Page 30 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)
He does, matching me step for step. I retreat until my back hits the wall.
He keeps coming until he’s so close that I have to widen my stance because there’s nowhere for me to go.
I’m pressed into the wall as far as I can be.
Dom takes all the space up, sucking all the oxygen out of the room, even though we’re just playing. My spine crushes into the drywall.
“Take your shirt off,” he commands, his voice deeper and darker than I’ve ever heard it.
I stare into the blue well of his eyes, drowning in the dark depths. His pupils are already blown. He strokes his hand down my cheek, cupping my chin, tilting my face up.
“I said, Bronte, take your shirt off.”
I fumble with it, the long sleeves trapping me. It’s light and loose, like most of my clothes, but my haste turns it into a cage. I finally spring it free, tugging it over my head in what is probably the least sexy of ways, messing my hair all over my face so that I have to finger comb it back.
Dom’s not looking at my hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on my breasts.
They’re fuller after having Elowen. My body still looks almost the same as before.
I didn’t get stretchmarks, but I do have a little bit of loose skin on my stomach.
I’m not self-conscious about it. I love that my body changed so that I could carry life and give birth safely, and so that I could feed my baby after.
Dom’s eyes fixate on my breasts before tumbling lower. I know that he’s seeing all the things I’m thinking about, and I love the rush of warmth that darkens his gaze further.
“Beautiful,” he breathes reverently. “Take off your bra. Let me see your breasts.”
My hands are just as shaky as when I stripped my shirt away. I’m not nervous, but I’m still trembling. It’s nerves, but not apprehension. It’s excitement.
I undo the clasp and let the straps shiver down my arms.
“Take your breasts in your hands and touch your nipples. I want to watch you pleasure yourself. Show me exactly how you want me to touch them.”
For someone who was reluctant about doing this, he’s really good at giving commands. It’s so different that another shiver rocks through me.
I cup both of them in my hands. They’re large enough now that they overflow my palms. I roll my thumb over one nipple and my index finger over the other. They don’t need much encouragement to become hard peaks.
Dom’s hand trickles down from my jaw, his fingers brushing over my rapidly hammering pulse point. “Does this excite you, having me look at you like this?”
“Yes,” I pant. Having him look at me in any way, anytime, has always set my heart to racing.
“Do you want me to take those sweet nipples in my mouth?”
“Y-yes.”
“What do you want me to do to them. Tell me, Bronte. Tell me in detail .”
My pulse picks up, hammering against his fingers. My entire body is a firework, ready to explode into a thousand brightly colored pieces. The worst of it is the hammering between my legs, in my upper thighs, in my belly. Everywhere.
“Tear my leggings off like you did yesterday and put your fingers inside me while you like and suck and bite my nipples.”
His eyes widen. He told me to tell him what I wanted, and that’s exactly what I need .
“If I do that, you won’t have many pairs of leggings left.”
“That’s okay. They’re old anyway. I should probably replace them. This is a good way for them to go to the legging afterlife.”
“I could command you strip them off slowly. Dip your fingers in under your panties and tease yourself. Coat your fingers and let me suck them clean. I could give you my mouth, but only to tease you until you can’t take it any longer. Is that the kind of punishment you want?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time, but now it seems a lot less fun than you tearing off your clothes and sinking your fingers and your cock all the way inside me before I have a meltdown from needing you so badly.”
He blinks.
I blink.
He slow blinks.
He’s never heard me say that word before.
I’m flustered now that I did, even if it was kind of hot, but I can’t think of anything but how much I want him right now.
I imagine how he’d pin my naked body to the wall before he uses his fingers to spread me open.
He wouldn’t have the patience to go slow, not with me wrapping my leg around his hips and urging him forward.
The light throws shadows over Dom’s stark beauty. The two sides of his face are completely different, one in harsh lines, the other so much softer. The light shadows and illuminates. He’s such a thing of beauty and he’s entirely mine.
“I changed my mind. I don’t need you to punish me. I just need you to- to- to do anything to me.”
“Anything?”
“Anything and everything.”
“You want me to show you just how good it feels to be worshipped?” He nips my earlobe between his teeth. He kisses the sting and then sets his lips where his fingers were, above my rapidly hammering pulse. All I can do is stand there and melt, trapped between him and the wall.
“I had this fantasy of me licking ice cream off of you earlier. Or whipped cream. Isn’t that what people normally do?”
“That and chocolate sauce.”
“Or cheese.”
