Past Midnight (17 page)

Everything she denied was something she wanted. He would give it all to her. Then he spotted a rapid transit ticket. “You took BART?”

“I didn’t want to hassle with parking in the city.”

She’d planned to drive home with him in the morning, he was sure. Or . . . He wondered what had been in her mind? Later, when the game was over, he’d ask. Then again, the mystery of it might be fun.

He laid the vibrator beside her on the bed. “For the right moment,” he said, setting the gel on the side table.

She gazed at him with a skeptical eye.

He wanted to say he loved her, wanted to tell her this was the perfect scenario, that he would make everything good again.

Instead, he stripped off his jeans and briefs and climbed between her legs. “Prepare to scream when you come.”

Then he blew warm breath on her pussy.

Erin trembled with need, his dark head and broad shoulders so miraculous down there between her legs. “Only in your dreams,” she scoffed.

Dominic was capable of making her scream, but she wouldn’t, mainly because she didn’t want the people next door complaining to management. Besides, it was more fun to fight him.

But when he put his tongue to her pussy, she forgot about the desire to fight. There was only sensation, the caress of his smoothly shaven chin against her thigh, the swirl of his tongue, then the thickness of his fingers entering her. He licked and rode her G-spot in tandem. It was more than double the heat. Then he was gone, leaving her gasping for the unattainable peak.

“Bastard,” she muttered.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t like it.”

“I didn’t.” Which wasn’t a lie. She’d loved it. God, yes, she was glad she’d come back for more. Her original plan had been to do him in the dark, go home, and pretend she’d sent him a woman. She’d even thought about getting angry with him, acting jealous.

This was so much better. Since they hadn’t mutually agreed for sure that it was her in the dark, she could still do the jealousy thing later. There were so many possibilities. He made her feel like a different person here in this room.

Maybe feeling like someone else was all she needed to set her free.

She snapped her eyes open when he drizzled the warming gel on her pussy, letting it drip down over her clit. It heated, tingled, and when he put his finger to it, she almost shot off the bed.

She couldn’t help the moan that escaped. Oh God, this was delicious.

“Like that, don’t you?”

“I can take it or leave it.” If she agreed, he’d stop. If she said she hated it, he’d force it on her. “And licking me with it on your tongue isn’t going to do anything either.”

He laughed, a hot, sexy sound that thrummed along her nerves endings. In the last couple of weeks, he’d laughed more. It had all been about sex, but maybe that was okay.

“I’m not going to put the gel on my tongue,” he said, a gleam in his eye. Then he held up a tin. The mints from her purse. “I’m going to use these.” He slipped one on his tongue.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. They were extra strength and made her mouth tingle. God, what would it be like on her pussy in combination with the warming gel he’d already poured on her? She shuddered in anticipation.

For a moment, she had the crazy notion of thanking him. For this, the sex play, the game, taking her out of herself, making her feel, making her forget, but she didn’t want him to know how hard it was just to get up in the mornings sometimes. She didn’t want to remind him. Or remind herself.

“It’s not going to do a damn thing for me,” she groused.

“You’ll sing, you ungrateful little bitch.” He sucked her before she had a chance to form a comeback or an insult.

“Oh God.” Her head lolled on the pillow with the exquisite torture. The mint sent a zing through her whole body, hot, sizzling, overwhelming. He swirled it all around her, and for a moment, she truly went mindless. When he thrust two fingers inside her, hitting her G-spot unerringly, she capitulated and screamed out his name.

The orgasm shot through her like a starburst.

“You screamed,” he murmured, idly stroking her cleft, a smile of supreme satisfaction curving his lips as he crunched the last of the mint between his teeth.

“I was yelling for you to stop.” She yawned. “I’m really not interested.” There were no thumps on the wall. Hopefully she hadn’t screamed too loudly.

“You came”—he blew on her, eliciting a shudder—“you screamed”—he swiped his tongue one last time over her clit—“and now you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

She snorted, but she needed to feel him inside her. What she’d done to him in the dark hadn’t been enough.
God, make me feel,
she whispered only in her mind.

Dominic slid slick fingers along her pussy, down beneath her, then stroked her ass.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmured. They’d never done ass play, though sometimes he’d tried, especially after she’d had a margarita or two. But it was taboo. She couldn’t say why. Then she had to smile. So ass play was taboo, but letting Dominic make her come in a bar was just fine?

“You’re smiling. I know you want it.”

“I’m not smiling.” She lifted her head to look at him down between her legs. “I’m smirking because you’re so transparent.”

“Liar, liar,” he chanted softly, and probed her gently, not entering, just slow, rhythmic circles, pushing lightly.

She wriggled and dislodged him. “I’m done. I’m going to sleep.” She closed her eyes.

She didn’t know if she wanted it. She didn’t want to decide. She just wanted him to do it, make her come, make her scream, make her feel.

DOMINIC SHIFTED, HIS FINGERS BRUSHING HER SHIN JUST BEFORE the Velcro around her ankle ripped. He stretched to free her other leg. Grabbing her hips, he flipped her to her stomach, the rope between her wrists, which tethered the cuffs to the headboard, turning with her like meat on a spit.

Erin squeaked. “What the hell are you doing?”

He covered her, all that sleek, male flesh, his weight feeling so good on her, his cock along her ass, and one leg between her thighs. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Oh, no, you’re not, not like this.”

“Oh, yes, I am. You want it.” He slid to one side, then traced a finger down the crease of her ass. “Exactly like this.”

“It’s disgusting.” Her heart beat faster, in anticipation as much as fear.

“You want to feel me stretch you. You want me to take you to heights you’ve never been.”

