He looks down at me like he’s never seen me before. Like if he takes his eyes off me, I might disappear.
“Dom,” I whisper.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I meant what I said.”
He knows what I mean. I see the shock blitz across his features before he lets it go. “That you hurt your brother’s feelings?”
Mocking the look on his face, I let my knees fall to the sides. He misses no opportunity to occupy the space between us.
“No,” I say. “I meant it when I said I needed you.”
His eyes search mine, watching for a sign that I’m kidding. He should know I’m not. Not about this.
Pressing his rock-hard length against the inside of my thigh, he grins. “You need this?”
“I do,” I admit, shifting myself so his sweatpants-covered cock is rubbing along my yoga pants-covered vagina. “But I also need this,” I say, tapping lightly against his temple. “And this.” I lay my palm flat against his chest.
My heart is racing and I know he can hear it. That or at least the way my breath is almost stuttering as I struggle to stay composed long enough to hear his reaction. It’s a gamble to say this, I know, but I’ve played a lot of proverbial poker lately. May as well play one more hand.
“I just want you to know how I feel, in case there was any doubt,” I say. “You—”
His lips fall to mine, halting the rest of my words. There’s a tenderness to the kiss, an almost reverence, that has me closing my eyes and letting him lead me wherever he chooses.
Our tongues lap and swirl against one another, the heat of his body sending my own into the stratosphere. His hand lifts the hem of my shirt and pulls down my bra cup, palming my breast with his calloused hand.
When he pulls back, his short, sharp breaths matching my own, he stares at me with a look I can’t quite place.
“If anyone ever hurts you, physically or otherwise, whether that’s me or someone else, I’ll stop it,” he promises. “All you have to do is tell me. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.”
He forces a swallow. “I don’t know what to do with you and I don’t know what to do without you. It fucks with me, Cam.”
“Well,” I say despite a sandpapery throat. “I know what you can do with me.”
“Oh, I can do that,” he grins wickedly. “That’s never a problem.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
I watch as he strips himself of his shirt, an inch of chiseled perfection visible at a time. His chest is dotted with various tattoos, some he’ll talk about and some he won’t. The broadness of his shoulders is my favorite part of his whole body. Layers of intricate muscle placed in perfect symmetry, descending on one side to the absurdly sexy stomach, and on the other, a back that was built to perfection.
He hops off the bed, his eyes still on me, as he slips off his sweatpants. They fall down his powerful legs before he kicks them off and stands completely naked in front of me.
My legs clench together at the sight of him, the throb strumming into a pace that I almost can’t manage.
“I’m going to give you a tip,” I say.
“I thought I was giving you the tip?”
My giggle makes him grin. “You better be planning on giving me more than the tip, Hughes.”
“Oh, baby. You’re going to get it all.”
“Good. Now that’s settled, back to the other tip.” I study his handsome face. “If we ever get in a fight, which I’m sure we will, all you have to do to fix it is get naked. I can think of nothing else when you are standing there like that.”
“Noted.”
He crawls back on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. His thumbs hook into the waistband of my pants and he yanks them down my legs and casts them to the side. His gaze falls on my panty-less state as his tongue darts to his lips, leaving a glistening trail along the ridge of his mouth.
I sit up and have my shirt and bra discarded in a matter of seconds. My chest heaving, my body begging, I fall back to the pillows, letting my legs fall to the sides, and wait for him.
“If you ever want to distract me, lie in my bed like that,” he groans, his cock in his hand as he takes in the sight of me. “There’s nothing more beautiful than you, naked, in my fucking bed.”
I only close my eyes for a half a second when they fly back open to the most glorious feeling in the world. Looking down, his face positioned between my legs, he grins before sliding his tongue straight up the center of my pussy.
“Oh, shit,” I moan, feeling him part me with his mouth. “God, Dom.”
His teeth bite lightly on my clit, making me shudder. I grasp wildly until my hands are buried in his hair, tugging as bolts of sensations rip through me.
“You like that?” he asks, his lips moving against the sensitive flesh. He licks through my middle again.
“Yes,” I moan, throwing my head back into the pillow.
He fills me with one, then two, fingers and moves them in, out, front to back. His tongue explores my sex, not missing a spot, marking my body as his with a flick of his mouth. Finally, just as my muscles begin to quiver, he removes his fingers in one deft movement.
He’s grinning when my eyes open to see him watching me. “You were almost there, huh?”
“I hate you,” I grimace, letting my bottom lip pout out.
He kisses his way from my inner thigh, up my stomach, over each breast—spending a few seconds on each beaded nipple—up my throat, over my jaw. His tongue dips into my mouth, lapping against my own.
Positioning himself between my legs, I feel him hard against my opening. My ankles lock at the small of his back and I push not-so-gently.
He grins against my mouth. “You want my cock?”
“You want my pussy?”
“Oh, dirty girl,” he teases, rocking his hips against me. I moan at the contact, which only widens his smile. “You know I want you. I always want you.”
“And I always want you. You just wanted me to say it.”
“So?”
I reach up to meet his mouth, capturing it with mine. His cock pushes into me, filling me with one long thrust.
“Ah,” I moan into his mouth before losing all train of thought that doesn’t have to do with me, Dom, and this bed.
Camilla
IT’S NOT QUITE MIDNIGHT BUT it feels both much later and much earlier. I sit in the middle of Dom’s bed, dressed only in one of his t-shirts, and watch the small television that hangs on the opposing wall. The screen is a little off color-wise and it drives me crazy, but I don’t dare say anything. And I dare even less to buy him a new one. I’ll just wait for his birthday.
He comes in the room, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. In each hand is a plate and on each plate is a sandwich. “Dinner is served.”
“You look pretty proud of that . . .” I take the plate. “Peanut butter and jelly.”
“It’s all we have. Ryder loves this shit.” He takes a big bite, a glob of grape jelly falling to the plate. “Not bad. The key to a great pb&j is the ratio of peanut butter to jelly. You gotta get it just right.”
“Is that so?” I giggle, biting into it. It’s so thick it sticks to the top of my mouth. “I think you’re a little heavy on the peanut butter.”