Elena #3
I open his pants and slide my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. He’s thick and hard in my hand, and the feel of him sends another rush of heat between my legs.
Dominic curses, dropping his forehead to mine while I stroke him.
His voice is a rough sound against my skin. “Again.”
I do it more slowly. His eyes close, and watching his control slip makes me tighten my grip.
He catches my hand. “If you keep doing that, this will be over too soon.”
“What do you want?”
“My mouth on you.”
My hand stills on him.
Dominic lifts me and sets me on the edge of the couch. He kneels between my thighs and hooks his fingers into my underwear.
I lift my hips.
He draws the lace down my legs and lets it fall beside my dress. Then he opens my thighs and looks at me with none of his usual distance left.
“You’re beautiful.”
His thumb slides through the wetness between my legs and circles my clit. My hips move toward his hand.
He adjusts the pressure until I grip the cushion beneath me.
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“More.”
He presses one finger inside me. My head drops back as his thumb keeps moving.
Dominic watches every reaction. When I reach for him, he places my hand at the back of his neck.
“What do you want, Elena?”
“Your mouth.”
“Say my name when you ask.”
I go still.
He has no idea what his name has sounded like in my head since I watched that video years ago.
“Dominic, put your mouth on me.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
The first stroke of his tongue makes my thighs tighten around his shoulders. He holds them open and licks me again, slow and firm, while adding a second finger.
The pleasure builds too fast. I twist my fingers into his hair and say his name because he told me to, then again because I can’t hold it back.
Dominic groans against me. His fingers curl, finding the spot that makes my whole body tense.
“Dominic.”
He lifts his head without taking his hand away. “Tell me.”
“Don’t stop.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to come.”
“Say my name.”
“Dominic, make me come.”
His mouth returns to me.
The pleasure breaks with a force that pulls his name from me again. My thighs shake around his shoulders while he keeps his fingers inside me, slowing only when I stop moving against him.
When he rises, I pull him down and kiss him. I taste myself on his tongue and reach between us, pushing his pants and boxer briefs lower until he’s free in my hand again.
Dominic unhooks my bra. His palm closes over my breast while I stroke him, and his thumb moves across my nipple. I open my legs wider around his hips.
He settles between them. The head of his cock brushes my inner thigh.
Compatibility was the last practical wall I had, and now I’ve knocked it down myself. I want him. That’s all that’s left, and I don’t know what to do with how much.
Dominic reaches toward his discarded pants.
“Wait.”
He stops immediately and shifts his weight off me.
“What do you need?”
My pulse is still racing. “I can’t have sex with you tonight.”
“Okay.”
He doesn’t ask me to reconsider or point out how far I let this go. His hand settles at my waist, warm and steady.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize.”
“I brought you here.”
“And you can stop whenever you want.”
The calm answer leaves me staring at the side of his face, searching for something to push back against.
I avoid his eyes. “This was supposed to answer one question.”
“Compatibility.”
“Yes.”
“We answered it.”
I laugh, breathless and embarrassed. “That’s the problem.”
Dominic brushes my hair away from my face. “Tell me.”
“Sex changes this,” I say, the words rushing out. “It wouldn’t just be for the clinic. Not just part of the plan to make a baby.”
“I don’t want you only inside the plan, Elena.”
My hand tightens on his shoulder. I’m naked beneath him, and he says it as calmly as if wanting me outside the plan is simple.
“I need space to think.”
He nods. “Then you have it.”
Dominic helps me sit up. He’s already buttoning his shirt when he hands me my dress. I pull it on and turn, waiting. He closes the zipper, his knuckles brushing my bare skin. The careful, impersonal touch is more unsettling than anything we did on the couch.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I’m overwhelmed. I’m also okay.”
“Do you want water?”
“Yes.”
He follows me into the kitchen, and after pouring two glasses of water, joins me on the couch. We sit with several feet between us this time.
Dominic stays until I finish the water. He doesn’t mention Monday’s clinic appointment or ask whether I’ll invite him upstairs again.
When he stands, I walk him to the door.
He touches my face. “May I kiss you good night?”
I nod.
The kiss is slow and gentle. He ends it before I’m ready.
“You did nothing wrong,” he says, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“Neither did you.”
“I know.”
Dominic opens the door. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
“I know that too.”
He leaves.
I lock the door and return to the living room. His empty water glass sits on the coffee table, a perfect circle of condensation on the wood. The couch cushions are uneven. I can still feel the weight of his hands on me, and the space he left behind feels just as real.