Page 20 of Between Love and Loathing
“It won’t be the same, then.”
“It’ll be mine though, and that should be enough.” She quickly removed it from the heat and set it on the other burner, but she didn’t step away from me. She met me with that burning gaze again. “I’m trying to prove thatmineis enough here.”
“And yet you let Rita run right over you for this bakery.”
“I was trying to be ‘harmonious’ with your needs,” she shot back.
“Ah. So sweet of you, Clara.” That never worked if it was a designer’s vision. “But, tell me, was it ‘harmonious’ when you called my resort a sterile hospital?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, I apologize for that—”
“Don’t.” My command cut through the air. She needed to learn something now and consciously pick a side. I leaned in, close enough to have my lips against her ear. “Are you sweet or spicy, babe? A pushover or a fighter?” I pulled back when she didn’t answer right away. Her gaze glinted with embarrassment or anger or both. “Should we see? You as sweet as this chocolate or not?”
I was pushing her to the edge. I knew that. Maybe I wanted her to fold and step away. She needed to.
She needed to understand her place, but instead she stepped up to me and reached into the saucepan, swiping up melted chocolate on her finger and then dragging it across her collarbone. “I don’t know, Dominic.” She whispered, “Want to taste me and see?”
A challenge for a challenge. She met me head-on.
So, I guess the fighter in Clara didn’t know when to quit. She’d met a formidable match, too, because I didn’t even hesitate. I should have, but I’d had a hell of a day with structural problems and calls from overseas about another project. The last straw was listening to her tear apart the blood, sweat, and tears that went into designing and managing this resort.
Truth was it shouldn’t have just been me. I had a whole team of restaurateurs, designers, financial advisors, HR, and every other possible person needed. Yet, I wanted my hands in everything. A person didn’t get their perfection without doing it themselves.
I grabbed her neck and pushed her chin up so I could get better access to that sensitive part of her body. She shuddered when my tongue dragged across her collarbone and then my teeth. I wouldn’t be gentle. When I shoved her against the counter and gripped her hip to lift her by her neck and thigh, she went willingly, wrapping her arms around my neck and spreading her legs for me to walk in between.
I didn’t take my mouth from her neck. I couldn’t. Her skin was smoother than the ribbons of chocolate, supple and full as I explored further down toward her breasts. Her hands were in my hair, pulling everywhere as she moaned that she needed this, that she wanted one more second.
“One second? Is that all you give your friend Noah?” I shook my head and she gasped at feeling my scruff against her soft skin. “I get more than that, Clara. I want to take my time tasting just to make sure I have it right.”
“Wh-what? You just did.”
I brought my thumb from her neck up to trace her lower lip, so plump and swollen, showing me she’d been biting it as I sucked on that neck of hers. I held her gaze as I shoved her dress up her thighs, higher and higher. The air in the room crackled with silent tension, and even though the lighting was dim, she vibrated with a bright electricity I couldn’t look away from.
I’d ruin someone like her, and the idea of it had my cock rock hard against her stomach as my hand reached the lace under her dress. “When I said I wanted to taste you, I didn’t mean your neck, baby. Or these fuckable lips.”
I pushed the lace to the side and found her drenched for me. She gasped at how fast I found her clit, how I didn’t hesitate to pinch it as I brought my other hand back around her throat and pushed her down so her back was flat against the stainless steel of her gourmet prep island. It gave me easy access to her pussy, to play and taste to my heart’s content.
“I meant I wanted to taste you here.” I slid one finger into her as I continued to work her clit. I loved how her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head, how her whole body arched at my touch. But I wanted more.
I wanted her to remember this—remember that the bakery and resort she’d called sterile could be dirtied up, that I could indulge, and I would right here and now when it came to her. But I made the rules. I’d bring indulgence here when it was needed. Tonight, it was.
I got on my knees, wanting the smell of her around me, her arousal to coat my face, to have her understand that I owned her here and not the other way around.
My tongue dragged against her slit, and she whimpered, “Dominic, please.”
“Spread your legs wider, baby. I want full access. This is mine now. Mine to taste over and over.”
She didn’t fight me. Her thighs moved like her body belonged to me, and I smiled into my pussy. It was mine. All mine. I became intoxicated, drunk on it and not the whiskey I’d already had that night. I was high on the smell of her, ravenous for the taste of her, and vicious in my pursuit of stealing that orgasm. I sucked on her clit as I felt her body tightening. It was like she wanted to hit her high, but she wanted to fight it, too.
My little fighter. “Let go, baby.” She started to work her hips faster and faster, but I knew she was still holding back as I looked up and saw her biting her lip. I pulled back to push a finger into her and she moaned. “That’s it. You’re going to give me all of you. I want to taste your orgasm on my lips, Clara. Ride my face like you fucking need it.” She whimpered when I lowered my mouth to her again and thrust my tongue into her pussy.
Damn, did she move those hips like she’d been instructed to.
Her grip on my hair grew more and more intense as her thighs tightened around my face like she could pull me closer, like I didn’t already have my head buried as far into her as I could.
She tasted sweet and like she was mine. I pinched and rolled her clit so I was the one that pushed her over the edge, even if she was riding my face.
Her whole body clenched as she murmured, “Fuck.” The swear sounded sweet on her lips before she screamed my name. The whole thing. Not just Dom or Dominic, but Dominic Hardy.And the raspy sound was purely sexual, filled with passion and surrender.
