16. Chapter Sixteen #2
My fingers lift to his head as he rubs his face between my breasts, the roughness of his shaved beard and the wet heat from his mouth turning me desperate.
“Dom,” I moan, reaching for the waistband of his pants. My hand slips in easily, and it curls around him, stroking loosely.
He lifts his head, eyes wild—the black nearly swallowed by white.
“Hell,” he breathes, ragged and low, like the word has been punched out of him. His chest heaves once or twice like he’s fighting to stay sane.
My grip tightens. He groans, sharp and guttural, and his head drops back, his jaw clenched and throat exposed.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he rasps, a crooked smile flickering across his lips.
I lean in, close enough that my breath brushes his ear as I drag my fist down the length of him, then back up, slow and deliberate.
He shudders, and I feel it rush through him and into my hand. “Should I make you earn it?” he growls as he pulls my hand out, grabs the other, and pins them behind my back.
My bottom lip quivers, but it’s with excitement. I can feel myself… wet, aroused, waiting for him to touch me how he wants.
“Not here,” he says. “I want you spread out and wide-eyed when I bring you to climax. When my tongue is between your thighs, I want you fisting the sheets, shaking because you know I won’t stop until you break for me.”
He shouldn’t be the one to break me. I shouldn’t let anyone see me like this, open, needy, completely at someone else’s mercy.
No one has ever gotten this close or made me want to be touched this badly.
But I lean back anyway, biting my lip hard as my chest rises, breath shallow, while Dom peels my shorts down and spreads my legs wider.
His touch is light, teasing, and cruel. The slow drag of his finger in lazy circles, inching higher to my pussy. It’s close enough that I tremble and could fall apart from the promise alone.
Then he drops to his knees.
I gasp as his mouth replaces his hand, and he licks once, slow and thorough, and I nearly slide off the counter with a muffled sob.
“Dom—”
He lifts his head with a lazy smile, then dips low and licks me again, until it’s all I can do not to scream. And then, suddenly, I’m weightless.
He lifts me without a word, strong arms curling under my thighs as my legs hook around his waist. “You thought that was it?” He laughs when I give him a confused look. “You asked me to prove a point, Sophie Greco. I’m anything if not thorough.”
Thorough has my ass bouncing on his thighs with every step he takes, his hard-on pressing against my bare skin. I drop my head on his shoulder, breathing heavily.
Dom drops me on the bed and kisses me hard, muddling my brain before I can gather a single thought. His mouth moves to my neck, then lower, and I feel him smiling against my skin.
“I want to hear how you sound when you come with my tongue inside you,” he murmurs, voice rough, “and then I want to fuck you so deep you feel me even when you’re not thinking about me.”
“But before then,” he pulls away so fast that the cold that replaces his warmth feels like a slap. “I need to get something.”
He leaves and returns before I can feel self-conscious, holding a bottle of wine and a glass. The wine I was drinking.
“What…?” I frown. “What is that for?”
He makes his way to the bed and pauses at the edge, eyes trailing slowly over my body, drinking me with so much desire.
“You were drinking earlier,” he murmurs. “It’s my turn now. But I want to drink it off you. The taste of your skin, the smell of red wine…” He pours some into the glass and sets the bottle down. “It’s the perfect combination, don’t you think?”
I think he might ruin me.
Holding the wine glass steady, Dom climbs onto the bed and settles beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him before he even touches me. My breath stutters. My pulse ticks like a time bomb behind my ribs.
He lifts the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact, and takes a slow sip.
Then he leans in, catching my chin between his fingers and guiding my mouth to his.
The kiss is deep, intoxicating, stained with the dark taste of wine and everything I’ve been aching for. His tongue sweeps mine, greedy and unhurried, like he wants me to know exactly what I’m about to surrender to.
I whimper into his mouth—just a little—and he pulls back, watching me with a look that pins me in place.
“Let’s see how you taste with it,” he murmurs, voice dark and velvet-smooth.
He tips the glass slowly.
The wine spills—warm and red—between my breasts, sliding down my skin in a slow, sticky trail. I gasp, hips twitching, and he watches every drop like it’s priceless.
Then he bends low, with his mouth open, and his tongue chases the path it made, straight between my legs and over the curls below my stomach.
When his mouth closes around my clit, sucking every drop clean, my body bows off the bed, and my vision implodes. My fingernails dig into the sheets, and my toes curl as I orgasm, feeling every part of me tear away as I plunge into oblivion, shuddering from head to toe.
My teeth clatter as I struggle to breathe, but I’m barely steady when Dom kisses me again—hungry and claiming—then slides between my thighs and thrusts deep.
He lifts my legs around his waist, driving into me with a rhythm that feels desperate and deliberate all at once.
All I know is the stretch, the fullness, the way he groans against my neck like he’s losing his mind right along with me.
“You take me so well,” he pants, “so fucking tight—look at you.”
I do, and that’s all it takes.
My body shatters around him, clenching hard with another climax as I cry out. He thrusts deeper, chasing his release like he’s chasing my soul.
And maybe, for a second, when we both collapse together, it feels like he has it.