Page 187 of By A Thread

I felt the tremor that started in his legs as I took him deeper into my mouth. His hands slapped against the wall, and I grabbed the base of his shaft, moving fingers and mouth together in long, wet strokes.

“Baby, you’re going to make me—”

He didn’t get the rest of the words out because he was coming. Loudly, exuberantly pouring what felt like an entire fucking protein shake directly down my throat.Oh my God. I was drowning.And he just. Kept. Coming.

He was sliding down the wall, still coming. I was still valiantly trying not to die as my eyes watered and my mouth overflowed.

We ended up in a tangle on the floor. The tile cooling heated skin. Muscles still shaking. Dominic stroked a hand over my hip.

“I think I pulled a hamstring,” he whispered.

“I think you impregnated my lungs.”

“This is my best birthday ever,” he said, his chest still heaving.

“Birthday blow job for the win,” I said, sucking in a breath of jizz-free air.

“I’m going to need ten minutes, some ibuprofen, a glass of water, and then I’m going to return the favor,” he promised.

61

Ally

Charming: I am so bored I might set this place on fire just to stay awake.

Me: Poor baby, in beautiful sunny Los Angeles surrounded by beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes.

Charming: What are you wearing?

Ilaughed.

And caught the side-eye Nelson sent me from behind the wheel.

I held up my phone. “Dominic from LA. He’s grouchy.”

Nelson’s mouth twitched under his mustache. Dominic had assigned him to Driving Miss Ally duty while he was gone. We were on our way home from my evening dance class that Nelson had politely declined to attend and instead had waited in a coffee shop one block down.

Me: A parka. You’re missing out on the cold snap to end all cold snaps.

It was a frigid Friday night, and Dominic had been gone for four days for LA’s Fashion Week. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Six days away? Pfft. No problem. I had plenty to keep me occupied. And I hadn’t had the guy in my life for so long that I was used to having him around. Right?

Big fat wrong-o, buddy.

I missed him aggressively, obsessively. I made tea every morning just because the smell reminded me of him. Every night before I left work, I walked up to Dom’s office and sat behind his desk because it felt like he’d walk through the door any minute. Hell, the practically inconsolable Brownie and I were both sleeping in Dom’s t-shirts. Me because I missed him and Brownie because it was hilarious.

In an effort to keep my mind off how much I’d missed him, I’d smuggled Brownie into my Dad’s nursing home, having him pose as a therapy dog. A therapy dog that ate a nurse’s roast beef sandwich when she wasn’t looking. I unashamedly blamed it on Mrs. Kramer, a known snack thief. I’d even gone with Faith to a video shoot for the online content team that Christian invited us to at his studio. Sparks were definitely flying between club owner and designer. Both of whom seemed to be playing a little hard to get.

But none of it made me miss Dominic less.

Charming: I wish I was there to keep you warm.

I sighed and fought the urge to clutch my phone to my heart.

The only things that made Dom’s absence almost tolerable were his hourly texts describing every detail of the trip. Fashion Week was a dream for some. For Dominic Russo, it was a nightmare. Endless shows, afterparties, and wardrobe changes. Red carpets everywhere. People whose names he was expected to rememberandbe impressed with.

Me: Question. Do you miss me or your vests more?

He hadn’t packed a single vest. For which I was eternally grateful.