Chapter 9
DOMINIC
Once the pizza rolls are done and the cupcakes are topped with Lindsay’s homemade frosting, we work together to cut up the fruit and arrange it on silicone straws. There are grapes, strawberries, pineapples, watermelon, and cantaloupe. It’s quite the bright, cheerful-looking snack.
My gaze drifts to Lindsay’s profile between each assembled skewer, studying the slope of her nose and the shapes I can make out among the freckles on her cheeks.
She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. It’s not just her body either––though that alone could inspire countless poems––it’s the way her mind works.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I could listen to her talk about food for the rest of time.
Though, the more accurate statement would be that I could listen to her talk about anything for the rest of time.
Anything that she cared about. The way her passion and knowledge about a certain subject transforms her features is captivating.
Her body language is usually guarded and skeptical, with her eyes expressionless and her brows almost always pinched together, as if waiting for inevitable disappointment.
But that melts away the moment she starts chattering like a hummingbird on speed.
Her hands are open and constantly moving to express her opinions.
Her eyes are bright. She doesn’t stand still like a statue.
Depending on the words coming out of her mouth, she might be shuffling her feet, tapping excitedly, or doing a little dance in place.
This is what was missing when I first saw her on Halloween night.
She seemed bone-tired, but that’s not the girl I kissed those many years ago.
She was in there somewhere, though. I knew it.
My lioness is fierce, always ready to extend her claws and go to war with the world to protect her people.
I want to be the place where she can take a deep breath and unclench her fists.
Maybe there’s no one else who can help her find that place. Maybe I was put back into her life for a reason. No, I’m certain I was.
I reckon I was brought back from the dead to show her the absurd beauty of being alive.
We cover the food in layers of plastic wrap and aluminum foil, and carefully stack the trays between our bodies in the truck.
Camilla is thrilled to see us, especially after the snowstorm.
The roads were clear on our way over, thankfully, but if the snow had continued into the morning, that likely wouldn’t have been the case.
We stay to help her set up the food along a foldable table in the living room, where the party is taking place.
There are balloons and streamers along the walls and covering the ceiling.
Morty, Camilla’s husband and the town’s only jaguar shifter, is hard at work filling more balloons with helium at the kitchen counter. He gives me a friendly wave when I pass by. Rocío and Hugo are nowhere to be found.
Camilla is showering Lindsay with compliments about the presentation and how she plans to sneak a cupcake before people start arriving, and I watch proudly from the sidelines, following Lindsay’s instructions on where to put things.
She doesn’t seem to enjoy the job she has, and she’s already so good at this. It’s not my place to tell her to quit her shitty job and be a caterer instead, but I want to. Especially if it meant she’d be here full-time doing something she likes to do.
While the two women continue chatting about witchcraft and some coven news, I head over to Morty and start tying ribbons on the ends of balloons that he’s just closed and knotted.
He’s a man of few words, which I don’t mind.
This is a mindless task that allows me to observe Lindsay from a distance, and fuck me, one blowjob and I’m obsessed with this woman.
If I don’t rein it in, I’m going to fuck this whole thing up before it even gets going. We haven’t even had sex yet, and I’m picturing his and hers monogrammed hand towels in our bathroom. I shake my head, trying to knock the mushy shit loose, and Morty gives me a look like, You good?
I laugh, easing the tension from my stance and trying to be all nonchalant.
Then, “Nope,” falls out of my mouth, and I have no clue what to do next.
There’s really nowhere to go from here, so I hand him a stray ribbon and march away.
“Linds, you ready to go?” Get me out of here before I ask Hugo to be our ring bearer.
More than one car is parking on the street in front of the house, and with guests arriving, my eager exit doesn’t seem so strange.
Lindsay says goodbye to Camilla and promises to text her after she does her witch homework.
I drive her back to Pebblebrook so she can take a “reset shower,” whatever that is, and change clothes, and we agree to meet at the bar in a few hours.
I wasn’t planning on working today, but since I know she’s coming in, I drive straight back to the bar and tackle the stack of bills in my office.
