Chapter 13 Annetta
ANNETTA
I would have thought it was a dream, except that I only have nightmares these days, and I woke up in the wrong room.
I reach in the darkness for Dom’s cold pillow and drag it to me to inhale his rich, masculine scent like it’s a bump of coke to start off my day.
It sweeps through my bloodstream how I imagine a drug would—pricking my nipples into attention, flooding my clit with an achy pressure that doesn’t go away even when I grind against my palm.
My hips jerk forward of their own accord when I remember his lips against mine.
The rest of the night catches up to me, and I still, the lust bleeding away.
Last night was messed up. Seeing Dad there in his undershirt while he held another man’s face still for a set of pliers has my stomach twisting in knots.
I’ve always known what Dad did or, at least, suspected it, but it was another thing entirely to witness his cold obedience to his don.
I hug the pillow to me and stare up at the ceiling.
Dom protected me last night, even though I’d been lying to him about who I was and what I’d done.
Maybe obligation forced him to save me from Mikey, but what other explanation could there be to shield me from the vision of Don Salvatore and his pliers?
He stood in front of me the entire time, between me and his don.
All of that pales in comparison to the fact that he wrapped his arms around me last night after I crawled into his bed. After everything that happened, he offered me simple comfort, without any strings attached. Affection swells in my chest.
I want him so badly it hurts.
And after that kiss last night, I think he might want me too.
I roll onto my belly to rub my face into his pillow and blame the sharp aphrodisiac of his scent when I thrust my pillow between my thighs.
My libido feels like it’s waking from an ancient slumber as I settle into my favorite position.
I could use a release right now, but more than anything, I want to be close to Dom, even if I have to imagine it.
I sandwich my hand between myself and the pillow and rub against my palm, imagining it’s Dom’s hand. A moan bursts out of my mouth.
I’ve never made any sort of noise while I masturbated. I’ve always had to do it stealthily, biting down on a pillow and straining my ears for someone else in the house.
Why can’t I be loud this one time? I bet Dom is loud. I bet he roars as he comes. I bet he makes a huge mess, coating his entire hand with his salty cum.
“Dom,” I moan. The pressure builds inside me, and I get even more excited. “Dom!”
The door slams open.
I scream, jerking Dom’s T-shirt over my lower half and flipping onto my back.
Dom storms in, looking like he tumbled out of my fantasies in his boots and thick coat, with his hair pulled back from his face. He looks furious.
He slams the door shut—and locks it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks in a low, demanding voice.
I could not have been caught more red-handed than if I’d had a sign that said “DIRTY PERVERT” in neon letters over my head.
His gaze touches my face, skates down to my hard nipples, and lingers for a half beat longer at the pillow between my legs, before he grits his teeth and focuses on my face.
“Dom…”
“Why the fuck were you calling for me?”
“Because—you know why.” I sound like a huge idiot right now, but I was masturbating in the privacy of my own home, and he can’t burst in here to yell at me about it.
He takes two long steps closer, and the room constricts around him.
I inhale sharply. He’s not coming to help, is he? I sit up, pushing my hips against the pillow a little further.
Dom notices the movement and stops.
“Eduardo’s here,” he grits out.
“Okay, so?” I have no idea which Eduardo he’s talking about—we have at least three in the family.
Dom takes one more step until he’s at the edge of the mattress. “So, he could hear you.”
Oh.
My cheeks burn.
“I didn’t know that,” I say in a weak voice.
He exhales, glancing over me again. “I have to go meet with your dad and a few other people today. I just wanted to stay long enough to introduce you to Eduardo. He’s going to stay in the penthouse as your bodyguard.” He pauses. “You gonna be able to control yourself?”
For a moment, I can’t meet Dom’s eye as my face burns with embarrassment. Of course, I don’t want Eduardo to hear me.
But this is my house too. And I’m sick of being stuck again around a bunch of men and a husband who won’t satisfy me. My core aches with the discomfort of my ruined orgasm.
“What if I can’t?” I whisper. I look directly into Dom’s eye, and when the corners of his mouth twitch, certainty spreads through my chest. “Make him wait outside until I’m done.”
Dom takes a step forward and hooks one boot on the edge of the bed frame, amusement spreading across his face. “That’s a security risk. He can’t wait outside if he’s supposed to be protecting you.”
