“Gigi.” He reached out to grab my wrist, like Brock had earlier. I drew it away. In a lower voice, I leaned toward him. “If you like me, Dom, then show me.”
“Show you?” His voice sounded dangerous.
But I kept on going. “Meet me tomorrow. It’s going to be gorgeous out. I want to go to the beach.”
“The beach?” Now he looked like I’d lost my mind.
“Yes, have you ever heard of it? It’s this sandy thing with ocean waves next to it.” He looked down at me, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Meet me at my house at 11. Or don’t, and then whatever this is”—I gestured between us—“don’t worry, it’ll be over.”
I swept out of the club on the wings of my boldness. When the day had started out I never thought it would have ended like that, with me giving Dom an ultimatum. But I guessed even sweet little me had limits. I’d been walking around half-crazed over the man and I had to know—was he feeling it, too? Or was it time for me to swallow the bitter pill of rejection and move on? I’d find out tomorrow.
* * *
§
* * *
I didn’t have to wait long. Eleven o’clock arrived and so did Dom, in that huge black truck I’d seen him working on the other day. I guessed he’d fixed it up.
He stepped out looking like he could melt my panties with a single glance, a T-shirt hugging his muscles, board shorts slung low.
“You came!” I couldn’t stop myself from rushing out to meet him, all my tough and bold words from the night before melting into bubbling excitement.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll always make sure you come first.” He winked at me and I paused a moment before getting his dirty joke. That didn’t take long. He’d only just arrived and already we were talking about sex. I didn’t know what had changed in him, but I could tell something had. The thought that he might not be fighting the attraction between us anymore made me giddy.
Our flirtation started fast and didn’t stop. As we walked down the wooden path, he teased me about what a spoiled rich girl I was with my own private beach. As we put our things down and I realized he hadn’t brought a towel, I sassed him over whether he thought he was too tough to need to dry off. Like towels were for wimps. But when I slipped off my sundress and revealed my skimpy string bikini, he had absolutely nothing to say. In the best way possible.
“No smart-ass comments?” I teased him, flouncing my hair back over my shoulder as I turned to head toward the shed and get out some lounge chairs.
“I like your ass,” he murmured, following me. I smiled. It was fun to get him riled up.
We set out our chairs, then headed down to the water where we flirted at the shore, him tickling me, me trying to splash him. For a man of his size he was quick, and strong, too. He lifted me right up and threatened to dump me into the waves as I squealed and laughed.
Back up at our spot, he pulled me into a lounge chair with him, right onto his lap. “So all this is yours, huh?” He gestured around at the beach, the unspoiled sand, the sparkling blue water stretching into cloudless pale blue sky.
“My father’s,” I agreed. “Over to the rocks.” I gestured in the distance to the outcropping marking our property boundary.
“And your father doesn’t ever come here to enjoy it? Hell, if I owned this you’d never be able to drag me away from it.”
“He’s been staying at his other house this summer.”
“His other house?”
“Yes, he has one closer to town.”
“Two houses,” Dom repeated for clarification. “In the Hamptons.” I nodded. I guessed it was extravagant. But my father was a billionaire. I didn’t like advertising it, but I was sure he could buy a whole lot more properties in the Hamptons without ever feeling pinched.
“I’m afraid it’s just us here today,” I sighed, re-focusing him on the up-side. No father around to monitor our behavior. We could do anything we wanted.
“Just us, huh?” He wrapped his hands around my waist and lowered his head. “I have no idea what we’ll do with the time.” His lips found mine and my stomach flipped with exhilaration. I could feel it in the way he kissed me. He was done holding back. Now he was doing what he wanted, and what he wanted was to kiss me on the beach.
I twined my fingers through his hair, nibbled his lower lip, licked and kissed and moaned into his mouth. He tasted so good, so forbidden and dangerous and I’d wanted him for so long. I felt like liquid fire in his embrace, like I’d taken a shot of bourbon and it warmed me to my core.
