Chapter 8
Do I think I can handle that?
Pfft! Fuck ya, I can handle that. Now, if I could just get my words to work. With the feel of Dom’s hard body pressed up against mine, it’s making it hella difficult.
All I get out is “Mmmfffpn!” That doesn’t sound coherent at all.
I can’t let him distract me. I came over here ready to give him hell. To tell him he needs to stop treating me with kid gloves.
Do I hope the night ends with dicks touching? Yes, I very much do.
Ugh, mad Beckett, you’re supposed to be mad!
“I came over here to yell at you.” Finally words.
“Which is rightfully deserved. Right now, my mind is racing with ways I could apologize to you.”
He really needs to stop sucking that spot. “Do you ahh… have any ideas?”
“Mmmm, oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. Have you ever given up control, Beckett?”
I shake my head… “Show me.”
He grips me a little tighter with a growl.
“Wait,” I say, pulling away.
He lifts his hands like I’ve got a weapon; I huff and gently pull them down to his sides.
“Before we do this,” I say. “I owe you an apology. Using Lucas to make you jealous was shitty, and I’m sorry. I was pissed at you, and I handled it like a brat instead of an adult.”
He grumbles, “I still don’t like him.”
A laugh slips out of me. “Yeah, well, you might have to. He’s thinking about moving here. And he is a good guy, even if his wardrobe screams bougie villain.”
I step in closer, sliding my arms around his waist. For a second, I just… feel him. The solid warmth of muscles I want to snuggle into, the way my head tucks perfectly into the curve of his neck. I press a soft kiss against his pulse and feel it jump under my mouth.
I drag my hands up the sides of his arms and over his strong shoulders that you know carry the weight of the world. “Let me apologize properly, Dom,” I whisper in his ear.
His moan fills the void between the silence and our harsh breaths as he pushes his impressive bulge against mine. I lean back and look him in the eye, never losing contact as I slowly lower myself to my knees.
“Use me.”
His head rolls back with a groan before his eyes meet mine once again, this time with an eyebrow raised.
I give a little nod.
“Take me out, little mouse.”
Oh, fuck, oh fuck. That was so hot!
As nonchalantly as possible, I grasp my dick. If I don’t do something, I’m gonna come in my pants because that… was… so fucking hot!
Dom tsks and shakes his head. “Mine.”
With a huff, I release my aching cock and bring my hand up to the waistband of his jeans. I unbutton them, then slowly lower his zipper just enough to lean in to mouth the fabric of his black boxer briefs.
“Is that how you apologize, little mouse, by teasing me?” His hand cups my cheek, and his thumb traces my lips. “Take me out, amore.”
I stop the torment for both of us and pull down his underwear and jeans. His cock springs free. My mouth waters. Let the gay angels sing.
I’m a cock slut. I like cock, and Dom’s cock is the chef’s kiss. Long, silky, with just the right amount of girth and that single vein my tongue is dying to trace.
I look up from under my lashes. The heat fueling his eyes causes me to suck in a breath.
“Now suck me.”
I take his cock in my mouth, feeling the weight of it rest against my tongue. I devour him. Dom doesn’t come off as someone who wants slow and soft, so I suck hard and deep. His hands fly up, fisting my hair as his hips buck.
“This is gonna be fast and dirty, baby. Tap if you need me to ease up.”
My eyes roll back in my head as he fucks into my mouth. I do my best to keep up with his punishing pace. I choke and gag on his cock, making all the pretty sounds he wants to hear.
“Oh, fuck yeah. Just like that, baby. Let me use that pretty mouth of yours. If you can make me come, all will be forgiven, and then I can beg you for forgiveness.”
Shit, shit, shit. Dom on his knees for me? I never thought he’d… holy shit. With renewed vigor, the next time he hits the back of my throat, I swallow.
“Oh fuuuuuck. Back away if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”
Do I back away? Psh, no!
I grab his ass, take his cock deep, and then swallow again. It pushes him over the edge, and he lets out a roar as his body goes stiff, rope after rope of his cum sliding down my throat.
I pull off, sucking in some much-needed oxygen. “Damn, I rocked that.”
“You were perfection,” Dom says, and I almost preen. See? Cock slut.