The silky caress of her voice meets my ears around three in the afternoon as she greets Vyla and Natalie. My body urges me to shoot to my feet and run toward her.
Close the distance. Do it. Do it.
But I remain in my seat. I just saw her a few hours ago. There’s no reason to behave like it’s been months.
I’m going to keep doing my job. I won’t go out there until these bills are paid.
My knee bounces as I focus on clicking the “Submit Payment” button on my screen. It takes me much longer than it should to clear the stack. You’d think this was my first day ever using a computer with the way I slam one key at a time, but I’m relieved when the task is finally off my plate.
I’m leaning back in my chair, chomping on some breath mints and scanning the transactions tab of my QuickBooks account when Lindsay strolls in.
“Hi. You wanted to go over those menu additions I mentioned?” She’s practically shouting each word.
“Uh, sure,” I reply. Didn’t we already do that?
She leans back against the door after closing it and locking the handle, and a mischievous grin appears. I don’t understand what’s happening until she’s in my lap, and her lips are pressed against mine.
“Ah,” I finally say with a laugh. It was a ruse to ravage me.
Her nose scrunches at first, and she tilts her head, like, Really, dude? But it’s quickly replaced with warmth and amusement and a boop of my nose.
I wrap my arms around her and press her against my body, the softness of her stomach melting into the hardness of mine. “I missed you,” I whisper against her lips.
She whimpers in response, our tongues gliding against each other in an erotic dance.
Her small hands travel from my hair to my neck, and soon she’s lifting the hem of my t-shirt.
As hot as it would be to watch her ride my dick in my office while my entire staff is busy working on the other side of the door, this chair barely fits my frame.
If we take this further, I’m afraid it’ll collapse beneath us in a sound so loud that everyone will run in with concern and catch us in the act.
I can’t have that. I’m not even sure how comfortable I am doing anything sexual in here during business hours.
“Are you sure you locked the door?” I ask.
“Uh huh.” Her tongue flicks my earlobe, and a jolt of electricity shoots straight to the head of my cock.
If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right. “You want this? Here?”
“Mm,” she moans.
I push the chair back as I grip her thighs and lift her into my arms. This seems to excite her.
She starts grinding against me as soon as I straighten to my full height.
Our bodies aren’t even lined up properly like this, but fuck, I can feel the heat of her pussy through multiple layers, and I’m desperate to be inside her.
Once I decide how I want this to go, I lower her into the chair and get down on my knees.
I yank the rolling chair closer, and she lets out an exhilarated squeak.
Her pupils are fully dilated, and her lips are parted in a way that makes me think of how beautiful they looked wrapped around my dick, sucking me dry.
She’s wearing a sleeveless sweater and tailored pants ensemble in a dark mauve color that brings out the pink in her cheeks.
My fancy girl. I’m hesitant to remove her pretty clothes and toss them on the floor, but needs must. I unbuckle her belt, keeping my gaze locked on hers.
She lifts her ass when I tug her pants down, carefully pulling her feet out and removing her socks before placing all of it behind me.
Her lacy black underwear is still on, but that doesn’t stop me from shoving my face against the scratchy fabric and filling my lungs with her scent. “Fuck, Lindsay.”
How do I bottle this? How do I keep it on my sheets and clinging to my clothes like smoke after she goes back to Boston?
Those are thoughts for another day. Right now, I have a feast in front of me, and I’m not about to waste it.
Sliding her underwear down her thighs, I drop them in the growing pile and rest her calves on my shoulders.
“Oh shit,” she keens as I spread the glistening brown lips of her pussy and lap at her center.
“Shh,” I scold, looking up at her. “You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”
She sucks in a breath that reminds me she enjoys being ordered around.
Not in her daily life, but during sex. And the way she pinches her nipples while glancing back toward the office door tells me another interesting thing about her.
“You like this, don’t you? The risk of getting caught. Of being seen.”
“Uh huh,” she replies, sinking her teeth into her plush bottom lip. “I’ll be quiet. Promise.”
I groan at her solemn vow. “Yes, baby. I know you can.”