7
“DO IT HERE,” SHE DEMANDED.
The aliveness of her emotions swamped him,
reflected off the mirrored bathroom walls. She was everywhere, all
around him, back, front, side, black velvet dress, stockings, high
heels, red hair, scarlet cheeks and lips. He hauled her up on the
pale blue marbled countertop between the twin sinks with gold taps.
Amid fancy hand towels and baskets of soaps in the shape of
dolphins, he shoved her skirt up her thighs, thrusting his hand
between her legs.
Question answered: thigh highs and thong
panties. He pulled aside the crotch. “Christ, you’re wet.”
She gripped his forearm with one hand and
cradled the bulge of his cock. “And you’re hard.”
He circled her clit, watched her lids drop. “You
wanted to spread your legs for him.”
“I wouldn’t have done it even if you’d begged
me,” she challenged, the belligerence in her tone part of the game,
an element of the seduction.
He fit two fingers in her channel, found her
G-spot, reveled in the gasp that fell from her lips. “You drooled
looking at his cock. You wanted it.”
She yanked his belt, unzipped his pants, and
freed his cock. “You were afraid I’d say yes, then you wouldn’t
have known what the hell to do.”
He loved the fight in her and didn’t care why it
enflamed him. “What if I’d told him to pay me to have a go at
you?”
She flooded his hand with moisture, her breath
puffing. “He wouldn’t have enough money for what I’m worth.” She
squeezed his cock, spread her legs wider, wrapped her calves around
his ass to draw him in.
“You would have done it for free, that’s how hot
you were for him.”
Fire blazed in her eyes, rushed across her skin.
“You have no idea how hot I am.” She tugged his hand from her pussy
and snugged his hips close, the tip of his cock grazing her clit.
“Be a man,” she ordered. “Take care of my needs.” She narrowed her
eyes. “Or I’ll go downstairs and find the man who can.”
“He’s already found someone to replace you.”
There would be no one ever to replace her.
Hands on her butt, he impaled her. She gasped,
and her head fell back, hair caressing his knuckles, eyes closed.
The warmth of her enclosed him, filled him, renewed him.
Bracing her hands on the counter behind her, she
met his thrusts, forcing him deeper. “You can do better than
that.”
Part of him wanted to laugh. He’d needed her to
talk to him, say something, anything, and, holy hell, she was,
insulting him every which way. It was fucking hot for no apparent
reason.
“You can’t take it harder,” he growled.
She wrapped one arm around him, pulled him
close, and bit his shoulder through his shirt. “Excuses,
excuses.”
The mirror steamed with the close heat of their
bodies. Someone knocked on the locked door. Her skin smelled like
sweet champagne as if it oozed from her pores, and he felt his
orgasm build in his balls.
“You can’t do it,” she whispered as if it were a
sweet nothing. “You can’t take me. You can’t make me come.” Yet she
moaned, breathing harsh, eyes closed, and her fingers fisted in his
hair so tightly his scalp ached. In that moment, her body squeezing
his cock, his orgasm damn near shot out of control as the tremors
of her climax threatened to drag him with her.
But there was one last thing he had to have.
Hand in her hair, pulling her head back, he took her mouth, forced
his tongue past her lips, steeped himself in her taste, kissing
her, devouring her.
For the first time in over a year, she melded
her mouth to his and kissed him back, deep, hard, breath-stealing,
heart-pumping. And when he filled her, it was beyond giving her his
essence, it was his heart and soul.
THE NIGHT WAS SURREAL. DOMINIC HAD TOSSED THE
KEYS TO THE valet, and when the car arrived, he’d bundled her
inside as if she were a porcelain doll.
Some other woman had hurled those insults at her
husband. Some other person had sat speechless while Dominic told a
stranger that she loved to masturbate for him. Someone else had let
those words turn her inside out with heat and desire, had let
Dominic take her on the cold tile countertop, fucked him, kissed
him, climaxed, and begged for more. Some other woman had loved
every moment.
She wanted to say it was the champagne. She
turned her head on the seat to tell him she was sleepy and drunk
and she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d done tonight, but his
profile was crystal clear.
She reached for Dominic, laying cold fingers on
his warm arm. He covered her hand with his palm. “That was hot,
baby.”
She absolutely could not deny it. Or that she
needed more of it, the mindless sex that kept the rest of her life
at bay.
WEARING ONLY BRA AND A THONG PANTY THAT OUTLINED
HER firm, heart-shaped ass, Erin leaned over the bathroom counter
applying her makeup. Already showered and dressed—they’d agreed
he’d leave for the exhibition hall early, and she would meet him
later—Dominic leaned against the doorjamb watching. After that hot
episode in Miterberg’s rented mansion, he’d had the nerve to reach
for her in the night. She hadn’t turned him away. She’d let him
kiss her again. It wasn’t the sweet melding of lips in the early
dawn of attraction and desire, but nor was it the perfunctory swap
of tongues in a relationship’s fading twilight. He couldn’t assign
a name to it, only acknowledge that she allowed it, just as she had
last night in the opulent mansion bathroom. That had to mean
something, a step forward.