I don’t get to bask in my glory for long before I’m hauled to my feet and over Dom’s shoulder. I let out a yip before I’m gracefully thrown onto the couch with a sexy bounce.
Then Dom drops… to … his… knees.
“I never thought I would see the day,” I tease.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, little mouse. I may like control, but I’m not a selfish lover. Now, I’m pretty sure I owe you an apology.”
I nod like a dashboard bobblehead on a wooden roller coaster.
This is going to end embarrassingly quickly.
His palms travel up my thighs and then over the stretched material of my jeans against my hard and aching cock. He undoes the button, and with a tap of my hip, he encourages me to lift. He pulls off my jeans and underwear, spreading my legs.
My balls hang heavy, and my cock is hard.
“Beautiful,” he says at the display.
He leans in, teasing my cock with a twirl of his tongue around the head. “You’d better hold on to something, baby.” I fist the cushions at the feel of his hot, wet mouth enveloping my cock.
My gaze is fixated as Dom—big, strapping Dom—down on his knees, takes me from root to tip. His hands cradle my balls, giving them a squeeze with just the right amount of pressure.
I’m a babbling mess as he becomes relentless in his mission of making me come. “Oh, fuck, Dom. If this is the way you apologize, feel free to piss me off whenever you want.”
Dom slides his hands under my shirt, causing my nipples to pebble.
“Hngh! I’m so close. I’m gonna come!”
Dom pulls off my cock so fast you would think my grunt was the secret safe word of the day.
“What? Why did you stop?”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, little mouse.”
Ugh, that fucking nickname.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be apologizing to me?” I say breathlessly. My chest heaves as I struggle to gain control of my breathing.
“I’ll always apologize when I’ve made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean you still don’t have to follow the rules.”
“Rules, what rules?”
Dom wraps his hand around my length and starts pumping my cock.
“I guess we haven’t gone over them yet. The biggest and most important rule of them all is that I own your orgasms, Beckett. When I’m ready for you to come, then you can come.”
“Have them. Take them. Do what you must.” I lay the dramatics on thick.
He rolls his eyes before picking up the pace. “So,” he says. “Do you want to come, Beckett?”
“Yes.” Oh, fuck yes.
“Then you need to ask, baby.” The wet heat of his mouth wraps around my cock, and I lose all train of thought. Ask… all I heard was the word ask. If I weren’t so desperate, I would fuck with him.
I can feel the telltale tingle of my orgasm building again. Shit, I’d better hurry.
“Fuck, Dom. Can I come? Please, can I fucking come?”
“Give me your load, baby.” All it takes is one more stroke of his fist and the strong pull from his mouth as he sucks me off.
I let out a cry, throwing my head back. My muscles tense and my toes curl as my orgasm steals all my breath. He sucks me until there’s nothing left and my cock is oversensitive. I let out a hiss.
Dom finally pulls off.
That was by far the best blow job I’ve ever had.
“That was… can we… I wanna do it again.”
Dom chuckles as I pull up my underwear, and he moves up to lie on the couch next to me.
I study his profile. “Are you going to freak out again now?”
“Beckett, I’m never gonna be perfect.”
“I’m not asking you to be. I know I have my own hangups, so I would never ask that of anyone. Just… don’t regret me to my face.”
“Baby, I do not regret kissing you or sucking your brains out through your cock.” He pulls me in and I snuggle into his side like he said something whoreishly romantic. He kisses the top of my head.
“I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel like I did,” he goes on. “I came back to tell you I’d been an idiot, but you were already gone. I got spooked, only way I know how to say it.”
“And here I thought big, bad Dom was unspookable.”
“So did I,” he admits quietly.
The honesty in it punches a hole in my chest.
“Are you ever gonna trust me enough to tell me what happened?” he asks.
“It’s not about trust. It’s… it’s about embarrassment.”
He tips his head. “What could you possibly be embarrassed about? Packing up and moving across the country to study and become an amazing chef? That’s not exactly a tragic origin story.”
“Yeah, too bad I couldn’t hack it.” I say, rolling my eyes at myself.
“Beckett.” His voice drops, that gentle warning thing that makes you listen. “Why do you cook?”
