Dom X - The Complete Box Set: Alpha Male Romance (22 page)

W
hen I was with Tanner
, I thought we'd had plenty of passionate moments, but I never realized that while we'd enjoyed vigorous, energetic sex, it hadn't been passionate. In fact, I'd never known what the word
passion
meant until the moment X kissed me. I felt it all. His pain. His desire. The sheer
need
.

Then his arms were around me, pulling me against his body. This was the moment, I knew, where I had to decide whether or not to pull away, or give in to what I was feeling.

I allowed myself a moment to think, even as my arms were wrapping around X's neck. I wanted to comfort him, but if I allowed this to happen between us, I needed to make sure I was doing it for the right reasons. I wanted to take care of him, but not because I felt sorry for him. I wanted to take care of him because I'd done what I knew I wasn't supposed to do.

I'd fallen for him.

I didn't tell him that, not in words, because I didn't know the words to say. Plus, I didn't think he wanted to have the sort of conversation that kind of confession would prompt.

So I showed him.

I parted my lips and his arms tightened around me in response. I drew his tongue into my mouth even as I ran my fingers through his hair. I wanted to touch him all over, explore every inch of his body, but I held back. I knew where I wanted this to go, and I wasn't really worried about taking advantage of him, but I would follow his lead. I wanted him, but I also wanted him to take what he needed from me.

He took my bottom lip between his teeth and a jolt of desire went straight through me. The pressure was sharp, just this side of painful, and I wanted more. I moaned, scraping my nails across his scalp. He made a sound that was almost a growl, then dropped his hands to cup my ass. When he started to pick me up, I hesitated for only a moment before working with him and wrapping my legs around his waist. I had to trust that he knew himself well enough to know that he could lift me.

I wasn't surprised to find myself, less than a minute later, in X's bedroom. He'd kept what I assumed was military neatness. No clutter on the floor, or anywhere else for that matter. His bed was made, sheets barely wrinkled at all. The entire thing was done in warm colors, though I suspected that was more of Father O'Toole's doing than X's choice.

His hands slid up my back, one settling at the base of my spine, the other moving up to the zipper at the back of my dress. There was no hesitation as he pulled it down, then traced his fingers down my spine.

I shivered, the heat from his touch coursing through me. My hands slid around to his chest and I began to seriously second-guess my decision to only follow his lead.

I
really
wanted him naked.

Like now.

Then he was pushing my dress off my shoulders and second-guessing changed to completely changing my mind. I yanked on the hem of his shirt, but he pulled back and grabbed my wrists.

“No.”

His eyes were dark, the expression on his face making things low inside me twist and pulse. Even as much as I knew Tanner had loved me and been aroused by me, I'd never had anyone look at me that way before.

“I want you,” he said, his voice low, but definitely not soft. No, it was rough. The sort of rough that rubs in all the right places.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. X's fingers curled into fists as I dropped the black lace onto the floor. Some men preferred skinny girls with small breasts. I was neither skinny nor small, but judging by the way X was staring at me, he apparently wasn't one of them.

“On the bed.”

I did as I was told, settling myself in the middle of the large mattress. He watched me with that intense stare of his, the one that made me want to squirm or tell him off. Maybe both.

Despite his injuries, X still exuded grace and strength. As he walked over to the bed, I saw something new. Well, not new exactly, but something I'd only seen in bits or in potential.

Power.

My pulse began to race as X leaned over me and hooked his fingers under the waistband of my panties. When I dressed for tonight, I hadn't expected to have anyone see what I'd put on under the dress, but, at least, the black lace matching set was one of the nicer pairs I owned.

Though based on the way X threw it over his shoulder without a second glance told me that he was less interested in the panties and more in what was under them.

Then he was parting my legs and stretching out on the bed. His fingers dug into my hips as he held me in place. I didn't have time to question why he was holding me so tight because his mouth was on me and I knew the answer.

I cried out, grabbing the sheets as X's tongue moved over and in me. He knew all the right places to touch, the right pressure to apply. He didn't hold back, and he wasn't teasing like Tanner sometimes had. His hair tickled the inside of my thighs, adding to the sensation racing along my nerves. I writhed and squirmed, torn between wanting him to stop and wanting more friction. Something harder, deeper, something to fill and complete me.