“It’s no fair,” I whined, playfully, fisting his T-shirt in my hand. “I’m wearing next-to-nothing but you’ve still got your shirt on.”
“You want my shirt off?” he asked with a sexy smile. I nodded. I really wanted it off. He shifted me away for a moment, still on his lap but painfully not touching so he could remove his shirt. The second it dropped to the side, I was on him shamelessly, running my hands over his chest, digging my fingers into his shoulders, tracing the tattoos I’d admired from a distance.
We kissed and touched, suits still on but exploring all the skin we could, our panting breaths mingling and growing more heated until he groaned. Breaking off a kiss, he entwined his fingers through mine and rested his forehead against mine. I squirmed on his lap, not wanting a breather, needing my hands still roaming free all over him. I wanted more.
“I want to touch you.” I twisted against his grip, pushing my breasts toward his chest, wanting no distance between us at all. I wanted to inhale him and he me, every second, for the rest of the day and all night.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he panted, insisting on keeping my hands off of him.
“Let me,” I whispered, leaning down to give his throat a lick. I’d never felt so crazed, never been so brazen before. Most of the time I’d fended guys off, feeling more bored during a makeout session than anything else. Now? I thought I might die if I didn’t get to touch him again, kiss him, twine my tongue with his and stroke him until he made that deep, guttural sound in his throat again. I liked that a lot.
“You are playing with so much fire,” he warned me, but he didn’t push me away. He didn’t let my wrists go, either. He held them together in one hand, but then brought the other one up to my bikini top. “I like this on you.” He traced the edges of the triangles and I squirmed on his lap, feeling a rush of wet heat between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, whimpering as he found my erect nipples and toyed with them through the swimsuit.
“I like how you can’t hide anything from me,” he murmured as he dipped his mouth down to my breasts, kissing, licking my soft exposed skin along the sides of the triangles. I groaned and wantonly arched my back, pushing my breasts into his mouth. It felt so fucking good, like he was devouring me and I cursed my damn swimsuit for creating even the flimsiest barrier. The way he held my hands behind my back, frustrating as it was, made me even hotter. It felt like he was controlling me, in charge.
“You like how this feels?” he whispered, licking, slowly sliding the bikini triangle to the side of my nipple.
“Oh, Dom, yes,” I moaned, wanting desperately for him to move faster, expose me, suck me, do whatever he wanted.
“You’re so eager, Gigi,” he praised and teased me at the same time, not touching my exposed nipple yet, moving instead over to the other side to free my other one. Both stuck out with hard, aroused, pink tips. His hand was so big he could cup both my breasts with it and squeeze them together.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he exhaled, admiring the sight of my arousal, until finally he dove in, feasting on me, sucking and licking and laving my sensitive nipples with his tongue and lips, pulling on me and soothing and driving me completely wild all at once.
“Dom,” I panted, grinding against him, moaning. “Dom.” I didn’t even know what I was asking for. All I knew was I felt such driving, intense, pounding pressure. Building up, it felt like I was going to explode.
“Are you wet, baby?” he asked.
He freed my wrists, and I brought my hands up to his shoulders as he stroked my waist, then the triangle below.
“Can I see?” He looked into my eyes, asking my permission.
“Yes,” I panted, ready to rip my bikini off for him if he didn’t get to it fast.
He undid one side, then the other and the triangle fell down, exposing my bare, slick pussy. It felt so dirty and so good, showing him how aroused he’d gotten me. When he saw me, he drew in his breath like he’d been punched.
“Fuck.” He looked at me like a starving man seeing a banquet. “You’re so wet. And you’re bare.”
“Do you like that?” I whispered, the slightest hint of shyness breaking into my lust. I’d gotten in the habit of getting waxed a year or so ago. With all the skimpy dresses and tiny panties I wore, it made sense, plus all my sorority sisters made a regular pilgrimage to the salon. But maybe he preferred the natural look.
