All He Needs (All or Nothing) (21 page)

“Deeper,” he grunted, tapping her cheek.

If her mouth weren’t full, she would have sworn at him. On the other hand, if she wanted to feel him inside her soon, if a selfish quid pro quo was on her agenda, she’d do well not to offend. In fact, might he oblige her now if she asked? She began to pull away to do just that when his hand cupped her head, dragged her back, and the broad, smooth head of his dick hit the back of her throat. He exhaled in
a hoarse groan and as his quads gently flexed against her forearms, he breathed, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

His strained expletive echoed hotly in her aching core. She felt her breathing quicken, heard Dominic’s muted groans as he began to move again, and she experienced a small moment of triumph knowing she could do that to him. The ruthless master of the universe was vulnerable after all. She glanced up. His eyes were shut, his hands pressed against the door, his breathing ragged.

Sliding his fingers through her hair, he growled, “Don’t stop,” and forced the rhythm again—half choking her for a second until she grabbed one of his balls in warning. He swore, but his grip loosened. “Watch it, baby.” He spoke in a rasp. “It’s your toy too.” Brushing the pad of his finger over the verge of her upper lip, he watched his dick slide in, dragged in a sharp breath at the fantastic rush, and then guided the motion more benevolently. Slowly in, her mouth warm and wet, her lips tensile slick as she sucked him in, the explosive jolt as the head of his dick prodded the back of her throat, so staggering each time his reflexes were momentarily numbed and he forgot to breathe.
Jesus fuck.
Then he’d come around, start breathing again, restlessly watch his dick slide out of her mouth, and wait for the next incredible head-banger kick.

It was unhurried splendor; Dominic wanted it to last. With both feet in the grave he’d still remember these moments, he thought, his low, muffled grunts calibrating the insane bliss, validating Katherine’s truly fuckable mouth.

Dominic’s deep, guttural intonations, his hoarse pleasure
sounds, reverberated with primal intensity through Kate’s vulnerable senses, wildly provoked and aroused, as if her body were blindly in sync, as if her carnal passions automatically responded to his voiceless grunts, as if on some Darwinian level she was responding to Dominic as dominant male.

Her nipples were tight and hard, the throbbing deep inside audacious, her impatience for him, for sex, frenzied. He had only to exert his authority, insist on obedience, and she yielded with shameless anticipation. As if her body had been trained to recognize his cues, to submit without question, to uncompromisingly please him.

“Stop.” A blunt, grating command, quickly effected, his palms pressing hard against her face, holding her in place, his dick filling her mouth.

Startled, her gaze came up in alarm.

“You okay? I’m not hurting you am I?”

His hands were warm on her cheeks, his fingers gently massaging his erection through her skin. She tried to shake her head in answer.

Whether he understood or her response didn’t matter, he smiled. “Do you like when I have this much power over you? Do you like to service me, baby? I sure as hell like it,” he murmured, clearly not requiring an answer. “Move now,” he said softly, releasing his grip. “Slowly. Oh, fuck… that’s good. You’re learning, baby.” He slowly exhaled, gently flexed his hips, shut his eyes briefly as she gasped, took him deeper, and the world went still for a second. “You’re getting good at this,” he breathed a moment later when his brain started up again. “Maybe we could teach you to
like
it
rough. Maybe with enough repetition—you’ll learn to like it any way I want.” Grabbing her chin, he abruptly withdrew his dick, forced her head up. “What do you say, baby? You always like to come. You’re willing to do just about anything for that, aren’t you? So you’ll learn, won’t you? Answer me, baby.” His fingers were leaving marks on her face; she couldn’t move her head. “Blink for yes.”

She dragged in a breath, tried to ignore the hard pulsing between her legs, the powerful raging lust screaming through her senses. A second passed, his fingers bit deeper. She blinked.

He smiled faintly. “Good girl. But then you have a real appetite for fucking, don’t you?” he said, low-pitched, a strange steely undertone to his comment. Releasing her chin, he smoothed his fingertips over the angry red marks in a considering gesture, as though reviewing his options. Then he leaned over, slid his hands under her arms, lifted her to her feet. “Maybe it’s time to teach you some useful skills. Undress for me. Leave your bra on. I like to see my tits bound. Clear?” Each word was clipped and brusque, uncompromising. “Speak, Katherine.” He dipped his head, his smile wicked. “Or blink if you prefer. I’ll get the message.”

