“Taste it,” he ordered.
Dutifully, I took that hot, velvety crown into my mouth and ran my tongue in a circle.
He hissed out a breath and shoved a hand into my hair.
“You make such a beautiful fucking picture right now, Ally.”
As a reward, I took a little more of him into my mouth.
His head hit the wall behind him. I hoped not hard enough for a concussion. I hummed my pleasure against his flesh.
I could taste him. Could feel the pulse of blood beneath his skin with my tongue. He fed another inch into my mouth and held my head still with his hand in my hair.
The guttural growl that rose up from his chest had me squeezing my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building there. This wasn’t my life, I decided. Any minute now, I was going to wake up in a ditch somewhere after having been hit by a bus and not know how powerful it felt to have Dominic Russo’s cock in my mouth.
But until then, I was going to savor every damn second of this.
I slid my mouth over him as far down as I could go without choking. My lips brushed his fingers.
“Ally,” he rasped again. I reveled in hearing my name. If it had been hot hearing him hiss out my name while pleasuring himself in secret, this was a five-alarm inferno, and I was getting burned.
I rocked forward and back, laving his shaft, the blunt crown, that sensitive slit with my tongue. He was gritting out dirty promises and praise while I sucked his cock. The fabric of my dress was teasing my nipples, making them beg for more.
The noises we both made were inhuman, and if Brownie hadn’t been passed out upside down on the couch, he would have been growling at the door to the foyer.
I wanted him inside me. I wanted to pull his hair and bite his neck. I wanted to come. But more than all of that combined, I wanted to taste him.
“You need to slow down,” he warned, his voice unsteady as I rocked faster, sucked harder.
But I wasn’t slowing down, and I sure as hell wasn’t stopping.
I felt the tremor that started in his legs as I took him deeper into my mouth. His hands slapped against the wall, and I grabbed the base of his shaft, moving fingers and mouth together in long, wet strokes.
“Baby, you’re going to make me—”
He didn’t get the rest of the words out because he was coming. Loudly, exuberantly pouring what felt like an entire fucking protein shake directly down my throat. Oh my God. I was drowning. And he just. Kept. Coming.
He was sliding down the wall, still coming. I was still valiantly trying not to die as my eyes watered and my mouth overflowed.
We ended up in a tangle on the floor. The tile cooling heated skin. Muscles still shaking. Dominic stroked a hand over my hip.
“I think I pulled a hamstring,” he whispered.
“I think you impregnated my lungs.”
“This is my best birthday ever,” he said, his chest still heaving.
“Birthday blow job for the win,” I said, sucking in a breath of jizz-free air.
“I’m going to need ten minutes, some ibuprofen, a glass of water, and then I’m going to return the favor,” he promised.
61
Ally
Charming: I am so bored I might set this place on fire just to stay awake.
Me: Poor baby, in beautiful sunny Los Angeles surrounded by beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes.
Charming: What are you wearing?
I laughed.
And caught the side-eye Nelson sent me from behind the wheel.
I held up my phone. “Dominic from LA. He’s grouchy.”
Nelson’s mouth twitched under his mustache. Dominic had assigned him to Driving Miss Ally duty while he was gone. We were on our way home from my evening dance class that Nelson had politely declined to attend and instead had waited in a coffee shop one block down.
Me: A parka. You’re missing out on the cold snap to end all cold snaps.
It was a frigid Friday night, and Dominic had been gone for four days for LA’s Fashion Week. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Six days away? Pfft. No problem. I had plenty to keep me occupied. And I hadn’t had the guy in my life for so long that I was used to having him around. Right?
Big fat wrong-o, buddy.
I missed him aggressively, obsessively. I made tea every morning just because the smell reminded me of him. Every night before I left work, I walked up to Dom’s office and sat behind his desk because it felt like he’d walk through the door any minute. Hell, the practically inconsolable Brownie and I were both sleeping in Dom’s t-shirts. Me because I missed him and Brownie because it was hilarious.
In an effort to keep my mind off how much I’d missed him, I’d smuggled Brownie into my Dad’s nursing home, having him pose as a therapy dog. A therapy dog that ate a nurse’s roast beef sandwich when she wasn’t looking. I unashamedly blamed it on Mrs. Kramer, a known snack thief. I’d even gone with Faith to a video shoot for the online content team that Christian invited us to at his studio. Sparks were definitely flying between club owner and designer. Both of whom seemed to be playing a little hard to get.
But none of it made me miss Dominic less.
Charming: I wish I was there to keep you warm.
I sighed and fought the urge to clutch my phone to my heart.
The only things that made Dom’s absence almost tolerable were his hourly texts describing every detail of the trip. Fashion Week was a dream for some. For Dominic Russo, it was a nightmare. Endless shows, afterparties, and wardrobe changes. Red carpets everywhere. People whose names he was expected to remember and be impressed with.
Me: Question. Do you miss me or your vests more?
He hadn’t packed a single vest. For which I was eternally grateful.
So of course I’d entertained myself—and tortured him—by trying on his vest collection and sending him selfies while wearing nothing else but a glossy coat of lipstick. Checking all the photos and video footage to see if he had a visible erection from one of the pictures was my new favorite game.
Speaking of photos, Dominic hadn’t been photographed with his arms around any of the bevies of stunning models flooding the city. In fact, in every photo, he had a camera-thrilling scowl and both hands in his pockets. I hadn’t asked him not to hug beautiful women. But he’d refrained anyway.
I was starting to think the man liked me. Really, really liked me.
Of course, just to make sure I wasn’t feeling totally confident, there had been a handful of mentions of Dominic flying solo with the speculation that our relationship was on the rocks. The jabs felt almost personal, but I tried not to read too much into it.
My phone buzzed again.
Dominic: You in my vests. Next year you’re coming with me.
I felt a thrill rush through me that had nothing to do with the seat warmer.
Were we really talking about next year? Was I okay with that? I checked in with several of my organs. Yep. Most of them reported back with resounding hell yeses. My brain was a little more pragmatic. There were a lot of things still up in the air. I was still behind on the bills. The renovations were stalled until Dom came home since the man forbade me from going over there alone. It was one little carpet tack puncture and a tetanus shot. Dom acted like I’d been held up at gunpoint.