, he dips his finger lower, adding it to the stretch of his cock, and I shudder.
“Dom…G-G-God.”
I’m quivering from head to foot when he bites down on my shoulder. My orgasm crests just as he thrusts up, encouraging me to ride the wave as it rolls through me. It takes every bit of my strength not to go limp once I come down, but the feel of him, his pants at my ear, fuel me and I swivel my hips and dip my hand to squeeze the base of him.
“Damn,” he mumbles as he thrusts up, holding us both off the chair, once, twice, his exhale a total surrender at my neck when he comes.
Dazed, I turn my head to receive his crushing kiss, my temple damp, a thin veil of exertion covering both of us. When we break, we just stare at the other wordless, sated. And then slowly, so slowly, his lips tilt fully, knocking me senseless. It’s my first genuine smile, and I snap away, knowing it’s a mental picture I will never forget.
I stand and head to the bathroom for a towel, soaking it with warm water before coming back just as he discards the condom. He takes my offered towel, cleaning his lap before pulling up his sweats. Completely clueless on how to do after sex with Dominic, I brace myself for rude words, a cruel brushoff, but he surprises me by cupping my neck, pulling me flush to him and kissing me. I expect it to be brief, but he keeps our mouths fused and I eagerly kiss him back. We stand in the center of his bedroom as if it’s our first kiss all over again, exploring each other. With the advantage of both hands, I run them down his chest to the growing bulge in his sweats. All traces of that smile disappear when silver-grey eyes hood.
“Get on the bed.”
DOMINIC FLIPS ANOTHER PAGE AS I run my finger along his happy trail and over his toned stomach. I note the title, 1984 by George Orwell, as I lay sprawled diagonally facing him where he sits propped against his headboard. The same position I’ve been in for the last ten or so minutes as he’s shamelessly ignored me since I got out of the shower. It’s storming heavily outside, the day seeming night in his bedroom. The rain beats on the roof as he flips another page, the only light in the room coming from the screensaver on his computer and a small bedside lamp.
“You just going to ignore me while you read all day?”
“Yep,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Well then, I have better things to do.” I move to get up and he slides his hand down my back before molding it over the curve of my ass. My eyes close in remembrance of the past few hours of being at his mercy. I’m sore, more than sore, I’ve been fucked to within an inch of living. My afterglow dims considerably when Sean crosses my mind, and in those seconds, I become paralyzed by guilt. I can’t for the life of me figure out how this is going to be okay for him, for either of them, when I could never handle being in their shoes while they shared their body with someone else. But Sean’s not here, and I don’t know if that’s why I’m taking such liberties with Dominic. I try and remember the words he spoke to me that day after our tryst on the float, but they bring me no relief. Dominic speaks up behind his book.
“He’s not mad at you. And he won’t be. And you have nothing better to do.”
The wind whips around the house. “He’s not back from his hike. It’s been hours and it’s storming. You think he’s okay?”
Dominic flips another page, reading at lightning speed.
“It’s rude, you know, to ignore a direct question.”
“It’s a stupid question. I don’t answer stupid questions.”
“You are a rare bastard.”
A smirk. “A rare bastard you can’t seem to stop fucking.”
“It takes two,” I run my finger along the band of his pants. Apparently, he deems it inappropriate to read in the nude. “Why did you hate me?”
His gaze drifts from the page to me. “Who says I don’t hate you?”
“I do,” I straddle him, snatch his book, and toss it behind me. His eyes flare in annoyance as I dip low and hover above him, putting my hands on his shoulders to pin him down. “And if this is the closest thing I’m going to get to a date, the least you could do is give me a little conversation.”
“A date,” he chuckles dryly, and it stings. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I know, I know, you’re not Sean.”
His eyes snap up to mine. “I’m not.”
“So, tell me who you are.”
“You know who I am.”
“A closet geek and introvert with horrible manners and excellent taste in music. It was you who played DJ at the party you kicked me out of, wasn’t it?”
He nods. “I was working.”
“Until you saw me?”
Another dip of his chin.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“When I was younger and thought getting my dick wet was the second coming of Christ.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
Silence.
“That’s not a stupid question.”
“It is if you find love irrelevant.”
“Why is love irrelevant?”
“Because it doesn’t interest me.”