I swore as he pushed two fingers inside me. It was almost too much all at once. And then he was curling his fingers, pressing against my g-spot until my orgasm burst over me hard and fast. He rubbed that spot until he coaxed a second climax from me, and I was a quivering mess.

When I finally managed to open my eyes again, X was on his knees, a condom in his hand as he looked down at me. He'd left his shirt on, but his pants and underwear had, at some point, joined my clothes on the floor. I didn't comment on why he hadn't taken off his shirt. I knew why. He trusted me in some sense, but he still didn't want to let me see or touch him like this.

As much as I wanted to reassure him, wanted to see all of him, I didn't press the issue. What was happening between us was fragile, and I knew that the wrong word or move could spoil it.

Instead, I focused on the parts of him I could see. The tight muscles in his thighs. His narrow hips. And his cock, thick and full. I'd seen him soft before, the most recent of which hadn't even been in the hospital. Whenever I thought of his naked body – and it was far more often than I was comfortable with – it'd been of him walking out of the bathroom the day I first arrived.

He was attractive then, of course, but nothing compared to the way he looked now. It wasn't because his wounds had healed more, or because I'd become used to his scars. It was the confidence he exuded. The knowledge I could see on his face, him knowing that I wanted him.

Our eyes locked as he rolled the condom over his erection. Part of me wanted to watch, but I couldn't look away from his gaze. Neither one of us spoke as he leaned over me, propping himself up on one arm while using his other hand to position himself. I couldn't stop the slight exhalation when I felt the tip of him brush against me. Something flared in his eyes at the sound, and then he was pushing into me.

He didn't move fast, or pause and let me get used to him, to how different he felt inside me. Instead, he was relentless, moving forward inch by inch until he was finally all the way in. He stayed there, the small, slight movements of his hips sending little ripples of pleasure through me.

I ran my hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck. “Can I take off your shirt?” I whispered the question, the need to see him, touch him, almost overwhelming.

He shook his head. He made a short, shallow thrust and I gasped.

Damn, that felt good.

“I've already seen you,” I remind him. My hands run down his back and start to slip under his shirt.

“No.”

The word was sharp and I yanked my hands back, sure I'd just ruined everything.

“You touch where and when I say you can touch.” He held himself up with one arm and grabbed my wrists with his other hand. His fingers almost wrapped completely around both wrists as he pulled my arms up above my head.

A shiver ran through me as he pinned my hands to the bed. I knew he was strong, but there was a huge difference between knowing it and experiencing it. Just like there was a difference between knowing X would make a great Dom, and experiencing it firsthand.

“Okay,” I breathed the agreement. Anything as long as he didn't leave. My entire body was pulsing with need. The orgasms I'd already had hadn't sated me, only whetted my appetite. I wanted him completely.

Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before driving himself back in. Each thrust made me whimper as he hit that place deep inside me, sending sparks of pain and pleasure racing through me.

Tanner had once asked me to describe what it felt like, and the closest I'd ever been able to get was to say it felt like grabbing one of those electric fences that farmers use for livestock. Like my entire body was a conduit for the sort of electricity that could only happen when two bodies came together. No matter how quickly I could make myself come alone, it was never the same as it was with a man inside me.

X leaned harder on my wrists for balance as he ran his other hand up my side to cup my breast. His thumb teased my nipple into a hard point and I arched up into him. I felt the restraint in his touch, felt how much he was holding back.

I didn't want him to hold back.

When his mouth came down on mine again, I kissed him back hungrily, desperate to show him that he didn't need to be careful with me. I bit at his lips, sucked hard on his tongue, my arms struggling to get free so I could run my hands through his hair, dig my nails into his shoulders and back.

With a growl, X raised his head. His eyes were burning, his gaze searching for something on my face. When he drove into me this time, it was harder than before, and I cried out. I understood it then. He was watching me to see what I wanted.

“Again.” I meant for the word to come out as a demand, but it was a plea instead.

