Chapter 15
IZZY
What are you doing?
In the limo, Dom has one arm wrapped around me, holding me firmly in place, as the other squeezes onto my hip. He pulls me roughly against him, making an urgent growling noise as we kiss heatedly. Our tongues find each other like metal to a magnet, the friction unbelievable, my whole body on fire.
You’ve already betrayed him.
That politician cancelled because of me, because of the information I passed to Aaron. Sooner or later, Aaron is going to force me to share more information with him. What am I going to do then? I’ll have no choice but to go along with it… which will make this even more of a betrayal.
But I want to experience more with Dom. Is that selfish? Does that make me a terrible person? I love how obsessed he is with me, how his hand grips my hip like he’s been waiting his entire life for a connection like this.
He lets me go and leans back, chest heaving. “Fuck,” he groans, glancing at the driver’s partition.
“Can he see us?” I ask.
“No, but I won’t be able to carry you up to your apartment if we keep going. I’ll end up…” He looks at me possessively. “Right here.” He smirks, face lighting up. “But I’ve got an idea.”
He shuffles down the seat, turning away from me, and takes out his cell phone.
I swallow as the moment threatens to shatter. “Do you have to take another call?”
This is your chance to end it. You’re missing your chance. End it now!
He types out a text without replying to me. A moment later, my phone lights up.
Dominic: I haven’t forgotten what you said about a texting date.
It’s the only way I can stay civilized. When I touch you, I never want to stop.
I want to slide my hand between your legs right here in the limo.
I know you’re already wet. I can hear it in every whimpering noise you make, in every moan. I know you’re soaked, beautiful.
I squeeze my legs together, looking over at him as he stubbornly stares out of the window. I can hear my breath, high-pitched and urgent. My underwear has never felt so tight, my nub pulsing, my core tingly and wet.
Izzy: I’m drenched.
I decide I won’t care, not tonight. Not about anything else but this undeniable connection between us. This nuclear fission.
Izzy: Sex normally makes me so nervous. Maybe that’s why I hardly ever date. I’ve never thought of myself as a sexual person, really, but with you, it’s so different. When you look at me, I feel like a supermodel.
Dominic: You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I turn to find him looking out the window with a subtle smirk on his face.
Dominic: The light in your heart, your passion, your beauty…
and yeah, Songbird, that fucking body of yours too.
Your cleavage has been driving me crazy all night.
All I’ve wanted is to tear that dress off and reveal those big, juicy tits.
Suck your nipples until you’re almost creaming from that alone, without me even needing to finger-fuck that hot, wet pussy of yours.
I grind my legs together, struggling not to whimper. It’s like I’m a violin and his texts are the bow.
“Dom,” I whisper.
“We’re almost there,” he groans, his voice tight.
“Look.”
This might be the only chance we get to be together. After this—he’ll hate you… No, no. Not that, not now. Just this moment. Just us.
He turns slowly, his eyes snapping wide when he sees me sliding my hand between my legs. He’s got his fists clenched on his thighs, staring in awe. I push the hem of my dress aside, stunned by my confidence, and begin rubbing the outside of my tights and underwear. I let out a moan.
He turns away, practically vibrating, then grabs his phone again.
Dominic: Keep rubbing that slit. But don’t you dare come in this limo. You’re going to bring yourself to the very edge, THEN FUCKING WAIT THERE. If you understand, moan twice.
I let out two moans in quick succession. He nods, staring out the window, trembling like a volcano about to blow. For the rest of the trip, I do what he demands, gently brushing my fingertips against my clit through my clothes.
When the limo finally stops, Dom throws the door open and then reaches down for me. I squeal in delight when he hauls me from the car and lifts me into his arms as though I weigh nothing.
“I thought you were kidding about carrying me,” I breathe.
“Listen to you,” he groans. “On the fucking edge already. I bet you’d cream, soak your underwear, if I started rubbing you right now on the street.”
I wrap my arms tightly around him as he carries me to the apartment door. I root around in my bag for my key, lean down while still in his arms—he kneels slightly to help—and unlock the door. He carries me up the stairs to my apartment.
Once we’re inside and alone, he walks quickly to the bedroom.