“A security risk?” I burst into laughter, despite the flush of heat at his proximity. “If it’s such a security risk, then you should be taking care of me, shouldn’t you?”
“What do you need then?” he asks so suddenly that it takes me a moment to process what he said. He nods toward my hips. “To come. What do you need?”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
I don’t waste a second.
“Finger me.” I scramble to kick the pillow out from underneath me with all the grace of a newborn deer. “I need you to finger me.”
I spread my legs, exposing myself to him, trying my hardest to look sexy and unaffected and not awkward and thrilled.
Please. Please, please, pleeease.
He stares down between my legs, his body shifting forward, like he’s being drawn in. The tendons in his forearms stand out deliciously as his hands clench into tight fists. I watch, fascinated, as his cock grows heavy in his jeans.
“And your”—he swallows—“your panties?”
Rip them off with your teeth and incinerate them in a campfire.
“Take them off,” I whisper. I clench the bedspread into tight fists to keep from trembling like an overeager chihuahua.
I think he might back out at the last moment, but he shifts forward, and like a dance, I shift back. My elbows press into the mattress as he creeps his hands up my thighs.
I always imagined he’d be hard and rough in bed, like he is with everything else, but he moves against my skin like I’m made of spun glass.
Every brush of his fingertips against my thighs sends sparks up my body and coats me in goose bumps while my pussy throbs so angrily, I think I might combust from lust.
His gaze is fixed firmly between my thighs until his fingers gently hook on the waistband of my underwear, and I gasp. He freezes, glancing at me with wide eyes like he’s done something wrong.
“Please,” I say. “Please, keep going.”
He inhales sharply, and this time, as he pulls my panties down my legs, he watches my face carefully. When he finally glances down, he rumbles a low, strained laugh like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His hands rise to my mid-thigh and squeeze me lightly. “What do you need from me?”
A giddy excitement swells inside me. “Shove your finger in me and rub my clit with your thumb.”
He glances at me like he wants to make sure he heard me right, and then back down at my spread legs. “Eager, huh?”
“A little.”
His hand slides forward, and he skims two knuckles against my wet slit. I hold my breath as he pushes his thumb between my lips until it grazes against my clit.
“That’s good,” he says.
The anticipation, the build-up, his soft praise—I nearly come.
“Just your fingers inside me for now,” I blurt out. I mentally list all the purse brands I can think of and the ingredients for dinner tonight. I don’t know when he’ll give me this again. I don’t want it to end too soon.
Dom’s free hand trails down to adjust himself, drawing attention to the long, hard outline in his jeans. I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks in a low rumble.
I’m not looking to see if he’s teasing me or earnest, but it spikes a messy panic in me.
I almost cry. “Please don’t stop. Two fingers, please.”
He presses a single finger against the wet mess I’m making. And then he slips it inside.
I groan with unabashed relief and slump down onto my back. Oh, thank God. The pressure against my inner walls feels amazing, better than I could’ve hoped, and he was right just to start with one. I would’ve come straight away if he’d given me more.
The slow rhythm he’s set is perfect, stoking the fires enough that I can enjoy what he’s doing, but not finish immediately.
I rock my hips along with the motion of his hand.
That feeling again, of affection—though I’d give it a different name if I were brave enough—swells inside me.
He’s doing this for me. He’s taking care of me.
He sinks his second finger inside me and curls both, and in a few strokes, it builds up enough pressure that I can’t fight it anymore. I clench down as hard as I can against the impending orgasm, but it only brings the rush on stronger, and then Dom rubs against a spot inside me.
If I’m gonna come, it’ll be with my eyes open.
A beautiful flush covers his face, and when we lock eyes, I gasp out his name as waves of starburst pleasure rock through me.
He slows his pace until, gradually, he pulls his fingers out of me. Once we’re separated, he stands fully, and we stare at each other for several seconds. I’ve never seen the expression on his face before—like he wants to whisper a secret he’s never told anyone before.
I glance down at his hard cock. “Can I help you with that?”
He palms himself, grinning, before dropping his boot back down from the bed to the floor with a thud. “You just helped me plenty.”
I lie there, bewildered as he throws me a wink and leaves, shutting the door behind him.