“You’re not good enough.” He was silent a moment, and she feared she’d gone too far, shot off one too many cruelties she didn’t really mean.

His tongue teased the shell of her ear, his breath caressed her, and his words made her crazy. “Your ass is mine, baby. I own it. I’m going to fuck it. And you’re going to love it.”

Warm liquid trickled between her cheeks. She shivered as he rubbed in the lube, playing with her tight hole, massaging. She clamped down to keep him out and turned her head to glare over her shoulder.

“Let me in,” he whispered. “You’ll feel better than you ever have in your life.”

He seduced her with his naughty touches and soft words. But it wouldn’t do to give in too easily. He might think she wanted this, had fantasized about him forcing her to take it this way. That was giving him far too great an advantage. “I’m going to hate it.”

He licked her cheek, kissed her ear. “But I’m going to love it, so who the fuck cares what you want.”

Oh, he was really enjoying the role of pirate. “Asshole,” she murmured. Of course, it didn’t take him down at all because her ass was exactly what he wanted.

He probed, then breached her with the tip of his finger. Oh. Oh God. It was different, unique. Maybe even good.

“No,” he muttered at her ear, “
this
”—he rotated his finger slowly—“is a pretty little asshole.” Then he worked his hand beneath her belly, stroked down to her clit and played her from both sides.

She gulped, suddenly beyond words. He caressed, slid deeper, backed out, stretching her, all the while taking her clit, making her burn hotter.

“I want this,” he whispered, pushing deeper once more. “I need this.” His cock was hard and pulsing along her thigh. Body half covering her, he buried his face against her neck. His skin was musky with testosterone and spicy with a hint of aftershave.

As if she weren’t even in command of her own body, her hips tilted, giving him better access to her clit and her ass. She rocked with him, rolled, let him take her with his finger in the most intimate of places.

“How does it feel?” he whispered against her ear.

“Oh God.” She couldn’t have come up with an insult if she’d used every functioning brain cell.

“It’ll be even better with my cock in there.”

She was just nerves, skin, heat, wet, grinding with him. He very well might be right about how good it would be.

“Beg me.” It almost wasn’t his voice, just an elusive tendril of smoke wafting by her, a drug beckoning her.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“Fuck you where?” he pushed.

“Fuck me there.”

He didn’t let up, massaging her back and front, turning her boneless.

She couldn’t hold out against the sensations. “Please,” she begged. “Force me, make me do it. Just do it.”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured. “Feel how deep my finger is.”

She felt him inside, outside, everywhere. “Now” was the only other word she could manage.

She felt him ease away, pad to the bathroom, water ran. He returned with a warm washcloth, cleansed her, soothed her, warmed her.

Reaching above her head, he tugged on the Velcro at her wrists, freed her. Her arms ached slightly. Molding his chest to her back, he folded the vibrator into her hand, his words just a breath against her ear. “Use it.” Whether he ordered or urged didn’t matter. He wrapped an arm beneath her breasts, hugged her close, then raised them both to their knees.

Her heart galloped. Her pussy pulsed. He slathered them both with lubricant, then she felt the nudge of him.

“You’re too big,” she whispered, suddenly afraid.

He leaned over her. “I won’t hurt you. You want it, you need it, take me, please.” He eased a fraction deeper until she felt full, but not good yet.

“The vibrator,” he urged, tugging her wrist.

She turned the vibrator on one-handed, the buzz filling the room.

“That’s it. Use it on your clit.”

He rocked gently with her, moving their bodies together, getting her used to him. With the first touch of the vibrator on her clit, she moaned, sensation swamping her. She eased back, taking a little more of him.

“That’s it, baby. That’s good. God, yes.”

He covered her, surrounded her, and inside, she felt him pulse, throb. “Oh yeah,” she murmured, tipping her head back.

He leaned in to suck the flesh of her neck, licked the perspiration off her skin.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Make me do it, force me.”

He surged forward, and she took him deeper. “Christ, you feel so good, baby, so tight.” His groan rumbled against her back, her ear, setting free an answering tremble inside her.

It
was
good, unlike anything, something new, something beyond. Her legs shook, her body quivered. “Harder.”

She let him take control, deeper, faster, harder inside her. The pain was past, the pleasure overpowering, the vibrator and his cock working magic.

“Oh God, oh God,” she chanted, over and over, until finally the voice seemed to be coming from someone else.

“Baby, baby, baby.”

Her orgasm rushed up and over like a tsunami. There was only his flesh quaking inside her, heat streaking through her, swamping every sense, then the roar of his climax.

She was lost. Or maybe, in this moment, she was found.

AT NINE IN THE MORNING, DOMINIC WAS STARVING. HE WANTED bacon, eggs, hash browns, the works. He sidled into the booth overlooking Powell Street. Cars, circa 1950s, had been cut in half lengthwise and somehow fastened into the plaster high on the diner’s walls: a turquoise ’57 Chevy, a Buick, a yellow roadster. Outside, the streets were festooned with garlands and Christmas bells, the sidewalks teeming with shoppers looking for bargains and specials. Inside, voices and laughter echoed off the high ceiling. The booths were red, the table tops Formica, and the food was as American as baseball and apple pie. And just as good.

But last night was better, so good his blood was still singing. It was beyond the physical, it had grabbed hold of his heart, soothed something deep in his soul. He didn’t think she was ready to hear that, though. “What’ll you have, honey?”

Erin studied the menu, then raised just her eyes. “Half your bacon and half your toast.”

He snorted. “Forget it. Order your own.”

“Tightwad,” she muttered.

“Hey, I’m springing for breakfast.”