Page 29 of Where He Ended

At this point I can't hold still. I'm rocking on his lap, too turned on to make my muscles obey me. “What if someone hears us?” I asked nervously.

“It doesn't matter. But I hope they do hear us. It means I'm doing a good job.” His palm flattens over my stomach, fingertips digging in possessively. My arms are tangled in my sleeves and he clasps them in one hand behind my back, pinning them. I'm trapped; he can do anything he wants to me. That idea drives nails of excitement into my veins.

“Please,” I whimper. “I really don't want anyone to hear us.”

“That's a problem,” he murmurs. His fingers slip between the top of my pants and my skin. “Because I want everyone in the world to hear the proof that you belong to me. I want them to hear the beautiful song you sing when I make you come.” His fingers move lower and his voice goes with it. “But the power is in your hands. Try not to make a sound, we'll see who wins.”

I can feel my juice pooling in my panties. I know I'm soaked before he dips his middle finger into my crease, touching my molten heat and confirming it for both of us.

“Ah,” I hiss in delight.

“You're so wet,” he whispers, and I feel his cock flex against me. When I'm turned on, he's turned on even more. His fingers move against my lower lips, tracing up and down; he spreads me open, setting a fingertip on top of my plump, eager clit. He presses, making fast, firm motions. He has full access to my body with how he's spread me open and pinned me against him.

Dominic shifts on the bed, driving his hips upwards. It doesn't matter that I'm in pants and he's in his underwear; I can feel his searing, rigid length as it rubs along my ass cheeks. I breathe heavier. His pace is consistent, like this isn't driving him wild. I know it must be; I can feel his heart beating radically through my back.

His long fingers slide until he inserts them inside of me a mere inch. “You're twitching,” he says. “Fuck, it's crazy hot how excited you get for me.”

My pussy hugs his fingers, desperate for anything to fill it. “More,” I beg.

His chuckle is full of dark satisfaction. “I thought you'd fight longer, it's fun to watch you break down. Are you going to keep pretending that you weren't hoping for this to happen?”

I don't answer at first. He withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty. I whine plaintively. “No, don't stop!”

He places his hand on top of my pussy again. “Then stop playing games and tell me the truth. Isn't that what you're all about? The truth?”

“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. I wriggle on his lap, trying to rub myself against his hand, but he withdraws so that I can't create any pressure. I moan in frustration. “Yes, I was hoping you would be awake, and it crossed my mind that if you were, something like this might happen. But it really wasn't the main reason I came here.”

“Stop pretending it was the damn jacket.”

“No, it wasn't the jacket, forget about the jacket.” My whole body is burning up, a sensation in my blood like an itch that needs to be scratched but can't be reached. I'm so turned on and I want to come, and he can give it to me, but he won't. “Touch me, Dominic, please. Rub me off. I need to come so bad!”

“Fuck,” he says in my ear. He might know how to drive me crazy, but I'm learning how to manipulate him, too. He likes when I tell him that he's making me feel good.

His fingers come down on either side of my clit, creating a V shape. He pushes his fingers together, lightly pinching my sensitive clitoris. The sensation is fantastic; lightning moves through me, creating an incredible pressure in my lower belly. My orgasm is so close, so fucking close. If he just keeps touching me I'll get there.

“What was the real reason?” he growls.

“What?” I ask, too distracted by the orgasm that's just out of reach.

He fingers me again, siding all the way in to his knuckles and I cry out. “You said there was a real reason, and it wasn't this, so just what was it then?”

I'm trembling all over, my muscles tensing. I can't answer him. My body is giving one hundred percent to reaching climax. He spreads his fingers open in me, then crosses them like he's making a promise. He thrusts them once, twice, and then with the side of his hand he manages to rub my clit at the same time as he's fingering me. His hands are big enough to achieve it.

As I marvel at that fact, I tip over the edge into a free fall towards orgasm. “Fuck, yes!” I shout, shaking violently in his lap. My pussy clings to his fingers. He pistons them, ratcheting up the orgasm by giving me something to chew on. It feels so much better coming with something inside of me, even better because it belongs to him.

Ibelong to him.

The strange thought is pushed aside. I'm not ready to think that way, but for a brief second, it turns me on anew. I'm still shaking, his fingers inside of me, when he puts his nose to my cheek and sighs. “Tell me the reason you came here tonight.”

“Because I didn't want to be alone,” I say. I realize what I've just said. It slipped out of me before I could stop it. Now my honesty floats between us in the open air.

Dominic goes still, not speaking, not moving. He pries his fingers free and I gasp. “You wanted to be with me, not for sex, but my company?” he asks, sounding doubtful. He releases my arms. My shoulders ache—I hadn't realizes how roughly he was gripping me. Discomfort is meaningless when I'm lit up from the inside out with pleasure.

I swing my legs over, standing between his knees and facing him. I'm barely taller than him when he's sitting on the bed. My hands settle on his knees. “I know in my gut that you want to keep me safe. You've done it again and again, protecting me like no one else ever has. Not even my own father.”

“Your father,” he whispers. He shakes his head, looking me in the eye. I'm not sure what he searching for, but when he wraps his hands in my hair and pulls me to him for a kiss, I think he found it.

My fingers rest on his shoulders, exploring his different wedges of muscles, the inked wordFaiththat I can read as if it’s brail. I back away so that I can look at him, touching the tattoos on his body, marveling at how the feathers can look so real and still be flat as skin. I keep expecting them to be textured, three-dimensional.

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