She moved from her brows to her lashes, whisking
them with a mascara wand. She always worked from the top down,
brows, eyes, cheeks, then lips. Why not up, lips first? He’d been
present for the process countless times, but he’d never stopped
long enough to take it all in. Until Jay morphed from baby to
toddler, she’d done her makeup in her panties, like now. When he
started running around and hadn’t learned to knock, she’d taken to
wearing a robe. At home, she still used the robe, yet here, despite
the hotel garment hanging on the door, she wore only her
underthings. For the life of him, Dominic couldn’t remember what
she’d worn yesterday morning as they were getting ready, or if the
change in her had come about during the night.
“Why are you watching me?” she asked without
smudging the stroke of her eyeliner.
Because last night was kinky and hot, and her
reaction to that scene with Winter made him hope they’d passed a
threshold. What threshold would they cross if he pushed her into
action rather than fantasy and talk? Because really, that’s all
last night had been. Fantasy. She’d fucked him, yet that was still
part of the fantasy. No one had seen a thing.
“Would you have done it if I’d asked you
to?”
Her hand jerked, leaving a tiny smear on her
eyelid. She hissed and grabbed a cotton swab to wipe it away. “Done
what?”
A rumble of tension snaked through his abdomen
as he recognized the signs of shutdown. When you don’t want to
answer, pretend you don’t understand the question.
If he didn’t force the issue here, he’d never
get the chance at home. “If I’d told you to masturbate for him,
would you have done it?”
She screwed the brush back into the tube of
liner, then smoothed a finger over the eye shadow on her lids. She
had her routine, always did it that way. Yet he detected the pulse
at her throat, its beat faster than it should have been as she
weighed the consequences of a lie. Or the truth.
Finally, she pulled out her blusher compact and
swept the brush over her skin, adding color to her cheeks.
“Yes.”
A rush of adrenaline hit his bloodstream. In one
moment, he was hard, cock aching with need. Yet his skin felt
clammy as if he’d stepped off the curb before looking only to
suddenly see the bus bearing down on him—too late.
She turned, leaning back against the counter,
totally unselfconscious in her near nakedness. “Did you really want
me to do it? Or would you have punished me for it later?”
The hotel bathroom seemed suddenly smaller. He’d
needed her answer, craved it. Now it hovered on the precipice of
being a huge mistake. She’d asked him last night if he was jealous
that Winter was checking her out. He’d gotten away with a
fencesitting answer.
What the fuck was the truth anyway? He thought
he wanted it, believed he could handle it. In his fantasies, it
made him hot as hell. He pulled away from the door, bracketed her
with his body, arms on either side of her, leaning close,
nose-to-nose. The scent of her shower made him dizzy. The proximity
of her lips twisted his insides.
“I would be mindless. Then I’d have to have you
while he watched. Yes, I fucking wanted it. More than you can
know.”
Her breasts touched his chest as she breathed.
His shape filled her pupils.
He was beyond jealousy. Everything was about her
reaction, forcing her to see him, look at him, touch him. He wanted
that moment in the forest when the hikers turned the corner, and
she’d whispered, “Don’t you fucking stop.”
The tension in her body, the need, and everything else fell away
but that primal act. It defied logic, yet she had been his more
than at any other moment in their lives.
“Tell me how much you wanted it.” He needed her
confession, too. It was nothing so noble as making an intimate
connection or fixing what had gone wrong or healing or finding a
way to live with each other after what they’d lost. It was
visceral.
Her pebbled nipples branded him with each breath
she took. Then she pulled his hand down to the outline of her
panties. The thong’s crotch was soaked with her desire. “This
much,” she whispered.
He could have had her then, fucked her on the
counter like he’d done last night. He merely stroked her cleft,
absorbed her shudder, then pulled away to reach into his back
pocket.
He laid a business card beside her cosmetics
bag.
She trembled. “What’s that?”
“His phone number. He gave me his card while you
were prettying up in the bathroom before we left.” While she was
erasing the remnants of her ravishment.
“I’m not going to call it,” she said.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“To tell him to come here tonight.”
HOT AND COLD WASHED THROUGH ERIN LIKE A FEVER.
SHE WANTED to masturbate for Dominic now. She couldn’t wait. Needed
the relief. Yet she wondered if she’d been lying to both of them
when she said she’d have done it for Winter. “I didn’t bring my
vibrator.”
He laughed low in his throat. “You have time to
shop.”
Her skin buzzed with aliveness, but her blood
rushed with nerves. “What if someone finds out?”
“He’s not going to tell anyone.”
He lifted her chin, and she realized she’d been
staring at that card. Winter, winter. The winter of discontent.
God, the last year had been so much worse than mere discontent. But
Shakespeare had really been talking about the turn, from winter to
glorious summer, from bad to good. Even if for a fleeting
moment.
