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Dominic has found exactly the rhythm and pressure of teasing that I need, and he somehow knows it. I can’t help but think that he’s done this before, and that thought makes a strange and unwarranted spike of jealousy shoot through me.
At this point, though, I don’t care. It feels so damn good, his fingers against me, that it’s almost impossible to think about anything else. He’s working my clit like it’s his personal mission in life, like it’s what he was fucking born to do, and I keep squeezing my thighs around his hand, trying to ground myself as pleasure builds higher and higher.
“Now I need something from you, Sara,” he growls quietly. “Can you give it to me? Whatever I ask?”
“A-Anything,” I stutter.
Everything, if he keeps touching me like that.
I slit my eyes open just as he smiles, wolfish and hungry.
“I need you to come. Right here. Right now. You’re going to come for me.”
It doesn’t work like that. Or at least, it never has before.
Not until this very moment.
My thighs clamp together around his hand, my fingers gripping the edge of the bar, and I hide my face in the crook of his neck as I fall apart as quietly as I can manage.
“Fuck,” I whisper, the sound choked and low. “Fuck, oh fuck, ohh…”
Even in the throes of my orgasm, he doesn’t stop. He teases more and more out of me—more than I think I can give—with constant, insistent pressure. He murmurs to me, stroking the nape of my neck, but my brain is too mushy to really make out the words.
I wonder what we look like.
What I look like, coming undone in front of everyone. At least the bar is dark. I just hope it’s dark enough to keep this a secret.
Slowly and gently, Dominic disentangles us, leaning back a little.
I blink my eyes rapidly, watching as he slips his hand out from beneath my dress and my coat.
His fingertips glisten, slick with my arousal, and he gives me a wicked grin before bringing his finger—the finger that sent me over the edge—to his lips.
I almost come again as he tastes it, squirming in my seat. Holy fucking shit. I feel like I’m going to combust if I don’t get out of this coat.
“Ready to get out of here, Sara?” he asks, his voice a low rasp.
I don’t know how he can function at all right now, especially since I’m so close to losing it again. I nod, not trusting my voice, and this time, my wordless answer is good enough for him.
He throws a few bills on the bar, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist as I slide off the barstool.
Then Sara and Dominic step out into the cool San Francisco night.
Chapter 4
Sophie
The door to Dominic’s penthouse hotel room bursts open with such force that I wouldn’t be surprised if we put a hole in the wall. But I’m beyond caring. Beyond thinking about anything except this moment, Dominic’s hands fisted in my hair, tipping my head back, his tongue plundering my mouth.
He has me off balance, clinging to his solid arms, my fingers scrabbling for purchase across his muscular shoulders. But he’s also the only thing keeping me upright. It’s confusing, but I’m going with it. It’s the only thing to do, because my world is turned upside down, and my body is thrumming with irresistible need.
A sudden draft has me shivering, and Dominic chuckles darkly. His big hands warm my bare shoulders, and my brain finally realizes that my coat is pooling on the floor around my feet.
“Titillating, indeed,” he murmurs, stroking the fabric of my barely-there dress, and I know he’s imagining how I must have looked at the sex club wearing this. “All those men there had their chance, and now you’re all mine.”
I gasp as he drags his teeth along the edge of my jaw, trailing kisses and small bites down my throat.
He’s so possessive. It should raise my hackles, but it has the opposite effect. I want to be his. After a night when I could have belonged to anybody, I belong to him. It’s intoxicating.
