A giddy glow radiates across my skin as I lift a glass of Moscato in thought. “Hmmm . . . frozen waffles if I’m feeling fancy.”
“Let’s have breakfast together, Aria. Tomorrow morning.”
Bubbles fizzle back up my throat.
“You okay?” He cocks a brow. The ultimate predator awaits his prey’s response.
“Would be ironic, us going for breakfast after I send you home tonight, right?”
My gaze falls to how the candlelight wanders across his chiseled features. Timidly placing down my stemless wine glass, I usher in a cleansing breath. We’re playing a dangerous game again, one where I envision falling for his type. Ha, Aria, what type is Dominic? The kind who must wear shirts or all women lose their marbles.
The gorgeous, fallen angel continues to tempt me in his delectable Cuban accent. “We have to keep up the momentum, Aria. We’ve been having such a good time. You savored dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how I eat a peach.”
Transfixed, I mentally warn myself against salivating as he continues. “If you bite slowly enough, flavor bursts into your mouth. I’ll explain the difference between eating and savoring.”
Voice on the verge of crumbling, I muster, “I know good food.” Which you are not speaking of at all . . . oh, this is trouble.
“I haven’t had a peach in a very long time.” Dominic pauses to scratch the sexy gruff on his jaw.
Are you saying you haven’t had a peach recently? I clamp my mouth shut, but my poker face is hardly fit for a goldfish game.
“Earlier, I had the faint taste of the sweetest peach, coating your mouth.” He trails off, exhaling hard.
He’d ordered me to suck as his slick fingers dominated my mouth. That was a first. He downs his wine, lets his head fall back. I ground myself with a hard bite of my tongue.
“That tiny taste left me very hungry, Aria. Like a fucking animal.” His voice is smoother than a lion’s primal growl. “And like an animal, it’s in my nature to strike.”
At the warning, I bounce to the balls of my feet, brain frazzled. The moment for me to react seems to last ages. Clearing my throat, I grab my plate then start for his.
Dominic’s hand plants over mine. He stands to his full height. Under his breath, the Spanish expletives I’m accustomed to hum seductively through his lips. His hand tightens around my wrist.
I let go of the plate. While he continues to claim me close, my other hand threads his hair. I ride to my tippy toes. God, his mouth is a fraction of an inch away.
Tone astonishingly level, I order, “I don’t want this on your terms.”
“Explain, mujer loca?” His head dips, eyes level to mine. “What the fuck is this? Because I’ve threatened to strike.”
“My terms. Meaning,” I gasp, “I’m going to let you fuck, Dom. Quick. Hard. Then you leave me alone—like the rest of your conquests.” I have a little sanity left to cling to, and you can’t have it! “Okay?”
“Okay.” He growls, lips crashing into mine. His hands are all over my searing, raging flesh, pulling my curves to him.
How dare he agree to my proposal! We’re welded to each other. I break the connection of our mouths. “Quick, Dom. Quick. Hard. Then you’re on to the next. Me too.”
Does he believe the nonchalance? The tangled web of thoughts I’m usually wrapped in doesn’t expand into more musings. I don’t care. I need him now.
Dominic’s touch is a wildfire sliding up the inside of my thigh. He grips the material of my dress. I choke on shock as the silk tears from my achy skin, leaving all my imperfections on display—the soft thighs, and not-so-tiny waist. And breasts, which could use more cushion. Damn, should’ve worn my pushup bra.
“Undress,” I snap, clinging to the notion of evening the playing field. I anchor my hand onto the counter as his pants shove down. My legs go weak at the sight of the muscular line above his thigh—a Caribbean god.
Saliva floods my mouth at the sight of his underwear. Where’s my camera? No words can express the sight. Perfect endowment. I’m torn between falling to my knees in worship in more ways than one. But my thighs jump up, clinging to his chest. Dominic’s muscles flex under my fingertips. Shivers ripple through me. I thrust the apex of my sex onto the tint of cloth, shielding him from me, and I gulp.
This is not going to be an easy task, taking him into any part of my body.
Dominic’s head falls back in a hearty laugh as he squeezes my midriff. Cocky bastard knows my fear of his dick.
“Right here, screwing me here is good enough.”
“Cállate.” He kisses my lips, carrying me out of the kitchen. “You have no idea what you need, mami. I do. Thank me later.”
I bite into his bottom lip, muttering “bastard.”
We collapse into bed, him on top of me. I brace myself for the full force of brick. Dominic steadies himself. The only heavy weight lands against my sex. Again, my brain sparks in consideration of how his cock is going to kill me.
When his mouth descends across my chest, I don’t mind dying.
Our bodies quiver together. Anticipation crackles as his mouth descends on mine. With our mouths locked in fervent passion, I bring my fingers up, stitching them into his curly hair. The moment he stops kissing me feverishly, my fists grip into the sheets. My dangerous, new habit explores me. He alternates between ardent kisses to featherlight licks along my chest, belly button, and stomach. Hot, blinding pleasure builds. My thoughts are overwhelmed as he works his way down.
Dominic’s hands cup my ass. The bristles at his angular jaw tease the inside of my thighs. “Oh, god.” I groan, broken by the expectancy of his first taste.
“Look at you, mami,” Dominic whispers against my sex. His fingertips trace the wetness of my throbbing folds.
I lean on my elbows, ready to beg him to screw me with his mouth. A gorgeous face rises from between my thighs, lips kinked into a knowing smile. My heart lurches in my throat. Sex with Dominic won’t be quick nor hard per my orders. Instead, I’m the one who will be left tortured, desiring more. With a wink, he dives in.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dominic
I don’t kiss women like this, not since Alejandra. Consumed in addiction, I press my fingertips across the wet folds of her sex, opening her like a flower. My nose nuzzles against her clit, tongue sliding into sweet tightness. A groan of enjoyment rips through me.
The scent is intoxicating. The taste, heaven. The feel—I’ll never get the feel of Aria’s pussy off my mind.
My dick strains at the thought of plunging in. I press my mouth over her slick walls, frenching her pussy. Each stroke of my tongue sends Aria’s hips rising off the bed. Like a glass of fine black-label rum from her pussy, her essence tips farther down my throat.
“Dom,” she moans.
I dwell inside of her walls, feasting on her orgasm. She writhes beneath me, hips bucking, again calling my name. When Aria’s voice begins to break, I stiff tongue her pussy one last good time before peeking up between her thighs. My gaze warns that this won’t be quick. It might get a bit turbulent, depending on her shouts as I fuck her, though.
“Dominic!” She falls back onto the bed, body flushed.