He puts me down, then looks around for a moment, a small smile on his face, somehow puncturing the wild lust. His gaze lingers on a picture on the wall. It’s me at thirteen, on a stage with a violin in my hand.
“Hey,” I murmur, raising my eyebrow in challenge. “Have you forgotten about me?”
You’re trouble, Songbird. That’s what he said, and when he looks at me, it’s like I know that’s what he’s thinking now. But only because he thinks I’m fun and turned-on and carefree, and sure, I qualify for the first two. But carefree? Me?
He climbs slowly onto the bed, guiding his lips to mine.
I’ve never felt kisses like these. It’s like each one is a key opening the door to a rushing wave of pleasure.
I wrap my legs around him, rocking my body up and down.
With each grind of our heat against each other, it becomes easier to forget about everything else.
He leans back slightly, letting him slide his hand between our bodies. He grips my thigh like he owns me. And here, now, he does. I want him to. He pushes up my leg, opens my legs, and drives the heel of his palm against my sensitive nub.
I’m still buzzing from the limo, my own feather-light touches triggering the lust and making me hot and ready. He brings his mouth to my ear, his husky whisper sending hot shivers down my neck and over my shoulders.
“If I feel your naked pussy,” he growls, “there’s no going back. You need to be sure this is the song you want to sing.”
I clutch his firm shoulders, my nails biting into warm skin. One day, I might regret not taking him up on his offer. Maybe everything would’ve been simpler if I hadn’t fallen so hard into this feeling.
“I want it,” I whisper. “I want you, sir.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
He slips his hand under my tights and into my underwear. His hand smooths across my pubic bone and finds my core. When he finds how wet I am, he groans and glides his palm from my entrance to my clit, then flattens his hand so that he can touch every part of me.
I pant as my hips take over, chasing the heat in his hand. I pump my hips up and down.
You’re trouble—
And love how wild it makes him. My confidence, my desire, fuels his lust. I can hear it in his moans.
Songbird—
His breaths, the way he rubs me faster, harder, insistent on dragging out every morsel of pleasure from me. Soon, my breath catches as the orgasm rises up inside of me. He pulls his hand away, standing.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
He smirks, tearing off his suit jacket. “Doing what you should be doing. Getting naked.”
“Is that an order, sir?” I ask.
His hand pauses on his button, then he suddenly wrenches at his shirt. Buttons pop and go flying. He tosses the fabric aside, revealing his sculpted torso, broad chest, and the hard ridges of his abs.
“You’re damn right it’s an order,” he growls.
I sit up so that I can pull my dress over my head.
Then I wriggle out of my tights. By the time I’m unclasping my bra, Dom is already naked.
His manhood is huge, a big dollop of precome glistening at the tip.
He’s rock hard, head almost pointing directly up.
Veins press against his shaft, evidence of how badly he wants, needs me.
When my breasts spill free, he dives on me, burying his face in my cleavage, kissing, biting softly. He finds one nipple and sucks it hard, while gently twisting the other between his forefinger and thumb.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he groans. “Fuck, the way you moan… you’ve been on the edge since the limo, haven’t you?” When I don’t reply for a beat, he bites my nipple harder. “Haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I admit, whimpering.
“Then you’d better come for me.”
He kisses down my body. I lie on my back as he reaches my underwear. He pulls them off roughly, then presses onto my legs, on either side of my sex. I sit up on my elbows so I can see the lust on his face. He’s staring at me in awe, in hunger like I’ve never seen before.
“What a perfect pussy,” he groans.
I laugh, rolling my eyes.
“What’s so funny?” he demands.
“A perfect pussy. What does that even mean?”
He pushes his thumbs against my clit, rubbing from side to side. “It means your tunnel is winking at me, pink and fucking drenched. Your folds are thick, juicy, and ready. It means this pussy belongs to you, Songbird, and that alone is enough to make it perfect.”
He presses his face against my sex and flicks his tongue over my clit. At the same time, he slips two fingers inside of me and finds a tempo that drives me wild. The best part is how he snarls as he licks me, like he’s getting as much pleasure from this as I am.
All the pent-up pressure gathers into a ball and then erupts.
The orgasm tears through me, owning me, dominating me, making it impossible to think of anything else.