Page 165 of Hot Mess
“She could,” I murmured. “She’s a dominatrix.”
“Huh?” His arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. “What did you say?”
“Mmm.”
“She’s what?”
“Oh… that’s supposed to be private,” I murmured sleepily. “Oops.”
He chuckled a little under his breath.
I smiled. “Just don’t mess with her, okay? I like your balls where they are. I already did enough damage to your dick…” Then I frowned and reached for him, running my hand up his hip behind me. I’d noticed he’d kept his groin from physical contact with my body, leaving a careful gap between us in that area. “Ashley…” I sighed. “Does it hurt?”
He took my hand and placed it in front of my chest, wrapping his arm around me.
The last thing I was aware of was his mouth brushing my neck. “Sleep, babe,” he whispered.
I slept.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash
Three days later, I arrived at Danica’s aunt’s house for a family brunch—with Danica and her sister.
Danica had insisted they pick me up, and Daniella had driven the three of us in her car. I’d spent the drive from my place over the Lions Gate Bridge into West Vancouver listening to the two of them bicker in the front seat over every song that came on. We didn’t hear a single one all the way through, though I definitely heard more Drake than I’d ever needed to.
I didn’t really mind.
When you dated someone, you kinda dated their whole family too, and all that shit, right?
Not that Danica and I had been on an actual date, technically, but it definitely felt like we were seeing each other now. I knew this because, as I lounged in the backseat, I was kinda sweating over meeting her parents.
Mainly because Danica and her sister were looking like some fashion spread—and I felt like a fucking slob in my sweatpants.
Danica wore a long, soft-yellow dress with a giant slit that showed off her sexy legs. Daniella was wearing a little ruffled thing, like one of those dresses that’s actually shorts. And both of them were wearing a bunch of gorgeous jewelry that Daniella made a point of telling me Danica had made.
Daniella had her hair up in a perfect, messy ponytail, and Danica… I didn’t even want to dwell on it.
Long, loose butterscotch waves drifting over her shoulders… and the sundress that kept falling off her shoulders.
Unfortunately for me, my dick hadn’t healed yet. I’d actually put off seeing Danica for the last few days, because I knew by now that just being in the same room with her would give me a raging hard-on, and every time I got a hard-on, my dick hurt like hell.
And bled.
The cut wasn’t deep, but since I couldn’t exactly keep it still and untouched unless I was lying flat on my back, naked—which I’d done for most of Thursday, and it was fucking boring—it kept opening back up.
Definitely wasn’t healing as fast as I expected it to. As fast as I needed it to, so I could go ahead and screw Danica.
The thought of even attempting to put on a condom with an open wound on my dick made me shudder.
I couldn’t figure out any kind of bandage situation that would work, so here I was, about to meet her family for the first time, with a dick wound inflicted during foreplay.
Not to mention that Danica never actually told me we were going to her aunt’shouse. I just assumed we were meeting her family at a restaurant.
She also didn’t tell me her family was fucking loaded. Gated drive, giant bronze horse statue in the driveway, and four-car garage with two Aston Martins and a Benz parked in it. Some dude who was obviously on the payroll had the doors open and was hand washing one of them.
Just made me feel more underdressed than I already did in my fucking sweats.
