Page 25

I hiss at the contact when his palms glide over me. A welcome feeling, especially when one hand stays on my lower back and the other moves to my core, his fingers finally finding the hole I’ve almost begged from him to sink into before.

“Oh baby, you’re soaked. Fuck, I’d give anything to go bare inside you and feel all this wetness around my cock.”

I bite my lower lip, hard. For some insane reason, I want that, too, but I keep my lips sealed from telling him to do just that.

We barely know each other. And despite the fuzziness he causes in my brain, nothing can get me that unfocused to chance a pregnancy or an STD with someone just because he has a hot body and a chiseled jaw that could cut glass.

His jaw is better than Superman’s, and we all know that man is fine as hell.

For a second, I whine at the loss of his fingers till he pushes every part of himself into me.

“Fuuuck.” I say it on a harsh breath and pant through his size.

He’s big. Fucking huge. Fuck. I can’t think anything else.

It doesn’t hurt, but I don’t know if I would call this comfortable.

I just can’t breathe. It’s like someone punched me over and over again.

No pain, just the feeling of not being able to catch my breath enough to do more than just pant.

“Shhh,” he says as one hand rubs my spine up and down while the other taps a pattern against my hip as if he’s a one-handed piano player. “Breathe.” He nudges my feet wider, and I sink lower on his cock. It pulls a whimper from me and a groan from him .

“Get there, babe. I can’t hold out much longer. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t tell me soon that you’re good, I’m going to start fucking you before you’re ready.”

“You get there. I have a fucking baseball bat in my cunt. Try it and see how you like it,” I sass back as I lower my head and rest it on my hands.

He chuckles. “Baseball bat, huh? Nice. Never had anyone call it that before.”

“I’m sure it’s because you killed them with it and they couldn’t talk.”

“Or maybe—” He leans over me and gets right by my ear. “—they didn’t take it like a bitch.”

I whip my head to my left and snap my teeth at him. He jerks back to avoid my bite and moves that glorious hammer of his between my legs in a way that sends all the pleasure through me.

I moan so long, I swear it becomes a word.

A simple one. A plea for more. And he does.

Slowly. Pulling out and then pushing in with a pace some might say is slower than a snail, but it’s what I need, and he must get it because he doesn’t rush it.

Even with the subtle movement, I’m getting wetter with each glide.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pace increases.

I can’t find it in me to push back against him till his fingers find my magic button and I buck like a freaking horse.

He holds tight and keeps flicking my clit, and I can’t do anything but move my body.

It’s what I need to pull myself out of my head, shifting the focus from his size to the pleasure his entire body is bringing me .

I whimper and let out a soft cry when his hand moves higher on my stomach, using it as leverage to hold me.

But instead of begging him to come back, I push off against the door with one hand and trail the other over his till I hit my spot and start up where he left off.

It’s not as good—the guy has seriously magic hands—but I know what I’m doing.

And the more I do it, the more I move back against him and seek the monster ramming me.

“That’s it, babe. Fuck my dick. Jesus, you’re wetter each time I slip in. Fucking hell, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

I smile at his words, but I should have taken them as a warning.

It’s his way of saying I need to come, and to do it now.

But he doesn’t voice it. Oh no. He just speeds up to freaking lightning pace and fucks me so fast I lose my breath again.

Then he’s pushing my hand away and replacing my fingers with his while his other hand goes under my shirt and over my bra, locating my nipple.

He pinches it and then my clit as he bends over and bites my neck, and I scream. Legit scream. Then explode.

White spots cloud any vision I had in this dark room. I am nothing but a prisoner to my release and just let him rut inside me till he stills and groans through his own. Only then does he let up on the pinches and bite, soothing my body with soft kisses and slow pets.

“Fuck.”

“Think we just did that,” he says as he rises and pulls his cock out of me. This time I squeak at the removal, but I don’t know if it’s in protest or relief.

“Fuck you,” I pant as I lay my head against the door and just breathe through it all.

I’m sure I’d look a sight if a light was on, but right now I couldn’t give two shits about it.

I’ve never been fucked in a closet before.

And never like that. I’m having a moment.

Everyone and everything can screw off for a bit.

“If that’s an invitation for another round, I’m all in. Just let’s do it on the bed next time. Holding your ass up is a workout.”

I stand and spin to punch him in the face, but he catches my fist with ease and pushes it over my head to the door before he backs my bare ass against it and kisses me.

I should fight him off, but hell, his lips are amazing.

Everything about him is. I must be drunk or something, or just coming out of a very long drought, but I swear everything Domino is doing is just right.

His words are teasing, but I only get that after I give him the reaction he wants.

And I like him all the more for it. He makes me fight with him, and in a way, that works for both of us.

And hell if the rewards aren’t worth it.

He nips at my lip before lowering to his knees and pulling first my panties, then my pants back up.

I’m wet, my release still dripping down my thigh, but I can live with it.

The glide of silk up my legs sends a shiver through me, especially when he puts them in place and then brushes his thumb over my clit, twice, forcing me to huff out a breath.

The man is aiming for sainthood or something, because he even redoes all the buttons on my jeans.

But I have to think it’s more to torture me with the possibility of a second round, as his knuckles seem to find my clit on repeat, digging in and rubbing along it.

By the time my clothes are situated, I’m a second away from coming again. But the evil bastard steps back.

I could reach out and drag him to me, but he’s right.

The second round really should be somewhere softer.

Preferably with me on top so I can get mine and then some before I let him come again.

After all, I was never known for being the nice girl.

Summer might say I need a nice guy, but make no mistake—I’m the bad girl in all of this.

I might even let him call me naughty… if he plays his cards right.