Page 34 of Filthy Dirty Dom

Alex's heart clenched. There was a deep sadness in her voice, a resignation that mirrored his own turmoil. He looked at her, his gaze heavy with unspoken apologies, even as she played with the hem of her dress. Suddenly, she looked embarrassed. "Was my bodyguard with us tonight?"

"No, it was just me tonight.”

Likely remembering Elvis, she opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “Elvis is not coming back. But I have no doubt with more experience, he’ll get another chance at being a bodyguard.”

She sighed and nodded. Then said, “In the future…the bodyguards…”

"They're professionals. Discrete. They won't say anything to anyone about what you do, even me. Not unless there's a safety issue involved."

Relief washed over her face at the reminder and assurance.

"Leslie, I'd like you to let me vet anyone you're seriously interested in exploring with first.” He held her gaze, the intensity of his feelings bubbling up inside him.

For a moment, Leslie was silent, but then she nodded. “Okay.”

Relief swept through him. “Okay.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, so many emotions swirling inside him. This woman, with her unwavering courage and her boundless curiosity, had blown his mind tonight and he found himself not wanting to leave her side, but knowing he had to.

With a final squeeze of her hand, he turned to walk away.

"It doesn't have to end here," Leslie called after him, stopping him in his tracks.

Alex turned back, his heart lurched. She stood there, framed in the doorway of her brownstone, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the hallway light.

"There can be more. I want more, Alex," she said, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. "I want to explore the lifestyle more. With you. So, I'll throw it out there again. Be my friend, but be my friend with benefits. Give me you, not permanently but for a little while. A month. Give me a month, and we'll walk away friends."

A month. The word rang in his ears, a tantalizing offer, a dangerous temptation. God, he wanted to. He wanted her—all of her—for a month. The idea of having full access to her body, of exploring her deepest desires, was almost too much to bear. But the very thought of walking away from her was agonizing. How could he walk away after a whole month with her, when he was already struggling to put one foot in front of the other?

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she raised her hand, stopping him. "Don't answer," she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Think about it, Alex. And I'll do the same. Goodnight."

With that, she closed the door, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, alone with his thoughts and the quiet hum of the New York City night. The temptation, the decision, hung in the air.

A month.

He looked at the closed door, his heart racing, and knew, in that moment, that nothing would ever be the same again.

Arriving at his loft, Alex still pondered Leslie's proposal. It was a compelling offer, one that sent his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of temptation. The enormous space of his loft, with its high ceilings and industrial style fixtures, felt too small for the enormity of what he was considering.

Her words echoed in his mind, ricocheting off the bare brick walls and bouncing around the expansive, lofted space. He imagined her soft hands on his body, her mouth on his skin, her words whispered in his ear. God, he wanted that. He wanted her.

Unnerved by the pulsing heat coursing through his body, Alex began pacing, his boots clicking against the polished concrete floor. His slacks felt tight, uncomfortably so, the hard line of his arousal pressing against the denim.

No matter how he tried to distract himself, his mind kept wandering back to Leslie. Her eyes, sparkling with excitement and curiosity. Her voice, soft yet firm, as she told him what she wanted. The ways she’d looked, touching her bare pussy in the sex club, and the way she’d looked kneeling in front of him with her cum covering her breasts.

Finally, the pressure became too much. Alex moved to the full-length mirror propped against one of the loft’s bare brick walls. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding them down his legs and stepping out of them. His reflection stared back at him, his hard length straining against the confines of his boxer briefs.

He swallowed, running a hand through his tousled hair. Seeing his own arousal mirrored back at him, Alex couldn't help but groan. The image of Leslie, head thrown back in pleasure, the trust in her eyes when she’d offered herself to him—it all danced on the edges of his imagination.

He reached inside his boxer briefs and gripped his throbbing cock, feeling a jolt of pleasure run through his body at the contact. His thoughts centered around Leslie, how her skin would feel beneath his touch. He imagined her soft cries, her cunt clenching around his fingers as he stroked her to the edge.

"Fuck," he breathed out, his grip on his hard length tightening.

He imagined the warmth of Leslie’s pussy enveloping him, the sweet, slick taste of her.

But most of all, he imagined what she’d offered. He imagined saying yes.

He imagined the promise of the month that could be theirs.