He chuckles, dotting kisses up and down my neck. “I love this too, feeling your body give up the fight of the day and let me take over.” He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. “I love that you trust me enough to let your shoulders sink out of that perfect posture you walk around with.”
As he reaches up and undoes the elastic in my hair, I watch his features soften. He moves carefully, unwrapping the tie from the twisted mess in my locks, careful not to pull.
“There,” he says, cupping the back of my head through my long tresses, “that’s better.”
“You don’t like my hair up?”
“Not like you had it. You look to lunching-y,” he says, wrinkling his nose.
“Lunching-y?”
“Yes,” he grins.
“You are too cute.”
“You are too fucking sexy.”
Reaching up, I swipe the pad of my thumb over the cut above his eye. He flinches, but just for a second. “What happened?”
“Bond’s right hand.”
“I hate him.”
“So do I,” he snickers.
“Let’s get some ice for it.”
He leans in, his brows tugging together. “Let’s not.” His eyes hood as he takes me in, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. My knees weaken, my body humming with delight at his reaction.
“I want to take care of you,” I whisper, although that’s really on the backburner now. “Let me baby you.”
Instead, he lifts me up and places me on the table. My stomach clenches as he positions himself between my thighs, my sundress curling at my waist. I ring my legs around him, pulling him so close that the soft cotton of his sweatpants rubs against my opening.
He looks down. “You aren’t wearing panties.”
“Nope.”
When his gaze flips back to my eyes, it’s so heated I think he’s going to combust. “You’ve run around all day like this?”
“Maybe.”
“Damn it, Camilla,” he growls, placing his hand in between us. A finger slides through my slit easily, dragging the wetness around my opening. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.”
“What’s it matter?” I moan, letting my arms dangle off his sculpted shoulders.
“Cam.”
“Fine. I took them off in my car and shoved them in my purse when I got here. I wanted to be ready for you.”
He sinks a finger, then two, inside. A gush of breath escapes my throat, a soft moan on its tail. Pulling them out, he thrusts them inside me again. “You’re ready for me. There’s no doubt about that.”
“Dom?”
“What, beautiful?”
“I need you inside me.”
Smirking, he works his fingers in a torturously slow circle. “Now?”
“Yes, fucking now,” I pant.
My eyes are closed as I place my hands behind me and lean back, giving him as much access as he wants. His thumb sits heavily on my clit, putting gentle pressure as he works me into a heated frenzy.
“Dominic,” I groan before yelping as he slides his long, hard cock into me. “God!”
“Is that what you want? Now?” he laughs, slowly withdrawing before pushing hard inside once more, until he hits the wall of my vagina. “You want this now?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “No, actually I don’t. I don’t want this. I want you to fuck me.”
He growls, the intensity of his actions building steadily. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Dom.”
My hair swishes against the table, my legs burning with an orgasm that’s been waiting to release since I saw him at the bar. His hands are all over me—cupping my breasts, holding my shoulders, squeezing my hips—as he finds the rhythm we both love.
When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite put my finger on. He smiles.
“Harder, please,” I say, the words bouncing with every thrust.
His smile widens, grows cocky, and pushes me that much closer to the edge. “Your pussy can’t handle my cock. Feel that? That’s me hitting the back.” He slams into me, his girth stretching me so far it almost burns. “You’re. So. Damn. Tight.”
With each thrust, I’m brought to the brink of undoing. Every grin, every whiff of his cologne brings me closer and closer to the climax I crave.
I lean forward and grip his arms, his biceps sweaty and flexing under my touch. He growls, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swirls his hips as he’s deep inside me.
“Either we stop or I’m gonna be done,” he says through gritted teeth. “You have about two seconds to decide.”
“Come,” I say, letting my legs fall to the sides and drop onto the puddled tabletop. “Ah,” I shout as he drives mind-numbingly hard into my pussy. “Dominic!”
“Cam,” he mutters, powering into me one final, heavy time as I topple around him.
My nails bite into his skin, his back flexing against my hands as I yell out his name. My thighs tremble as I run my hands to his ass, feeling it tense as he spills himself inside me.
Every muscle in my body contracts, quivering from the orgasm that catapults its way through every piece of my being. I can’t focus on anything but the intense sensation that starts in my belly and soars through my veins.
I sag as I come back to my senses, totally spent from both the physical and emotional rush. He guides my back to the table and I lie on the spot where we eat breakfast, my dress shoved to my chest.
He braces himself on the table, panting as hard as I am. “That was worth the wait.”
“The wait?” I giggle, completely sated. “It took you like three minutes from when I walked in the door.”
“I’ve waited on this a lot longer than that.” He takes my hand and pulls me up. “Now make me a sandwich.”
“Go to hell,” I say, kissing his lips. “You make me a sandwich.”
He nips my bottom lip, making me yelp. “How about this? You go get cleaned up and I’ll stick the food in the microwave. Then you can get it out.”
“That’s a messed up compromise,” I laugh.
“But a compromise no less.” He smacks my butt as I head towards the bathroom. “You better hustle or I’ll haul your ass off to bed.”
Instead of hurrying, I pull my dress up to my waist and sway my hips back and forth as I walk across the room. “So not like th—Dominic!”
I don’t get the words out before I’m hauled over his shoulder, one hand cupping my ass as he holds me in place and carries me down the hall as promised.
Dominic
THE PAPER-THIN WALLS OF THE apartment make it clear Nate is home. The door squeaks open and latches, the locks twisting, before I hear him shuffle down the hallway. He’s shushing what I guess is a sleeping Ryder before the door to the guest room down the hall pulls closed.
Releasing a breath, I try to close my eyes but they pop open again. Sleep isn’t my friend on a good night. I’ve battled with insomnia my entire life. I can remember lying in bed and listening to my parents fight it out upstairs above me. The walls would shake before a thud would hit the ceiling. I’d squeeze my eyes and hope my dad wasn’t hurting my mom.