“I want it,” Dominic said.
And . . . and . . . Jesus. “I can’t do
it.”
His eyes didn’t change; they still burned. “You
said you could.”
“That was last night. The heat of the moment.”
She swallowed. “You shouldn’t have asked me. You should have just
brought him here.” Okay, that was abdicating responsibility, but it
was the truth. As wet as she was at the thought of it, she didn’t
have the courage to execute.
“Fine. You need to make it up to me,” he stated
flatly, but that glow remained in his eyes. He wasn’t angry. He’d
wanted Winter in their room tonight, but he was adapting to her
whim.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He held her chin in his
hand. “Maybe I should have you get down on your knees and suck me
off like that woman did for her man last night.”
She trembled, her nipples hard, her pussy wet.
“What about my orgasm?”
He smiled cruelly. “You don’t get one. That’s
your punishment for not doing what I told you to.”
She wanted to snicker because cruelty was so not
Dominic’s nature, yet it was another phase of the game he wanted to
play. When they were young and hot, sometimes she’d send him off to
work with a blow job, the taste of come lingering with her. It had
been exciting, the drop to her knees, then pushing him on his way,
knowing he’d think about it all day. The power in that.
“You can swallow me and taste it for hours while
we’re in the booth, knowing what you did to me,” he murmured, eyes
gleaming, as if he were guessing the direction of her thoughts and
the memories suddenly vivid in her mind.
Oh, yes, there was power in sucking a climax
from a man, making the very act almost as good as having an orgasm
herself.
“Then again, maybe I’ll go to my knees and lick
your hot little snatch,” he went on seducing her. “You’ll have the
reminder all day long while I’m talking to customers.” He swiped
his tongue along her cheek. “Remembering how good my mouth felt on
you as I’m introducing you to the people you’ve talked to on the
phone, your customers. What would they think if they knew what a
dirty woman you are?” He trailed a finger down between her breasts,
over her abdomen, to the elastic of her thong.
Her belly fluttered with need. “Too much talk,”
she said, a slight catch in her voice. God, yes, she wanted
it.
His mouth followed the path of his hand as he
slowly went to his knees, then he breathed in the scent of her
arousal, exhaled with a puff of warm air. “You smell good.”
She gripped the bathroom counter, her legs
suddenly weak.
Pulling aside the thong’s crotch, he drew in
another deep breath. “You’re pretty, too, all plump, pink, and
moist.”
His voice drove her crazy, the sight of him down
on his knees for her, like a slave forced to do her bidding. Then
his tongue dipped between her folds, and she closed her eyes. “Oh
yeah,” she murmured.
He swirled against her clit. She throbbed low in
her belly. Then he spread her legs wider, put both hands between
her thighs and cupped her butt, bringing her flush against his
mouth.
“God, that’s good. So good. Put your fingers in
me.”
He didn’t let up on her clit for even a beat,
simply drove two fingers up inside her. She clenched the countertop
so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “Right there, yes, please,
don’t stop.” Her body began to undulate with the rhythm of his
mouth and fingers, and she tried to think of what he’d been saying
before, what he’d wanted. “Every time I look at you today”—she
gasped as he rode that perfect spot inside—“I’ll remember you on
your knees licking my pussy.” Her legs trembled. “When you
introduce me as your wife—oh Jesus—” She squeezed her eyes tight
against the pleasure. “I’ll think about my come all over your
tongue, how you’ll smell like me, taste like me.”
He took her with fervor, as if her words were as
important as the sex, making him hotter, driving him higher. The
climax started as ripples flowing out from his touch, his
tongue.
“I’ll know how you’re thinking about licking me,
sucking me, fucking me, every time you look my way.” She moaned,
and any other words were lost in sensation. Her body bucked against
his mouth. Then she wailed, orgasm roaring over her like a
train.
Coming down from the peak, she was still on her
feet, though her knees were weak. Dominic gazed up at her, his lips
wet with her juice, then he licked his fingers.
“Taste,” he said, rising, cupping her nape,
taking her mouth with the musk of her own come on his tongue.
“Good,” he whispered. “I’ll taste you all day.”
“But—” His cock was hard against her belly.
“That.”
He rotated his hips against her as his dark eyes
glowed like hot coals. “I’m going to be crazy by the time we get
out of there. Then I’m going to fuck the hell out of you the minute
we walk back in this door. You can think about that all day long,” he drawled, “every time I touch
you, every time I look at you.”
Then he held her chin and put his lips to hers,
a sweet kiss still piquant with the taste of her come. “And one
day, you will masturbate for another man while I watch.” He
reminded her about Winter. “I’ll keep asking until you do.”
She could barely move as the outer door clicked
shut.
Yes, he would keep asking. She’d started
something with agreeing to this weekend, and Dominic wasn’t going
to back down.
Gazing at herself in the mirror, her skin glowed
and her lips were full and sensual. She looked so sexy and wanton,
she didn’t recognize herself.