Page 39 of Mine
‘Do I have to call you sir?’ she whispers.
I tease her entrance with my fingers, and she rewards me with a fresh trickle of slick arousal. I smear it through her slippery folds, stroking her up and down from her slit to her clit. ‘If you were my submissive, you would.’
‘I knew you were dangerous, Dominic Kincaid,’ she murmurs tilting her head down to watch my hand disappearing beneath her dress. ‘Now, I’m beginning to think you’re deadly.’
‘I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart.’ My lips land on hers again, and I fuck her mouth with my tongue in the same slow, decadent rhythm that I fuck her slippery seam with my fingers, using my free hand to tease her nipples. She’s so tight. So wet. So fucking perfect.
Her blue eyes blaze into mine as I defile her slowly, thoroughly. Within seconds, her thighs tense around my hips.
She’s close.
So fucking close.
I brush my thumb over her clit and her core clenches around my fingers, squeezing and pulsing as her orgasm rips through her.
‘Dom,’ she screams, riding my hand like a fucking expert. The woman is so damn responsive. I swallow her moans as she bucks and grinds through her release.
When she finally stills, I slip my fingers out of her andbring them to my mouth. She watches, wide-eyed, as I lick each of them in turn, slowly savouring her sweetness.
‘What a fucking starter,’ I blow out a breath, place one hand on her thigh again, and lift her dress up to survey her slick, glistening cunt. Stunning.
I tear my eyes away from the pink perfection to meet hers.
Shit.
Now that the tension has eased, regret creeps into her big blue eyes.
Regret and shame.
I can read her like an open book.
I sigh, smoothing her dress back down over her thighs, but I can’t bring myself to pull the material up over her transcendent tits. They should be out at all times. It’s a crime to have them covered.
‘Dom,’ she whispers. It’s the second time she’s shortened my name, and I love how it sounds on her lips. Dom by name, Dom by nature. ‘Fuck.’ She pinches the bridge of her nose. ‘That wasn’t part of our arrangement. It shouldn’t have happened.’ She pauses. ‘It can’t happen again.’
‘If you say so, darling.’ I shrug, pulling back a few inches.
I’ve never made a secret of wanting her.
But now I’ve tasted how sweet she is, now I’ve felt how wet she is for me, heard my name from her lips as she came on my hand, I’m like an addict following their first hit—I need more.
‘I’m sorry.’ She shakes her head.
‘I’m not. I got carried away, but that’s just what I do.’
Her eyes bore into mine, swimming with unshed tears, and fuck, I feel like the monster we both know I am. I’ve never hugged a woman in my life—other than my mother that is, but the urge to comfort her claws at my heart.
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart, please don’t cry.’ I take her into my arms, wrapping them tightly around her. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. Finally, she surrenders to my embrace and slumps into my chest. I hold her silently like that for several minutes, then the front door slams.
‘Yoohoo, lovebirds,’ Sheila calls a split second before barging into the kitchen, ‘I heard about Miranda, I came to make you…’ she trails off as she takes in the sight in front of her—Aoife spread legged on the kitchen counter, dress around her waist and my hips between her legs, albeit not how I’d like to be, but, nevertheless, it looks the same.
Sheila’s hands fly to her face, but not before I see her grin. ‘Sorry, sorry, clearly you guys have your own dinner plans tonight.’ She backs out the doorway. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow.’ The front door slams again.
Aoife yanks her dress up, shoves me aside, and hops off the counter. ‘I need some space.’ She rushes out of the room, and I hear her feet pounding up the stairs.
I pour myself a whiskey and stare out over the pool, contemplating.
I pushed too hard. Too fast.
