Page 112 of PS: I Hate You
When Dom steps into my home, I brace for him to start kissing me again. Immediately. I mean, that elevator ride left so much heat lingering between us I half expect my smoke detectors to start wailing.
But Dom sets his bag inside the door, steps past me, and wanders around my home. His sharp eyes flick around the space, and I can imagine what he sees. My half-finished puzzle and knickknacks and throw pillows are all useless clutter. No clear organization to the bookshelves. His books were arranged alphabetically by the author’s last name, which theoretically is good practice for finding things, but in practice seems like too much work when I could spend the time reading. Everything here is too soft, like my underbelly that he’s about to gut if he insults my randomly cultivated home.
“This feels like you,” he says.
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Feels like me?” I repeat, not sure how to take his comment.
Dom finishes circling the main living area that butts up with an open–floor plan kitchen.
“Cozy. Warm. Comforting.”
“You think I’m those things?”
Dom rests his hands on my hips. “You are to me.” He leans in to press a line of kisses down my neck. “I’m hungry.”
Knowing Dom was coming, I prepared for this. “I have lots of snacks. Most of them involve cheese. Not a granola bar in sight. You can have whatever you want.”
His lips smile against my skin and shivers roll through my body. “Not for food. I want you. Want to taste you again. I’m starving, Maddie.”
As he speaks, Dom’s hand flattens on my lower belly, then slips down until he’s cupping my core with only my shorts between his flesh and mine.
“Oh,” I half gasp, half groan. “Well, I told you to eat whatever you want. If that happens to be me, it’s my own fault for encouraging you.”
Dom’s laugh is a deep rumble in his throat, the sound so deliciously distracting I don’t realize his intention until my shoulder blades meet the wall and Dom’s knees hit the floor. I have to tangle my fingers in his silky hair to keep my balance as he drags the cotton shorts down my legs along with a set of cute lacy underwear that I wore in hopes he’d want to see. But Dom is more focused on what lies beneath, setting his thumbs at either side of my entrance and pulling apart my folds until I’m fully exposed.
“Oh god,” I groan, not sure if I’m more embarrassed or turned on.
“Don’t bother praying,” he mutters. “Just say my name.”
Then he swipes a long, slow lick over my sensitive center, and I spend the next however many minutes trying to breathe and keep my knees locked as Dom eases his appetite.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
I thought when Dom arrived in Seattle he’d want to go out. Want to see the city. Be eager to explore.
But the man is more interested in visiting every possible destination on my body.
He got here an hour and three orgasms ago. But who’s counting? His enthusiastic approach eases any past insecurity until I don’t feel the need to check in that he’s enjoying himself.
Dom makes that clear every moment his body touches mine.
Like right now, with me bracing my hands on the cushy back of my couch as I stand with legs splayed wide, Dom slowly sinking into my soaking, tender pussy. His muscular thighs press against the back of mine with every thrust and his fingers dig into my hips, keeping me in place for his leisurely strokes.
“So good,” he grunts low, as if talking to himself. “Can’t get enough.”
Luckily, I’ve been training for endurance exercise, though I’d had mountains in mind, not sex marathons. Truly a lack of creative thinking on my part.
I’d probably grin if my face hadn’t melted with pleasure. My whole body is overly hot like I have a fever. Tender to the touch.Which is Dom’s fault because he insisted on taking his time. On exploring all the positions that feel divine and don’t compress my lungs. And he insisted on earning one of my orgasms in each one.
As if this is a training session for my pleasure. And damn it if his organized approach doesn’t make me even hotter.
But now I want him to lose control.
Reaching down, I find his wrists and grab hold, then drag his rough palms up to cup my boobs. Then I use his fingers to massage and pinch my nipples. When his pace falters, then speeds up, triumph has my body clenching down on him.