“You’re such a prick,” she hissed, even as every shimmering nerve ramped up for action, even as the moist ache of desire was making her desperate.

“But you want it anyway, don’t you, baby?” he said gently, as if he had X-ray vision and could see her brain waves, her pulsing core. “Answer. You’re wasting valuable fucking time.”

She hated herself for wanting him, deep down and visceral, she really did. And for a flashing moment she wondered if she could refuse him. But she wasn’t that self-sacrificing and he wouldn’t let her anyway.

“Yes, you son of a bitch.”

“You swear a lot. We’re going to have to clean up your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

His thousand-watt smile was instant and insolent. “Moody, but a recognizable verb. As soon as you’re undressed, baby, we’ll work on the fucking lessons.”

Damn his breathtaking good looks and hard-ass body, his outrageous sex appeal and gigantic dick. Had a woman ever said no to him?

He lightly tapped her bottom lip in a flagrant gesture of possession. “I appreciate your interest, but get rid of the clothes.” He swept a fingertip along the underside of one breast. “Remember, leave the bra on.”

Lounging against the door, he watched her, his gaze half lidded while she slid off her shoes, unzipped her jeans, wiggled out of them. He looked amused as she folded her jeans and set them on the vanity. Then, slipping off her lace panties, she placed them on her jeans and turned to face him.

“Jesus Christ, Katherine.” His voice was heated, his gaze in contrast, cool, assessing, an obscure emotion shimmering in its depths as he surveyed her standing there, small, shapely, her pubic hair gleaming damply between her legs, her big tits straining the fine lace. She looked even more naked with the dark green lace in sharp contrast to her pale
skin, the half-undressed image blatantly erotic. The fact that she was standing there on his orders was messed up as hell and incalculably lurid.

And not just for him.

She shouldn’t respond so predictably to his orders—so readily, so shamelessly. She shouldn’t instantly capitulate just because he was too beautiful for words, or because some inexplicable crash of endorphins and pheromones spiked through her brain. She should have more sense. But he had only to look at her with that predatory gleam and she was flooded with sharp set desire, her body dissolved into a lustful puddle of want. And nothing else mattered.

“You look fantastic, baby. Your big tits locked in tight and everything else open for business.” He went absolutely still. “Although with your randy pussy, maybe we should lock that up when I’m not around… Get you a chastity belt.” His mouth pursed. “I don’t suppose there’s much call for those anymore. I’d like to have one made.”

“Jesus, time out, freak.” But her voice turned wispy at the end as a hot lewd jolt coiled like a pinwheel in her wetter than wet sex, making her dizzy with longing.

He gave her a knowing smile. “You like that? I thought you might. Gold or silver for your chastity belt, baby? We should probably put my name on it just to remind you who you belong to, who owns you. Because coercion turns you on, doesn’t it? You like to be ordered to fuck me, don’t you?”

“No.” The single syllable was shaky.

He laughed. “That’s a helluva needy sound, baby. You don’t really mean no, do you?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, answering for her. “A little discipline makes you cream your pussy. We both know that. Look at me, Katherine. I need an answer.”

Her gaze came up, her nostrils flared. “Maybe.”

His smile was wicked. “And maybe if I fuck the hell out of you we’ll find out for sure.” He pointed at his boots. “Kneel. Unlace them. This could take a while.”

“Dominic, please. Everyone will know. Your sister.” But even as she spoke, her body, her quivering senses, were begging him to fuck her.

“What about my sister?” he said, frost in his voice. “Kneel, baby.” He pointed again. “Do it.”

His expression was cold and ruthless; the man who gave orders that others obeyed. Not just here, but everywhere in the world.

“Dominic… please.” She opened her mouth, hesitated under his chill gaze, moved closer instead, put her hand on his powerful arm, looked up. “Could the boots wait? I’m not saying no. I wish I could,” she whispered. “But we shouldn’t stay here too long.”

He didn’t move, his body held in check.

She rested her forehead on his chest. “Please?”

He was rigid at first, silent and unyielding at first, then he shifted slightly, slowly exhaled, and she felt the first stirring of hope. A split second passed, or it might have been years, then he looped his arms around her, ran his thumbs lightly up and down her spine, and brought his chin down on the top of her head. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I want you too much. It makes me crazy.” He sounded tired.