One, apparently, that he was more than willing to fulfill. There was no hesitation on the next stroke, only the wonderful sensation of being suddenly and completely full. I raised my hips to meet him thrust for thrust, forcing him as deep as he could go. His grip on my wrists was almost too much, and I had a feeling I'd end up with bruises tomorrow, but I didn't care. This was what I wanted from him. What I needed. The edge that I'd been craving.

Neither of us said a word as we pushed ourselves toward the edge. The room was full of harsh breathing, skin against skin, my own whimpers and moans, but no words. We didn't say each other's names or make declarations that we knew we couldn't keep. I didn't know what this was between us or what it would mean, but I didn't want any of that to get in the way of what was happening. I'd worry about the rest later. Right now, all that mattered was the man above me.

Tension was coiling tight in my body, and I knew I was close. It'd take only a little bit to push me over. I could feel his muscles tensing, feel him fighting his body to put off the inevitable. I understood the feeling. I didn't want this to end. As much as I wanted to come, I wanted us to be able to stay like this more.

He pressed his face against the crook of my neck, his body pressing down against mine as his thrusts became more erratic. The cotton of his t-shirt rubbed against my already sensitive nipples and the change of position made him press on my clit at just the right angle. Then his teeth were pulling at the skin at the base of my throat, worrying and sucking until I knew he'd left a mark.

Pleasure washed over me as I came again. I clenched down on his cock and felt him groan more than I heard it. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him to me as he came. His entire body shuddered and he finally released my hands. I didn't try to touch any of the scarred skin within my reach, but I did put my arms around him, the pinpricks of rushing blood making me shiver. My fingers were almost numb, but I didn't care. I just held him tight and prayed that he'd found some solace in me.

I
didn't remember falling
asleep other than the fleeting thought that I should probably go back to my own bed. But I'd been so comfortable, my muscles limp and relaxed, my pussy throbbing pleasantly. And X's arms around me.

One of the things I'd always loved about my relationship with Tanner had been how safe he'd made me feel. Even before Logan died, my parents hadn't been the most protective. My brother was the person who'd taken care of me. Then I'd had only myself to rely on until I'd met Tanner. While X and he were two totally different people, I did feel that similarity. The feeling that nothing bad could happen to me while I was with him.

I slept solid through, not waking until I felt X moving. Even then, I let consciousness come slowly. A part of me already knew that waking up would mean having to face what I'd done. X and I would need to talk about it, about what it meant, if it changed things between us.

I didn't want to have that talk.

X had been hurting last night, but there'd been no taking advantage. It had been comfort...and maybe something more. I just didn't know if the
something more
was what X wanted. I still had some conflicting emotions about how appropriate my feelings were, but I wasn't denying their existence anymore. I couldn't. They were too strong. Too much right in front of me.

Now came the fear that X didn't feel the same way. After he kissed me that first time, he said he'd only done it because it'd been a long time since he was with anyone. I'd been convenient.

Had last night been the same thing? Had he needed the distraction from the pain of his loss and I was in the right place at the right time? I didn't want to believe that X would do something like that, especially since he'd seemed so upset about a simple kiss before. Would he have really used me that way? Then again, if he didn't know how I felt, would it have really been using me? For all I knew, he'd assumed I was upset about what happened with Tanner and we'd been equally eager to forget about a bad night.

I supposed that was the best way things could turn out, with me hiding how I really felt and just going along with whatever excuse X gave. I didn't really want to do that – I wanted him to feel the same way, wanted this to be the beginning of something more than what we had – but I'd accept it if I had to.

The bed dipped and his body heat was gone. I heard him rummaging around in his dresser, then the bedroom door opening. I heard another door closed and assumed he'd gone into the bathroom.

I rolled onto my back, taking the blanket with me to cover myself. I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. I didn't know what to do. Leave now while he was in the bathroom. Go upstairs to my own, take the time to shower and get my head together before coming back downstairs for the inevitable talk.

Or would he come back from the bathroom, see I was gone and assume that I regretted what we'd done? I didn't want to hurt him like that. If there was any chance he felt what I did, I didn't want to risk losing that on a misunderstanding.