“Because I like putting different ingredients together and making something that tastes good—so good you crave it. Because… because I love food.”
“And why did you fly off to California?”
“So I could learn how to do that better.” I squint at him. “Where are you going with this, Dom? You don’t know why I came back. For all you know, I was my professor’s worst nightmare.”
“I know you,” he says.
“No, you—”
“Wait.” He shifts, turning so we’re face to face, knees pressed together. It’s Dom in lecture mode. Worse than Jaxon, because when Dom decides to talk, everyone shuts the fuck up.
“I know you,” he repeats. His hand curls around the side of my neck, thumb warm at my jaw. “I know the man you are right now. When I asked why you cook, not once did you say, ‘So I can have my name on some pretentious menu in a fancy restaurant.’”
“I don’t want that,” I admit. “At least not anymore. I’ve decided it’s not the kind of life I want for myself.”
“What happened to make you decide that?”
I hesitate, then exhale. “I looked around and realized everyone near me would do anything to get ahead. Lie, cheat, use. And then I went and fell for the oldest trick in the book.”
“What trick?” he asks, voice careful.
“Make someone fall for you so you can steal what’s theirs. In my case, my grandmother’s recipes.”
My stomach twists as I look up at him, braced for judgment. Pity. The how could you be that stupid look.
Instead, his eyes flare. His jaw sets. “What the fuck,” Dom growls.
“Yep,” I say bitterly. “Then I realized that besides Lucas, I didn’t trust anyone out there.
So I pivoted. I want to share the joy of cooking with everyone, and what better way than to publish a cookbook featuring my grandmother’s recipes.
And when I thought about starting over, I thought of Finn.
He got out and did it right when he left his family so he could surround himself with better people.
His found family.” I shrug. “If he could rebuild, maybe I could too.”
“All because of you, I might add.”
I make a face. “That’s a stretch.”
He gives me that look, chin dipped, brow raised, like try me. “He chose better. You introduced him to better. That counts.”
“Doesn’t change that I let someone manipulate me.”
“But you have your grandmother’s recipes, right? You can still publish your cookbook.”
“I do,” I say. “But that’s not the point. He’s trying to pass them off as his. And then Lucas called, which you were privy to, and said Pierre landed a deal off them, and I just—” I break off, groaning, burying my face in my hands. “Some pivot, right? Straight into a cellar door.”
Dom pulls my hands away. “Do I need to hurt him? You know I don’t like physical violence, but I will.”
I blink fast, staring at the ceiling. “I’m so tired, Dom. Everything keeps falling apart.”
He hooks a finger under my chin. “Hey. Look at me.”
Through a blur of unshed tears, I do what he says.
“So you pivot again,” he says.
I huff a laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Only because you made it look easy once already,” he counters. “You still cook incredible food. You’ve got Spencer backing you, giving you room to play. You’re not done.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “I don’t want some basic, soulless book. I want it personal. Heartfelt. Not a collection of stolen Betty Crocker recipes.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile with it. “Yeah.”
“Why your grandmother’s recipes?”
I’m pretty sure my look right now is giving off what the fuck vibes. “What kind of question is that? Why the fuck do you think? She’s my grandmother, my family.”
“Exactly,” he says. “So you pivot from one kind of family to another. Look at who you’ve got now. What if the book is about that? The recipes you grew up with and the family you chose.”
I sit forward, elbows on my knees, mind already spinning. Recipes from Jaxon and Alex. Something from Finn. One of Olly’s cupcakes. Maybe Spencer’s first menu dish. A quilt of all of us.
I turn back to him, excitement pushing past the heaviness. “I could ask everyone for recipes. Stories. Make it… ours.”
“Yeah,” Dom says. His eyes are warm, proud in a way that makes my heart stutter. “That’s the one I’d buy.”
Something in me snaps loose. I climb onto his lap without thinking, knees bracketing his hips.
“I could just kiss you,” I breathe.
“Then do it,” he says.
So I do, my hands on his cheeks, mouth to his in a kiss that starts soft and grateful, but then, in the span of a heartbeat, turns into something deeper. His fingers press into my hips, anchoring me there like he plans to keep me.
And for the first time in a long time, crashing and burning doesn’t feel inevitable. It feels like flying on purpose.