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Authors: Nikki Sloane
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swollen and bluish, and the added day’s worth of stubble covering his strong jawline and the dark look made this handsome man appear dangerous. Hotter than the leather seats of my Jaguar in August.
He harmlessly slapped my hand away when it tried to grip him through his boxers, and he raised an eyebrow, challenging me to try again. My next attempt was just as unsuccessful and a wicked smile warmed on my face. I pretended to lead with my right, and while he was occupied with that, my left closed around him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands wrapping around my wrists and slamming them up above my head, pinning them to the mattress. It forced him over me, bringing us chest to hard chest. My nipples tightened. Legs settled around his hips, drawing him up against me. Could he feel how wet he’d made me with those thin boxers on?
His head dropped down, bringing his lips beside my ear. “Slow, Payton.”
I blew out a frustrated breath when his mouth brushed over my sensitive skin. I’d never had this before. Outside of the club, I was always the one in charge. Guys were too turned on, too lazy, or lacked the balls to take control away from me.
Not this one. His tongue slid down my neck, his hot breath cool in its trail. Dominic had given me the smallest peek at his dominant side at the club, and I could tell the more comfortable he became with me, the more likely it was to come out and play.
“I lied before, when I said I can go slow,” I said.
He sort of laughed, his face in the valley between my tits. “Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way.” He rolled his tongue on my nipple, then scraped his teeth over it. Right on the knife’s edge of painful and pleasurable. My legs clamped tighter on his hips, urging him to grind on me.
Instead, he pulled away and back on his knees so he was kneeling between my spread legs, his gaze wandering down my bare body as if assessing me. The hands on my wrists were gone, and he grabbed the ice bucket, setting it beside me, then stuck his hand in.
Was he getting some ice to tease me with?
“Touch yourself,” he said. It came out almost as an order. “I want to watch you play with that pretty little pussy.”
His hand never moved from the ice bucket. My right hand did as requested and my eyes stayed on his. Watching his face flood with heat when I circled my clit was almost as enjoyable as the sensation of my fingers rolling on the wet button of flesh.
He watched, his gaze intent on my hand moving back and forth, until I let out a soft moan. Only the gleam in his eyes a fraction before he moved let me know something was up. He yanked my right hand away, once again pinning it beneath his hold.
“Use your other hand,” he said. “That should slow you down.”
My mouth went slack. I wasn’t left handed. It was awkward as hell using my non-dominant hand, and frustrating, too. It felt good, but not as good as I knew it could. “Aren’t you an evil fucking genius?” I accused.
The ice in the bucket sloshed when he pulled his hand out, his skin pink from the cold water. It stole all the breath from my lungs when one of those icy fingers plunged deep inside me. My back bowed up off the mattress and I threw my head back, too startled to make a noise.
“You like that?” His rough voice. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to come from his words, but right now it was probably going to be from the shockingly cold finger fucking me.
“Shit, it feels so good,” I said when I finally found my voice.
He moved at a leisurely pace while my fingers fumbled over my flesh, desperate to get my release. My right hand tried to escape his grip. It’d be so much faster that way . . .
“Dominic.” My hips moved in time with his slow thrusts, begging him without words, but then my words began too. “Please.”
“Please what? You want another, or you want your hand back?”
The fucked up thing was I didn’t even know. “Yes.”
He made a noise of amusement. He thought this was
He harmlessly slapped my hand away when it tried to grip him through his boxers, and he raised an eyebrow, challenging me to try again. My next attempt was just as unsuccessful and a wicked smile warmed on my face. I pretended to lead with my right, and while he was occupied with that, my left closed around him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands wrapping around my wrists and slamming them up above my head, pinning them to the mattress. It forced him over me, bringing us chest to hard chest. My nipples tightened. Legs settled around his hips, drawing him up against me. Could he feel how wet he’d made me with those thin boxers on?
His head dropped down, bringing his lips beside my ear. “Slow, Payton.”
I blew out a frustrated breath when his mouth brushed over my sensitive skin. I’d never had this before. Outside of the club, I was always the one in charge. Guys were too turned on, too lazy, or lacked the balls to take control away from me.
Not this one. His tongue slid down my neck, his hot breath cool in its trail. Dominic had given me the smallest peek at his dominant side at the club, and I could tell the more comfortable he became with me, the more likely it was to come out and play.
“I lied before, when I said I can go slow,” I said.
He sort of laughed, his face in the valley between my tits. “Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way.” He rolled his tongue on my nipple, then scraped his teeth over it. Right on the knife’s edge of painful and pleasurable. My legs clamped tighter on his hips, urging him to grind on me.
Instead, he pulled away and back on his knees so he was kneeling between my spread legs, his gaze wandering down my bare body as if assessing me. The hands on my wrists were gone, and he grabbed the ice bucket, setting it beside me, then stuck his hand in.
Was he getting some ice to tease me with?
“Touch yourself,” he said. It came out almost as an order. “I want to watch you play with that pretty little pussy.”
His hand never moved from the ice bucket. My right hand did as requested and my eyes stayed on his. Watching his face flood with heat when I circled my clit was almost as enjoyable as the sensation of my fingers rolling on the wet button of flesh.
He watched, his gaze intent on my hand moving back and forth, until I let out a soft moan. Only the gleam in his eyes a fraction before he moved let me know something was up. He yanked my right hand away, once again pinning it beneath his hold.
“Use your other hand,” he said. “That should slow you down.”
My mouth went slack. I wasn’t left handed. It was awkward as hell using my non-dominant hand, and frustrating, too. It felt good, but not as good as I knew it could. “Aren’t you an evil fucking genius?” I accused.
The ice in the bucket sloshed when he pulled his hand out, his skin pink from the cold water. It stole all the breath from my lungs when one of those icy fingers plunged deep inside me. My back bowed up off the mattress and I threw my head back, too startled to make a noise.
“You like that?” His rough voice. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to come from his words, but right now it was probably going to be from the shockingly cold finger fucking me.
“Shit, it feels so good,” I said when I finally found my voice.
He moved at a leisurely pace while my fingers fumbled over my flesh, desperate to get my release. My right hand tried to escape his grip. It’d be so much faster that way . . .
“Dominic.” My hips moved in time with his slow thrusts, begging him without words, but then my words began too. “Please.”
“Please what? You want another, or you want your hand back?”
The fucked up thing was I didn’t even know. “Yes.”
He made a noise of amusement. He thought this was
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