Page 118 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

“We have to be thorough,” he murmured in my ear before giving it a tender bite. His fingers crept over my inner thigh, and I whimpered as they invaded my slick center, exploring. “You’re going to ruin your underwear if we don’t wash this all off first.”

My head hit his shoulder, my teeth clenching as the pleasure started to stack on top of itself.

“Spread your legs all the way,” Dominic commanded. “Feet up on the bench.” Then, more to himself than me, “I’m going to have a mirror installed in here tomorrow.”

My thighs shook as I widened them, and had he not helped pull my feet up, I’d never have managed to brace them on the bench like he wanted.

The water turned off, and I whimpered when his fingers probed me, inspecting. “Still dripping,” he chided. “Do try to control your urges, Miss Cloutier. Otherwise, we’ll be here all day.”

The water turned on again, and I folded over before he grabbed me and pulled me back. One pinch of my nipple and I choked out a shattered moan. The pleasure built and built and built. And just as I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, the pressure shut off again.

“Let’s see…” Ignoring the trembling ball of nerves whose carnal needs I was currently enslaved by, Dominic invaded my pulsating core with a thick middle finger, pushing it all the way in.

“Oh my god,” I gasped.

The finger was dripping when he retrieved it. He tutted with disappointment. “This won’t do. The water isn’t enough. Stand up.”

I licked at my parched lips. “Isn’t it supposed to be me giving the orders?”

His lips twitched. “I have a job to do, Miss Cloutier, and I take it very seriously.” He gripped my hips and lifted me off his lap. “Bend forward and brace your hands on the wall.”

Again, wasn’t it supposed to bemetellinghimwhat to do?

Half smiling, I followed his instructions, allowing him to guide my unsteady knees an extra inch apart.

“Good.”

I’d bent low enough that I could see his lower body when I dropped my head. I watched, fascinated, as he gripped his hefty length, stroking it twice before his palm rolled over the leakinghead. His breath stuttered, and then he was touching me, using his other hand to spread me open for his viewing pleasure.

“The number of times I’ve imagined this exact scenario… How the fuck are you this pretty, Alice? How am I supposed to get anything else done ever fucking again?”

My fingers curled against the wall. There was a joke in there somewhere about how he’d spent the last two weeks neglecting his job, but he leaned in and kissed my center before I could find it.

It was a sweet, chaste press of his plush lips that lasted less than a second. Yet it still somehow made my joints crumple.

“I change my mind,” he muttered, squeezing his shaft as I fought for air. His tongue darted out to give me a little lick, and I almost lost my balance. “Two weeks isn’t enough. Let’s make it a full month.”

A brittle laugh scraped out of my lungs. “We can still have sex if you’re not my butler.”

“Yes, but it’ll be easier to warm you up to the insatiable, gluttonous monster I am if you’re initially under the impression that the reason I’m spending eight hours a day with my tongue stuffed inside your pussy is because I’ve technically made it my job. Otherwise, I’m going to scare you off.” He rolled his fist over his crown again. “Don’t get it twisted, Alice. My motivations are mostly selfish. There isn’t much I wouldn’t give to spend twenty-four hours a day with you. Even if you didn’t want me to touch you. Even if all you wanted to do was talk or sit in silence. I’d hand you the keys to my house if you asked for it.”

I was going to fall.

My legs were quivering, struggling to hold me up as the affection and lust threatened to drown me.

“Speaking of,” he muttered, “you want to know another secret?”

I choked out a “yes,” locking my knees so I wouldn’t crumble to the floor.

“I accidentally built that thing just for you.”

“What?” What the hell did that mean?

“It was almost done by the time I realized what I was even doing.” Another small lick. “I’d hired your favorite architect… implemented every little architectural detail you’d ever gushed over when we’d traveled… every small dream-house wish you’d mentioned in passing…”

My mind started to race, but it felt a little like revving an engine when the wheels weren’t touching the ground. My thoughts were spinning, going nowhere fast.

“Roman-style baths… French windows and doors… Italian Juliet balconies… Spanish fountains… apparently, I’d spent a lifetime keeping a mental list for you.”