Chapter 25 Sloane #3
I blink slowly at him, desire and need clouding my brain for long seconds until I finally regain control. “Then…I came home.”
He drops my hips, snaking his hands around to my front until one is gripping my thigh and the other is poised to take his tongue’s position.
The skin of his knuckle is warm and rough as it brushes against my clit.
Instinctively, I buck into his touch and silently thank God when he holds his hand steady, allowing me to create the friction I need to feed the pressure building inside of me, instead of pulling away.
“And—” His eyes are black as night. “—you missed me.”
On the last word, he thrusts two fingers into me, pushing deep and curling upward to massage my G-spot.
I gasp loudly; the intrusion forces me to stretch to accommodate the width of his thick fingers, and it hurts just a little, but he doesn’t relent.
I arch up off of the bed as Dom repeats his words, this time phrased as a question.
“I—I already said that.”
“You told me to come home, angel.” His fingers are brutal as they pound into me, every stroke pushing me toward a meltdown of epic proportions. “Home. Like this house and the most precious thing in it belongs to me. Is that the case? Do you belong to me?”
I shake my head. Unable to form a coherent thought, let alone string together a sentence.
Everything about him is devastating me—the gravelly rasp in his voice, the heat of his body bleeding into mine, the perfect way he’s touching me—and I know he’s done this on purpose, waited until the moment when I’m too far gone to think, or lie, to ask the question he wants the answer to most.
Truthfully, I hadn’t thought much about the content of the message, because I was so preoccupied with sending the picture before I chickened out.
The picture was sexy, and so I wanted the message to be sexy and concise.
Leaving no room for confusion or doubt about whether I wanted him here with me tonight.
But why did I choose that particular phrase?
Because this place doesn’t feel like home unless he’s here. Because he’s the only person who’s felt like home since Eric. Because I belong to him in all the ways I never thought I could belong to anyone again.
All good, valid reasons.
All perfect things to say to the man who’s crucifying me with his eyes.
All completely wrong things to say to someone who agreed to a casual relationship with an expiration date you insisted on having.
“It was just a text,” I finally manage to say.
Even in my altered state, I know I haven’t even begun to answer his question, but I can’t say any of the things I’ve just thought out loud.
Hell, it’s scary enough having them swimming around in my lust-addled mind, painting pictures of a future I can’t have with him or anyone else.
“A text written by you, right?”
I’m writhing madly now, my hips churning desperately in search of release even as frustration claws at my chest. “You know that already!”
“So then you shouldn’t have any trouble telling me what it meant.
” Something dangerous shifts behind his eyes.
Fire singes the corners and creeps in further until it turns his devastating midnight gaze to the hardest, blackest form of obsidian.
“Is it possible that I misinterpreted it, angel? Because I cut a very important business meeting short to come take care of you, and doing something like that based on a text only makes sense for a man like me if the woman who sent it knows that she’s mine. ”
Torture. Everything about this moment is torture—from the exquisite pleasure his wicked fingers are stroking into my body to the ruinous emotion playing across his features and laying waste to my soul.
“Dom, please.” Beads of sweat trickle down my spine while the sound of his fingers gliding in and out of me fill the air. “Please.”
“Say it, Sloane.”
He dips his head, dark eyes locking on mine as he sucks my clit into his mouth with ruthless precision.
My thighs clamp down around him. They’re quivering and weak from his ministrations, but I’m desperate to keep him here.
To hold him hostage until I fall over the edge of the cliff he’s dragged me to.
Dom lets me keep him there for a few seconds. Happy to feed into the illusion that I have any power over him just so he can be the one to shatter it with a quick shift of his shoulders and a beatific smile on his stupidly handsome face.
“Say. It.”
“You know that I am…”
“I. Need. To. Hear. It.”
Each word is punctuated by a curl of his fingers and a jolt of pleasure zipping down my spine. I’m ready to fall apart around him. To detonate like the most lethal bomb. To say anything just to plunge into the ocean of sweet relief. And the bastard knows it too.
I shake my head furiously. Trying to resist the urge to obey the command skating across my skin as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
Dom lowers his head back to my body, raining soft kisses down my belly.
And it’s those gentle presses of his lips that break my resolve.
I last all of five seconds before my lips part.
“I’m yours.”
The words slip past my lips so easily I wonder why I even bothered to fight saying them at all, but then I remember being owned and acknowledging that ownership are two very different things.
And of course, there’s the issue of our deadline and the million and one things that will make Dom’s name etched in my heart look insignificant in comparison.
None of it matters right now though. Right now, I can pretend like my world begins and ends with the growl ripping from Dom’s chest, no doubt prompted by my words, and the sensation of his fingers twisting in and out of me at a breakneck pace.
“Oh God. Yes, Dom. Yes!”
My walls clamp down on him. A fresh wave of heat washes over me, and then I’m falling. Finally falling over the edge of the cliff I’ve been dangling from for ages. I arch off of the bed and scream, but the sound is swallowed by Dom’s mouth when he moves up the bed to cover my body with his.
He’s all gentle touches and whispered praise as I come back down to earth, cradled in his arms with the flared tip of his dick nudging against my entrance.