“You’re so hot,” he panted, his fingers gripping my hips, digging into my skin. It felt like he was trying to stop himself from touching me. That was the last thing I wanted.
“Do you want to touch me?” I asked, parting my legs slightly.
He groaned his response and slowly slid his thick index finger down to my pussy, glistening for him. He stroked, gentle, reverent, and then found it right away, that elusive spot that brought me so much pleasure yet no other man had managed to get to it yet. Honestly, even I, alone in the darkness of my bedroom, hadn’t managed to make myself feel this good.
My head tossed back, cradled in his arms, I couldn’t form a coherent thought. I wasn’t even fully aware of the words tumbling out of my mouth. I could hear myself calling out, sighing, asking him please, please, I needed more.
“Shhh,” he soothed me, holding me tight against his side, pinning me against him, keeping me still. “I’m taking my time with you.” He thrust his finger in slow, so slow, circling it lazy around my sensitive nub. He watched me as he did it, riveted by my passion, locked in on the sight of his fingers wet with my arousal, moving slick and slow, in and out of my virgin pussy.
“Dom,” I moaned, bucking up against him, creating the friction I needed so badly.
“We go at my pace,” he insisted, stern, holding down my hip and then easing his broad thumb against my clit. “I want to memorize every second of this,” he said, husky and low. “I’m going to make it last as long as I can.”
I’d never wanted anything so badly, or felt so enraptured by the denial. How could I be enjoying the torture? It drove me insane, feeling him pin me down, take his time with me, coaxing more and then more pleasure as I spread my legs and gave him all the access he wanted, his finger going deeper into me with each thrust.
“So tight,” he grit out, fixated on my soaking wet pussy. I whimpered, biting my lip, turning my face into his chest. I didn’t know how much more I could take. “Show me how you want it, baby,” he encouraged me. He didn’t want me holding back. “Let me hear you.”
“Oh God!” I cried out, feeling strong shudders make their way up from deep inside me. “Dom!” I screamed as pleasure took over. He thrust his finger in so far, farther than he had before, his thumb against my clit as I writhed and called his name, wave after wave of intense ecstasy shivering through my entire body.
“Yes.” He savored my response, like a warrior in victory. “Like that.”
Cooing, mewling, panting and sweaty, I sank against his chest, a heavy fog surrounding all my senses. He pet me, coaxing a last shudder through my limbs as they went limp. Then he shocked me, bringing his fingers drenched in my juices up to his lips. He sucked on them like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever tasted. My eyes widened. I’d always thought guys didn’t like the taste of a woman and that’s why they didn’t like going down on them. But Dom closed his eyes and moaned deep in his chest with pleasure as he licked me from his fingers. I watched him, fascinated, too languid and satisfied to feel shy.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned.
“Really?” I couldn’t help ask.
That made him look at me, dark with promise. “Next time, I’m going to eat your pussy. And you’re going to come in my mouth.”
I shivered and sighed, as much from his intensity as from the image. He seemed so crazed over me, like he couldn’t get enough. Exactly how I felt.
“That was amazing.” Weakly, I brought my hand to his chest. I could feel his heart beating fast. “Dom,” I started quietly, not knowing if he could already sense what I was about to say. “That was my first.”
He went still. “What?”
“My first orgasm.” If I wasn’t feeling so damn good I might feel self-conscious about the revelation, but hell, we’d already shared a lot. I wanted him to know how much it meant to me.
“Wow.” He held me to him and bent down to give me such a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”
I smiled. “I think I should be thanking you.”
“Haven’t you ever given yourself one?”
“No. I guess I’m not doing it right.” I’d spent some exploratory time down there, of course, and I’d given myself some tingles but I’d never made it to the explosion. I honestly had had no idea what I was missing.
“Well, you’re going to have to practice then,” he told me, and he only sounded slightly teasing.
