Chapter 25
My back slammed into my front door so hard, it should’ve hurt. And maybe it did.
I couldn’t feel anything over the all-consuming fire. It was filling my head with smoke, spitting lava over every inch of my body.
My claws dug deeper into Dominic’s scalp and shoulder, my legs already locked around his trim waist as he devoured my neck like it was his chosen last meal. He licked, bit, kissed, and nibbled until he had me right where he wanted: dangling an inch away from death.
“Bedroom,” I demanded, too out of breath to follow it up with any sort of direction.
He could figure it out.
Blindly.
While our mouths were fused.
I fisted his hair, using it to tilt his head back so I could punish him for toying with my life. The joke was on me, though. He liked it, if the deep, lengthy groan was any indication. I bit him again, harder this time, and we almost toppled over.
“Fuck. Sorry,” he panted when we tilted, clumsily knocking into a wall.
We fell onto my bed in a frantic clutter of limbs, trembling breaths, and gutting starvation. I was famished. Parched. Shaking with need.
His shirt came off first.
It was a hard-fought battle. We clawed, yanked, fumbled until every last button was either freed or discarded.
“Just so we’re clear,” I muttered against his deliciously swollen lips, my greedy hands exploring the vast hardness of his bare chest, “this does not mean I condone what you did.”
“I know.”
“And if you do it again, I’ll—”
“Pain. Violence. Something to do with a sharp weapon and at least one of my vital organs. I know.”
“Good.”
I ripped off his belt. He tore down my zipper.
I tugged. He jerked. We brawled. Until my carpet was littered with fabric, and I was pinned underneath him, my thighs spread to accommodate the delectably heavy press of his hips.
Was he still wearing underwear? Was it just mine still in the way?
I struggled against his grip, needing to yank off my bra and panties before they seared through my skin.
But he was already moving, trailing scorching kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, distracting me while his fingers worked to unclasp my bra and toss it across the room.
Then he peeled himself away, gazing down at me.
“Holy shit,” he whispered through a string of shuddery breaths and slow, half-lidded blinks. My heart almost keeled over when he reached out and grazed my right breast with unsteady fingers.
The lights in his head seemed to go out one by one, until he all but collapsed forward, taking my nipple in his scorching mouth.
A zing of unexpected pleasure stabbed through me when his teeth got involved, and before I knew it, I was writhing against the bounds of his muscled embrace, my fingers stuffed into his hair as his tongue grew more and more creative with its movements.
Releasing me with a lewd, wet pop, he lightly pinched my other nipple and lifted his head to examine the blushing, panting, disoriented mess he’d made of me.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about having you naked underneath me like this? The things I’ve done to you in my head?” He placed a warm, chaste kiss on the slope of my neck. “You can’t even begin to imagine, Alice.”
My fingers curled over the duvet, scorching hot need swirling in my stomach.
“But let’s see if you can at least guess,” he murmured, his palm sliding down my side, lingering appreciatively over the curve of my hip, before slipping between my legs.
I shut my eyes, teeth sinking into my lower lip as he circled my slick entrance with the pad of his finger.
“I told you I would have gotten on my knees and barked like a dog if you’d asked me to at the bar.
Now, what do you think a man who’s been reduced to that would give for permission to taste your pussy just once? ”
He was pressing searing kisses down my chest and stomach before I could respond, making my head spin. I clutched the duvet, my back arching off the bed when he reached his target.
He wasted no time. There was no additional teasing or talking.
He just secured his arms around my thighs and licked my seam with a fractured groan.
“Fuck yes,” he whispered, the words slurring a touch.
Then he used the flat of his tongue to spread me open, and just as I was starting to whimper with pleasure, he pushed a finger into my soaked entrance and suckled my clit.
I catapulted toward the orgasm so fast, my hands started to claw at the duvet for purchase.
“Holy shit,” I gasped.
Dominic groaned, flicking me with his tongue. Within seconds, I was squirming under him, my hips moving, wanting to take control of the rhythm as I clutched his hair.
I was so unprepared for it when he rolled us over that I almost tipped to the side. But he steadied me, locking my thighs in position as he met my gaze, his eyes glimmering with the challenge.
What? He didn’t think I’d do it?
He thought I was too shy?
I quirked a brow, rolling my hips again. Just once. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he gave me a pleased nip that made my stomach tingle. When I did it again, he gripped me tighter and started eating me out with a ravenous hunger that almost made me regret the position.
How the hell was I supposed to hold myself upright when he kept doing that with his tongue?
“Dominic… I… right there. Right—” I broke off with a deep, guttural moan, my hips rolling faster, demanding more from him. I was starting to see stars. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit right… oh my god, yes.”