“Me too,” she said into his sweater, wishing that she
didn’t want him so badly. That he wasn’t so beautiful and strong and perfect. That she didn’t have to lose her independence every single time he smiled at her.

If she hadn’t had a month to recognize how powerfully she craved him, if she hadn’t realized in Missoula that sex with just any man wasn’t enough, if she didn’t know that a month from now, or a week or even less than that, she might never see him again, she might have had more pride. Instead, she raised her face to him. “I’ll unlace your boots, but let’s not stay here long. If that’s all right with you,” she added, so deferentially he quickly scanned her face to see if she was taunting him.

Then she slid down onto her knees, which effectively answered that question.

“Ten, fifteen minutes,” he said. “How’s that?”

It was her turn to study his face.

Their eyes met.

“I just want to fuck you, baby,” he said gently. “I don’t want to fight. And look,” he added with a sigh, lifting her to her feet. “I can undress myself.” He ran his palms over her mounded, lace-covered breasts, slowly smiled. “But keep that on.”

“Control freak.” But she was smiling too, because she was astonishingly happy when he smiled like that, when she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Yeah. No shit.”

“I might
want
to undress you though.” She held his gaze, touched the soft cashmere sweater. “Maybe I won’t
let
you undress yourself.”

He smiled. “Go for it, baby. Either way I win.”

“We can argue about who wins the most later,” she said, feeling purely forgiven and recklessly happy. She slid her hands under his sweater, up his ripped abs and taut rib cage, past his hard muscular pecs. Then he helped her pull the sweater off because she couldn’t reach high enough even after he’d dipped his head.

He stood perfectly still after that, with the exception of his erection, which had a mind of its own. And he watched with pleasure as she knelt at his feet, unlaced his boots, tapped first one ankle then the other, and slipped them off. He raised his feet again so she could take off his socks. And he sucked in his breath when her hand brushed his dick as she slid his jeans and boxers down his hips.

She lifted her gaze, smiled at him. “I really wish we were home.”

She’d said home.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good. “Same here,” he said. “We won’t stay long.” Then he took her hand, led her to the chaise that overlooked the courtyard, sat, and pulled her down so she straddled his legs, adjusted his palms over the taut lace covering her creamy breasts, and said, “Tell me when you’ve had enough. Then it’s my turn and we’re out of here.”

She placed her hands over his and said in a very small voice because she was beginning to tremble, “How long do we have to stay at the party?”

“An hour at the most… less,” he said when he saw her pout. “I promised Nicole a chess game and if the game’s over in ten minutes, she’ll know it’s bogus. Come watch me.”

“I suppose I can’t be completely selfish.” Leaning in, she
took his face in her hands and kissed him because he was ridiculously beautiful and she couldn’t resist.

He smiled when she sat back, wanting to give her the world when she kissed him like that. “Except for your orgasms,” he said, knowing he could give her that right now. “You can be selfish there, baby.”

“You’re so sweet.”

He laughed. “Let me get that in writing for the next argument.” Placing his hands on her waist, he gently raised her, his twitching dick pretty much done with talking. And when she slowly lowered herself down his stiff cock, when they felt the fucking earth move, when they shut their eyes against the stark, raw, incredulous pleasure, they both wondered how one person could so completely and utterly change the world.

Once she was brim full and he was maxed out, and the warm, sumptuous pressure was sliding up their spines like velvet heat, he grabbed her bottom, flexed his fingers, held her firmly in place, and rolled his hips upward hard.

She gasped. “Again.” A breathy, suffocated, muted sound.

Only audible to the man who was watching her like a hawk, feeling her quicken around him, knowing her hotheaded impatience. “Sure, baby.”

Harder that time because he really wasn’t sweet.

Her sharp cry added inches to his dick.

She was shaking.

“Too much?” he whispered, moving his hands up her back, gently stroking the dip of her spine. “Rest a minute?”

She dragged in a breath, nodded, and he lowered his
head and kissed her lips, softly, softly, soothing her jittery nerves. Then he bent his knees to offer her a support, eased her back, and traced her compressed nipples through the confining lace in slow, circular motions, his fingers exerting enough pressure for her to flinch.