“Is that my homework, professor?” I smiled up at him, tracing my fingers along his chest. What a magnificent man he was, so defined and strong and he smelled so good, his musk mixing with the salty ocean breeze.
“Yes, it is.” His voice grew lower, more commanding. “You’re going to have to work hard on that assignment. And then show me what you’ve learned.”
I laughed a little nervously, thinking he probably wasn’t serious. But he sure as hell looked serious as he gazed at me with hooded eyes. He did want me to show him.
Then he looked up and off into the horizon. When he spoke again he sounded more distant. “And you’re going to need to learn how to take care of yourself. You’ll be back in college in a month and a half. I won’t be there to make you feel this good.”
“Don’t talk about that.” I hated hearing him say it.
“Don’t get attached, Gigi,” he warned me. “Enjoy this for what it is.”
We sat together on the gorgeous beach in the perfect summer day and I tried to do exactly that.
6
Dom
“That chick likes it up the ass.” The other guy working the door at the 2am Club leaned over and whispered to me.
“Good to know.” I nodded, having absolutely no intention on making use of the information. Even though the woman had practically tried to stick her tongue down my throat while I’d checked her ID. She’d probably let me do her in the bathroom stall during my break.
When I’d first arrived in East Hampton seven months ago, I’d had my share of fun. Not as much as was offered to me, but I’d indulged. The women in this wealthy town took good care of themselves and they were all out for a good time. I knew how to show it to them.
But now? No interest whatsoever. Even though it would be so much more simple than what I currently had going on.
Gigi. What the fuck was I doing? I knew I shouldn’t have touched her. She wasn’t just a virgin. She’d never even had a goddamned orgasm.
But she’d had one now. Fuck, the sight of her glistening with sweat, desperate and writhing against me as she begged for release, her pussy juices dripping down her thighs. I’d never done crack, but the rush I got from that? It was probably pretty damn close.
I knew I should step away from this pampered billionaire’s daughter, but no way in hell was I going to do it now. She didn’t know it, but the moment I’d caved was the morning she came and brought me coffee at the auto shop. She was so thoughtful and considerate, remembering my coffee order and bringing it to me just to be nice. But that wasn’t what put me over the edge. It was seeing h
er standing in that simple, perfectly clean and spotless white dress. Covered in grease and filth, I’d never felt more like a beast as I’d eyed her hungrily.
And then I’d seen it in her eyes, clear as day: she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She wanted me to reach out and mess up that pretty white dress. She wanted me to drag her down off her pedestal, teach her how nasty she could get and love every second of it. If some random woman hadn’t come over and interrupted us, hell, I would have had Gigi backed up against that truck so fast her head would have spun. I could picture the smear my hand would have made against her breast, her skin nearly as pale as that dress.
After that, it was only a matter of time.
My phone pinged with a text. Gigi and I had gotten in the habit of sending them to each other. Hers were usually sweet and thoughtful, remembering where I was and what I needed to do that day. Mine were nasty, checking in on her homework, seeing if she was making any progress. I was a strict teacher and I demanded her best efforts.
But this text was from my mom.
* * *
Mom: So good to see you today!
* * *
Dom: You, too.
* * *
I returned the phone to my back pocket. It had been weeks since my mother and I had seen each other, and this afternoon I’d stopped by her place for lunch. There’d been nothing in her fridge, though. She was obviously living over with her boyfriend. So I’d ducked out to get us take out and brought it back.
She kept trying to talk about her new guy. “He’s the one!” she’d declared. I kept steering the conversation in other directions. I’d seen these things head south too many times with her, and whenever they did she always hit bottom hard. It was good to see her so happy, though.
Funny thing, she said the same thing to me. “You look so happy!” she’d exclaimed, telling me she’d never seen me smile so much. I grumbled and told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. Even though I knew exactly what she was talking about.
Undeniable: Dom & Gigi Page 7