So I stayed. I closed my eyes and tried to think of the best way to approach things, all the while keeping my ears straining for any sound of his return. When I finally heard the bathroom door shut, I waited a few seconds and then rolled onto my side to face the door. I opened my eyes so I could see when X walked back in.

When the door opened, I couldn't hide my surprise. I'd assumed when he came out of the bathroom, he'd be in a towel, maybe a pair of shorts. Instead, he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. In July. Granted, the air conditioning in the house made it cool enough inside, but it was far from sweatshirt weather. Going on the fact that he had the hood pulled up, I was willing to bet X's attire had little to do with whether or not he was cold.

“X.” I pushed myself up into a sitting position, my arm automatically coming across my breasts to hold up the blanket. I didn't feel like what was coming was something I wanted to face half-naked, especially not when he was completely dressed.

He didn't say anything as he crossed the room. He bent, picking up something from the floor I couldn't see. When he tossed it toward me, I saw that it was my clothes.

“Get dressed.”

I went cold, every inch of me turning to ice. His voice was hard, but not emotionless. I'd heard him shutting down before, giving in to depression. This wasn't what was happening here. He was upset...with me.

“Are you okay?” I hated that question, especially after a death, but I didn't know any other way to put it. I needed to figure out what was going on with him, with us.

“Just get dressed, Nori.” He refused to look at me. “You don't need to pretend you want to stick around now, okay?”

My stomach churned and I felt like I was going to be sick. I didn't make a move to pull on my clothes, but I did get out of bed. I took the blanket with me, holding it with one arm and my clothes with the other.

“What's going on, X?” I could hear my voice shaking slightly, but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. At least my hands were too full to tremble.

“You got your pity fuck. I don't need you to stick around for some sort of awkward morning-after conversation.”

For a moment, I thought he meant that
I'd
been
his
pity fuck, but then my still sleep-muddled brain caught up with the truth. He thought I'd slept with him because I pitied him.

“That's not what–”

“Save it,” he snapped. “I'm not in the mood to deal with any more shit today.”

My heart twisted. I hated that he was doing this, that he was pushing me away, but I understood it.

Sort of.

“If you don't mind, I have a busy day ahead of me. Body to claim. Funeral to plan. All that.”

I almost went to him, reached out to try to touch him. Offer the comfort of a hand or a hug. But he didn't want that. It was clear he didn't want me anywhere near him. I started toward the door, still dragging his blanket with me. Before I went into the hallway, however, I paused.

“I'm here if you need me.” I barely spoke loud enough for him to hear me and then I went.

I left the blanket on the landing and practically ran up the stairs. I slammed the bedroom door behind me, not caring if X heard. The tears that I'd managed to keep back the short distance between his room and mine came out now, running down my cheeks. I bit my lips to keep from making a sound as I dropped my clothes into the hamper and went into the bathroom. Slamming the door made me seem pissed. Crying made me seem upset. I knew which one would make him feel more guilty and I didn't want that. If he despised the thought of my pity, I felt equally as strong about being on the receiving end of something prompted by guilt.

I turned on the shower, making it as hot as it would go. While I waited a couple minutes for it to heat up, I rubbed at my cheeks. I couldn't let myself get too worked up over this. It wasn't a complete surprise anyway. X had been guarded the entire time I'd known him. He'd proven time and again that he hated being vulnerable.

Last night, we'd both been that way, and I didn't like it any more than he did.

I'd opened myself up to him. Trusted him the way I'd only ever trusted one person in my life before him.

I stepped under the spray and closed my eyes, giving myself over to the tears. They weren't all for myself. Some of them were for Father O'Toole. More for X's loss. And that was what made all of this so much worse than just having slept with someone who didn't care about me or a misunderstanding about why we'd had sex. On top of everything else he was dealing with, X was in mourning.

I tried telling myself that as I washed up. Tried reminding myself that there were extenuating circumstances here. That I just needed to be patient. Once things calmed down a bit, we'd be able to talk about what happened. He'd understand that, despite the circumstances, I wasn’t pitying him, that compassion and sympathy were different. That I would've wanted to have sex with him no matter what happened. That I'd wanted him since before he'd kissed me that first time.

Except some part of me had a sinking feeling that we'd lost the only chance we would have.

And that just made me hurt even more.