The buildup was torturously slow, starting from the tips of my fingers and working its way inward until I was practically incoherent with need.
It was the biting that finally did me in.
One firm nip of his teeth, followed by an enthusiastic lap of his tongue, and I collapsed with a shattered cry.
He rolled with me, keeping his face stuffed between my thighs, his tongue coaxing me through to the end of the orgasm and then some, until I finally had to nudge at his head and plead for mercy.
He pulled back with clear reluctance, licking his lips and glaring at me like I’d taken away all his fun.
“Holy crap… you are… really fucking good… at that,” I panted.
He fished a condom out of his wallet and tore it open using his teeth. My thighs spread a touch wider while I watched him roll it onto the most generously proportioned, angriest-looking shaft I’d ever seen.
When he settled on top of me again, he nuzzled my ear.
“If I weren’t dying a slow death with how badly I want to fuck you, I’d have happily spent the rest of the night eating you out.
Do you have any fucking idea how good you taste, Alice?
It’s fucking obscene.” He bit my earlobe, pressing the blunt head of his thick cock against my clit, making me whimper and squirm.
Then he dragged it up. Down. Up. Down. I was going to implode.
“Tomorrow. And I’d prefer you didn’t interrupt me unless you were about to pass out.
I wasn’t even close to getting my fill.”
Then he pushed in.
Finally. Finally.
Finally.
I stuffed my face into his neck, stifling a moan as he worked himself deeper and deeper, cursing and panting and groaning softly in my ear. Until he was buried all the way inside, stretching me to an inch of my life. It was pure, unimaginable bliss.
And everything—every other thought, or worry, or desire I may have had in that moment—melted away.
A thick glaze settled over my thoughts as my body purred; I was breathless.
It wasn’t until he whispered my name that I came back to myself. It was done in such a soft, broken way that it snagged my attention, drawing me to his voice.
Our fingers were laced again, somehow.
“Alice.”
Again, that tone.
I let out a sigh, my eyelids fluttering as his hips finally moved again, retreating a few inches before pushing back in. My toes curled.
He groaned in my ear like I’d put a knife in his chest.
“Fuck, you feel… I’m already…”
One more thrust, and we both let out a weak, crumpled noise.
I was dizzy by the time we fell into a somewhat coherent rhythm, our bodies writhing in perfectly effortless unison.
I’d never felt anything like it. Never climbed toward a climax so quickly from penetration or worked so hard to ward it off, wanting—needing the moment to last just a little longer.
Desperation and agony settled over our breaths, the subtle, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin threatening to cling to the walls of my bedroom and haunt me for as long as I lived here.
Still, it was worth it.
“Fuck, I… let go, Alice,” Dom pleaded in my ear. He released my hand, slipping his fingers between my thighs. “Come on. Come for me. I know you can.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip, fighting against the storm rumbling through me.
Not yet…
“Come on.” He worked my clit with his thumb and index finger, rolling and flicking and pinching until the effort it was taking for me to cling to the cliff’s ledge became unbearable.
I whined, bucking against him as pleasure snapped through me like a live wire.
“That’s it,” he grunted, his own thrusting becoming increasingly wild and erratic. Until he was fucking me straight into the bed, hard and untethered. “Come for me, Alice. Please. I can’t… I’m… fuck.”
It was the vicious grunt, the tensing of his muscles, and the thick, throbbing feel of his release that yanked me over the edge. I buckled with a shattered cry as he rammed into me one final time, his fingers relentless.
White-hot pleasure exploded in my core, its fiery tendrils reaching every nook and cranny in my body. My muscles clenched and quivered and shook until I thought I might black out. Then it was over, and I collapsed, a puddle of useless, satiated goo.
Neither of us said a word.
Neither of us moved to peel ourselves away, pull him out, or fumble with post-sex awkwardness. We simply lay there, in our bliss, until, finally, he collected enough energy to trail kisses over my cheek and jaw, neck and shoulder.
“Fucking hell,” he murmured.
My vocal cords were charred, my heart was overflowing with the gentle purr of something velvety soft and terrifyingly addictive, and my head was stuffed full of sugar-sweet, tingling cotton candy. So the only thing I could do in response was shut my eyes and give a delicate hum of agreement.
Then he kissed me, warm, deceptively adoring for what felt like hours.
The second time he fucked me, it was even more tender and smooth and heart-achingly affectionate than the first. He held my hand. Kissed me softly, deeply, and gazed down at me like he might die if he went too long without drinking me in.
There was no dirty talk. No playing pretend. No playful torturing, or begging, or pleading like I’d planned. There were no walls, nothing to hide behind, and nowhere else to look. Every time I tried, his palm would find my cheek and turn me back to him.
By the third round, reality set in.
But the damage was already done, and we both knew it.