Page 70 of Between Love and Loathing

Me: My actions speak louder than words and apologies, Clara.

Clara: Is that so?

Me: Want me to elaborate further?

She knew where this was going. I saw those dots going and then disappearing again. And instead of waiting for her to respond, my hand went to my cock. Rock fucking solid as always when I thought about her. The pre-cum was already dripping down onto the head of my dick, practically weeping to fuck my fake girlfriend, given that I’d passed on the chance over and over again at this point.

I kept telling myself it was because of her needing to be sober and it not being the right time. I’d wanted her sober, wanted her begging, wanted her to remember. Here, in my home, I couldn’t think of a better time. I wanted it to be real.

And that was a problem. Clara and I were fake but somewhere, somehow, my boundaries had blurred. I slept in her bed and wanted her in mine every night after. I upended her life so she could move in with me even though I never wanted a woman in my home.

I’d wanted Natya the same way and she’d made me believe a damn lie.

Keeping my distance was probably best and I’d done that effortlessly with others in the past. I just had to do it again.

Tonight, though, for just one night, I had some making up to do, and I intended to do it just right.

When my phone finally buzzed on my desk as I pumped myself slowly, I snatched it up with one hand to see just one word.

Clara: Yes.

My fake girlfriend wanted to fuck me as much as I did her.

CLARA

Dominic: If you’re not in your sleepshirt, get in it now. Nothing else.

Ibit my lip, not knowing how far I should take this. I was surrounded by Dominic Hardy. He’d invaded every aspect of my life to the point where even my kittens were meandering around his home.

My suitcase had been packed for me. I ran to it to see if all my bathroom essentials were there, including my vitamins and medication. I caught a sob when I saw them and breathed out once and then twice.

Did he have any idea? Would he have put two and two together? But Dominic was straightforward and would have asked. Most people asked that sort of thing, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have cared, maybe I shouldn’t have cared about him moving me here either. I didn’t know. My mind was still angry, scrambling to take a stand on what he’d done, but my heart kept circling back to him protecting my health—the one thing no one had done for so long. And then he’d said my bakery had flair.

I’d witnessed Dominic in his element now. I knew he didn’t hand out empty compliments. He’d torn down Valentino more than once at the market, told more than one person on his business calls that they were incompetent, and he really wasn’t exaggerating any of his assessments.

He said what he meant to say. Having him seeing even a sliver of my vision had my heart bursting with pride in a way I couldn’t control.

And my body was a complete freaking slut for him. My hand had already slipped under my sleepshirt, whispering over my panty lace to where I was dripping wet for him.

Me: Yes. I’m going to bed after I eat.

Dominic: Want me to eat you out first?

Me: You probably don’t deserve that after what you did today.

I gulped because it felt like he was telling my fingers to slow down, and then he followed up on his last text.

Dominic: Are you touching yourself nice and slow, baby?

I bit my lip. This wasn’t how the texting tonight was supposed to go.

Me: If I said I was?

Dominic: If you did, I’d tell you to slide one finger into that pussy. Feel how wet you get for me. Know I’d drink it all up and then kiss you after, make you taste how sweet you are.

I whimpered at what I was reading because I knew he was only in the other room. We could be doing exactly that instead of this.

I stared at the wall of his room, ran one hand over the white down comforter that pillowed out around me and growled up at his white ceiling. Everything in this room was so clean, so perfect, and somehow so frustrating. I jumped up and messed up the bed, then took some of my clothes and threw them out of the black suitcase they’d been neatly packed into. I wanted me here. My color. My life. My energy. I wanted what was supposed to be my life here in this city.