“What interests you?”
“The book I was reading.” I huff and move off his lap to pick the book up before I hand it to him. He resumes his reading as I move for his door.
“Pick one,” he says just as I reach the handle.
“One what?”
He nods toward the shelves.
I run my hands over my face in frustration. “You drive me insane.”
I move toward the shelf and look over his collection. I pause when I see a few familiar titles. “You have a whole romance section.” I giggle and pull a book from the shelf. When I open it, a receipt falls to the floor. Inspecting it, I see he’s just bought ten books and spent a few hundred dollars opting for some pricy hardcovers over paperbacks. “You just bought these?”
Upon closer inspection, I see most of them are romance titles by my favorite indies. There’s also a few suspense and an older historical, all of them titles from a familiar list that I wrote on a bookmark in my bedroom. When he was in my house, he had to have snooped in my room while Sean was distracting me. “You looked through my stuff?”
He keeps his eyes on his book.
It’s a stupid question. And the answer is so obvious, but I can’t help myself.
“You bought these for me?”
Silence.
And again, I’m floating off the ground as he continues to read, feigning indifference. But I know differently now, and it changes everything. Beneath that mask is a man who’s been paying attention, very close attention to me.
He turns another page and pulls an empty pillow closer to his shoulder. He wants me to read, with him, in his bed. And what better way to pass a day in stormy weather than curling up with a gorgeous man and getting lost in the words.
Hours later, he’s on his second book, and I’m deep into an erotic suspense, my breath growing shallow as I flip the page and begin to ache. Dominic’s scent envelops me as I reach out and tentatively run a hand down his chest. We’ve been like this, stroking each other’s skin on occasion since I sidled up next to him. Desire runs through me as I get to the part where all of the delicious tension explodes and that’s when I feel his kiss on my stomach, my eyes drift from the page when he jerks me to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs.
I move to set down my book and he jerks his chin.
“Keep reading.” He lowers his head as I attempt to resume my reading as he spreads me, thrusting his tongue into my center. I’m already close when he begins to lap at my clit. Dropping the paperback on my chest, I thrust my hands in his hair and he stops, the command in
his eyes clear as I pick up my book, my thighs shaking as I try to read the paragraph for the third time. His thick fingers plunge into me just as the hero starts to pound into her, ripping at her hair, taunting her with filthy words. The words start to blur again as I get lost in Dominic’s torture, my mind far more interested in my own story.
He wraps his lips around my clit, sucking hard as I lose the grip on my book. The sight of him alone makes it impossible to follow his order.
“Dom,” I beg when he halts all movement, but he doesn’t budge. It’s only when I grapple for the book that he resumes, running his fingers along my lips to spread me before dipping his head and jackhammering his tongue along my clit.
Hyperaware of his every touch, I come undone on his tongue and lose it altogether when I hear the sound of a condom wrapper before he slowly pushes into me. In seconds, he puts the book hero to shame as he fucks me with ruthless abandon.
He’s only a few thrusts in when I throw the book across the room, not giving a damn about the ending.
THE DAY SPENT IN DOMINIC’S bed is completely unexpected and utterly blissful. We have a small picnic on his comforter after ordering Thai, and then he rolls us a blunt. Stuffed and smoked out, we lay on our backs, both listening to and discussing Pink Floyd. Dominic’s enthusiasm never wavers as he explains his ideas on some of the lyrics to the more cryptic songs.
We gaze up at the ceiling, our hands brushing, the window wide open as the music duels with the pouring rain.
It’s one of the best days I’ve ever had, just being at his side, our shared touches, the frenzy of kisses, the endless fucking, our laugh infused conversations and the rare, full smiles I draw from him when he lets me. This day has been astonishingly intimate. He’s let me get a peek into his world. Much like Sean, Dominic is nothing at all like I thought he would be. Past his remarkable, yet hostile exterior lies much, much more. He’s very much an idealist like Sean, and in conversations I can see the impression, the impact each has made on the other. This trust they have for one another, I envy it. When Sean told me that he needed my trust last night over everything else, I thought I understood, but not in the way Dominic has helped me understand today with just a few comments about Sean in conversation. And some part of me is comforted by that, not only because of the way they have each other’s backs but for my own selfish reasons too.
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