He thinks I’m an easy going, fun loving actress.
He used those lines on me because he thinks I know what I’m doing in the bedroom.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
I don’t want to doubt him, but as he returns to the living room and glances at me, I’m sure I detect a flicker of distaste in his eyes, as though he’s waded too deep into a dirty pool and would very much like to get out now.
Am I being unfair?
“Tell me about this man,” he says quietly, sitting down beside me and reaching across for my hand.
I squeeze onto it, willing some of his strength to transmit to me.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
He smirks, but there’s no humor or lightheartedness in the gesture. It’s one hundred percent deathly rage. Relief that Craig isn’t here moves through me when I see that look in Dom’s eyes, because the last thing I want is for him to go to prison. And he would, I know. Craig wouldn’t stand a chance against Dominic Dallison, my hero, my goliath, the man whose expectations I’m going to have to shatter soon.
“Everything,” he says.
I talk slowly and haltingly, but as I squeeze tightly onto his hand, I manage to force the story out.
I tell him how I played a minor role in a play last year, and for whatever messed up reason, this guy decided that he’d fallen in love with me and wanted to be my boyfriend.
“It was really weird,” I whisper, risking a glance at him and letting go of the too-strong bite of my lip. “I mean, it’s not like when you told me you were claiming me, Dom. I want you. But with him, it’s like he just assumed I was going to fall at his feet and start worshipping him. When I didn’t, he got mean. He got weird.”
I tell him about the endless flowers sent to class, never with a message. And then, when I ignored the flowers, he started hanging out outside our house. When I somehow managed to ignore that, the vandalism began.
“Keying cars, puncturing tires, even smashing our downstairs window. I eventually got a restraining order on him, which was horrible because I had to see him in court and he told me he loved me, right there in front of everybody. It was horrible. I didn’t even know this person. Even after the restraining order, he’d send me collages, photos of me he’d taken secretly in public. I guess I thought he was done. But clearly not.”
I take a breath as I disentangle my hands from his, rising to my feet and telling myself that this is for the best. For him, at least. Because I’ve got more baggage than an airliner and that’s not even the worst part.
“That’s half the reason I have to go now,” I whisper.
“What?” Dom mutters, voice deep, rumbling. “Go? Why?”
I blink away tears, and then try to wave them away in such an actor’s gesture I let my hand drop with a quiet laugh.
“Because I don’t want to disappoint you,” I say. “Like it’s not bad enough that I’ve brought a stalker to your house.”
He stands up fluidly, every movement honed to animal ease.
He steps forward and leans down, bringing his face close to mine, his scent overwhelming me. I blink and then, for the briefest moment, I swear I can see us sitting in this same room but surrounded by children, and maybe a dog. A life.
“I can’t,” I croak, placing my hand on his chest meaning to push myself away.
But instead I grab hold of him tighter, feeling his engorged muscles, feeling the sweat pressing through his shirt.
“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me and whatever it is, we’ll face it. Together.”
“I’m a virgin,” I blurt, staring into his dumbfounded face. “See, Dom? Some things are just too complicated, aren’t they?”
I turn to leave.
Chapter Seven
Dominic
I watch as she spins away from me, her skirt fluttering around her hips and her ass, my eyes roaming over her and immediately forgetting the brick, the message, the police.
I just stare at her as her words thud into me, doing something primal to my insides, unleashing a long withheld desire to dominate and own.
She’s making toward the door, her legs grinding together and glistening slightly from where her gushing come drenched her and me. I can still smell her scent in the air, drifting up from my fingers.
“Wait,” I growl, when she’s about to walk into the hallway.
She pauses, head bowed, not turning back.
“Why?” she says. “What’s the point? I’ve seen you, Dom. You’re the hottest guy in town. You’re rich. I bet you’ve been with all kinds of women. There’s no way you want a girl who doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”
“Is that what you think this is about?”
My voice is like a volcano as I walk across the room, my manhood a solid metal pole inside my pants, throbbing like it could explode any moment and fill my underwear with my seed.
But I’d never let that happen.
Every drop is meant for her wet, tight, virgin pussy.
Fuck, I need this woman.
“I need you now more than ever,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her close to me, leaning down so that I can grind my cock against her ass cheeks, tracing them with my enraged head.
“Is there seriously a part of you that thinks this makes me want you less?”
I press more firmly against her, feeling my cock trying to erupt from my pants and make a home between her luscious ass cheeks, my seed writhing up and down my length as it tries to squirt warmly into her pink hole.
Take her, fuck her, impregnate her. Now.
Messages from my ancestors roar out inside of me. And even if there’s a tiny part of me that would’ve laughed at such thoughts before, nothing about this is funny now.
“I need you so badly I’d walk through ten miles of fire, without my gear for you,” I whisper in her ear, kissing her just behind it so that shivers move through her. “I’d go into that theater naked and rescue you a thousand times if that’s what it took. You think this makes me want you less?”
I take her by the shoulders and spin her around, the shock making her eyes widen as she stares at me, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.
I smooth my finger along her lips and she lets it go with a gasp.
Images of her stalker stabs into my mind, the way he toyed with her, messed with her head, making her think she was anything less than what she is.
A queen, my queen, and nobody else is ever going to touch her.
“I want to be your first,” I tell her. “I want to experience that together. I want to put a baby inside you the first time we make love, Lilah. I’ve waited my whole damn life for you and this just makes it sweeter. I want to taste you. I want to fuck you. Now.”
“Now?” she whimpers, chest rising and falling, a flame red blush blooming in her cheeks.
“I’ll never rush you,” I growl. “But before I take you, I need to taste that virgin pussy. I need to kiss and lick and nibble it until you squirt all over my mouth.”
She gasps, moving closer to me, turning her face up so that all I can do is lean down and press my lips against hers, tasting her, the passion in the movement of her tongue, her moans coming through our tight pressed lips.