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Beyond decorum, I push forward, desperate to drive his finger the rest of the way. But Dominic’s smirk only widens as he continues rubbing back and forth with light strokes. I’m hopelessly falling, my body slipping into submission.
“Dominic…”
“Words, sweet heiress. I need the words.”
“Come,” I gasp. “I’d want them to watch you make me come.” I’m glad it’s dark because my face burns at my own wantonness. Biting my lip, I turn to the side, only to shriek as a brutal bite stings against my hips. Shocked, I glance down to see Dominic holding my thong in his hand.
“That’s a fantasy you can just tuck the fuck away, your highness,” he growls, his entire demeanor shifting as he lifts the shredded lace between us. “Because this pussy is mine, and nobody watches it come but me.” The corded muscles in his neck strain as he shoves my panties in his pocket.
“Dom—” I never get the rest of his name out. After only one syllable, he returns his hand between my legs, and drives two fingers inside me so hard it takes my breath away. “Oh fuck!”
His thrusts border on cruel, and when his fingers curl toward my front wall, seeking out the one spot he knows will send me over the edge, my nails dig into the wall over my head, preparing for the orgasm I know is going to wreck me.
“Yes…”
And then nothing.
I open my eyes, realizing his hand is no longer inside me, and he’s staring at me, something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Something primal.
“Not this time.” Lifting his hand, he rubs his thumb and index finger together, already slick with my arousal. “I’m going back out there and shake hands with the most powerful people in this town with the scent of you on my fingers and the taste of you on my tongue. Now spread your legs.”
“W-what?”
“I won’t ask twice, Miss Romanov. Spread your legs, or I’ll spread them for you.”
Shaking, I widen my knees as far as my dress will allow, my stilettos scraping along the pristine floor. Dominic holds my eye as he sinks to one knee, lifting my leg and draping it over his shoulder. “Show me how hard an heiress comes,” he growls, “and maybe I’ll show you how hard a criminal fucks.”
That’s the last I see of him before he dips forward, and I feel his mouth against me. I want it more than I want my next breath, and at the same time I know it’s just another mind game. It’s another piece of control he’s taking.
But everything fades away the minute his tongue invades me. All semblance of reason evaporates, and all I can do is feel. My entire body bursts into flames as his mouth douses it with more and more gasoline.
“Dominic!” I scream, not giving a shit about the echo when he flattens his tongue, licking me from opening to clit then sucking hard on the bundle of nerves until I’m out of my mind, thrashing as his heavy stubble scrapes against my skin.
He doubles his efforts with voracity just as a burst of light explodes behind my eyes, and my world flips upside down. As if he can sense my impending orgasm, Dominic thrusts his fingers back inside me, pumping with the speed of a man possessed while wrapping his lips around my clit and circling his tongue like a goddamn tornado.
And just like a tornado, I’m swept away.
Leveled.
Destroyed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Cries pour out of me as I come hard, and Dominic grabs me around the waist to keep me upright. Slowly, he stands, and I slump against him as wave after wave of aftershocks ripple through me.
This man is going to be the death of me. Dominic is a manipulator used to getting what he wants. But with me, he’s force with limits. He’s control with trust. He’s coercion with consent. And God help me, I want to succumb to all of it.
After a few moments, he steadies me on my feet, and I watch both mesmerized and mortified as he wipes his glistening chin with the back of his hand and licks his lips. “Now, Miss Romanov, I believe it’s rude for the hostess to abandon her own party.” Turning, he offers his arm like we didn’t just defile a multimillion-dollar mansion. “Shall we?”
I wish I had a snappy comeback, but I don’t. I’m too exhausted, too confused, and too satisfied. So instead, I take his arm, and we make our way back toward the main ballroom.
“Take short steps, rook,” he muses as we turn the corner. Confused, I turn to find a smug smile plastered across his face. “Your panties are in my pocket.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ANGEL
There’s something to be said for self-reliance. Even as a teenager, wandering from shelter to shelter and street to street, I preferred being alone. With solitude came comfort and with no expectation came no disappointment.
I miss the security of isolation. When everything made sense, and I didn’t have all these conflicting emotions waging war inside my head. When every moment didn’t revolve around Dominic McCallum.