“Cheese?” His laughter is deep and unexpected, a throaty chuckle that rumbles through me, resounding in my belly.
He doesn’t wait for a response before he finds the hollow of my throat and kisses me there.
He’s unbelievably gentle as his explores my shoulder and collarbones.
It takes him half a century to get to my breast. By the time he does, I’m a mess, glad that he’s using his weight to hold me up because I’m little better than jelly.
“I don’t know if I wanted the punishment or just the words more,” I admit as he laves the side of my breast with his tongue. Goosebumps break out over my body, raising the hairs on my arms.
He grunts, but only because his mouth is busy. His tongue circles my nipple. It’s already hard, but the way his hot breath skates over the wet flesh starts an internal shiver that climbs from my toes all the way up to my thighs.
He stops short of scraping his teeth over the tight peak of my nipple. He just breathes, and I swear that I could almost come from that alone.
“You’ve never touched yourself for me. Will you show me?”
“That would be punishing you,” I protest. “Or torturing you.”
The thought of doing what I’ve only ever done in private, terrifies me and rocks me to my depths.
Of any gift I’ve ever given Dom, this would be the most intimate.
I’ve made him come in so many different ways and he’s seen every bit of me, but making myself come while he watches implies some sort of showmanship that I don’t know I have in me.
It’s not shyness, exactly. I’m half afraid I’ll get too nervous and burst out laughing from it.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” His tongue slips over my nipple again, barely touching me, a torturous graze that draws a loud whimper from me.
“I do want to. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics.”
That earns me another surprised, gruff laugh. “It’s not college level stats class.”
“You’re freaking right it’s not. I hated those classes.”
My body is a storm of emotions and half animalistic desire.
Dom lifts his head and kisses me. He’s still contained, but the way his lips part mine, half demand, half ask, is so sexy that my knees get even weaker.
His tongue parts my lips and tangles with mine.
He deepens the kiss and I make sure that I tilt my face so that he doesn’t have to, because I’m still worried that he’s going to undo all that careful healing.
He tugs my head back so he can drink his fill.
His lips leave mine for a moment and his voice is hoarse as he asks, “Would you like me to command you to do it? To touch yourself. Tell you that it would be the hottest thing that I’ve ever seen? That watching you make yourself come would literally reshape my brain chemistry?”
“Would it?”
“I’d like to carve you in that position.”
I let out a little squeal of outraged surprise that I quickly smother, laughing behind my hand. “Don’t you dare!”
“Best to give me the real thing then.”
“So you can use it for inspiration later?”
“So that I won’t, because nothing could ever come close to comparing to the real thing.”
“Flattery.” I roll my eyes and lightly smack his shoulder.
“Says the woman not currently wearing a top, who just asked to be punished.”
“I can admit when I can’t hand it out or take it.”
“Should I ask you nicely?” His hand slips down and wedges between us, cupping me over my leggings. I’m aware how soaked I am, probably enough that he can feel it through all the layers already.
“Yes. Please ask me nicely.”
He looks up, treating me to the full intensity of his eyes. Did I say I could drown in them? I could also live in them. Swim in them. They’re so intense and otherworldly.
“You’re asking me nicely to ask you nicely?”
His finger swirls over my clit and then he presses down with the heel of his hand. My back arches, hitting the wall and thrusting my hips straight into his hand and the source of a thousand more potent shockwaves that hit me all at once, knocking the breath right out of me.
“Please, will you make yourself come, Bronte? I could edge you until you’re begging me to let you climax, but it would be so much hotter watching you do it. I want to know exactly how you touch yourself. I want this private moment. I want all your firsts, including this.”
“That was a pretty nice ask.”
“A pretty hot one too.”
“Look at you.” I can’t keep a goofy grin from breaking over my face. “It’s fun when you talk during this.”
He steps back, leaving me with a gust of cool air while he looks pointedly at the couch.
I don’t know the first thing about putting on a show like this, but I asked Dom to shove himself way the heck out of his comfort zone. He’s still not done giving me a show. He sinks down into the armchair across from the couch and sets his foot on his knee, folding his hands over his stomach.
Waiting.
Waiting for me to make myself feel like a goddess.
Dom might appear to be casually sitting there, in control, playing it up like he’s bored, but it’s clear that’s only a front.
Now that he put it out there, he wants this, me, badly .
That gives me the courage to sprawl out over the couch, remove my leggings so they live to see another day, and slide my panties down my legs.