“My entire life depends on predictability, knowing others’ moves before they do themselves, and analyzing every factor in my life from every angle.”
Disappointment blooms in my gut, the voice in my head chastising me for thinking I could be more than a fuck for a man like Dominick. But the ever-hopeful pixie in my heart whispers that if he wanted a quick fuck, he wouldn’t have shown up to my new work and brought me to his home. He wouldn’t follow me and protect me, even when it’s not needed.
He certainly doesn’t do that for the other dancers at Petals. Maybe . . . maybe I do have a place in his life, the crazy loop-di-loop straw that stirs his quiet drink into a tornado and brings a bit of chaos to his perfect order?
The thought gives me the strength to meet his eyes equally. “And what is my place in that life of order, Dominick?”
Dominick takes my hand, his voice strong and sure. “You are impossible to predict. The things you say, the way you behave, the paths your mind takes, I never quite know with you. I find it invigorating and refreshing. Your chaos disturbs me, but I daresay, I secretly find it beautiful in a messy way. As if your being is livelier simply because you don’t try to cage it into submission.”
His words wash over me, silkily working their way into every dark crevice where doubts and insecurities lie, filling me with breath. Before I can consider the consequences, I attack him, pressing my full lips to his with abandon and letting my body finally press against his completely.
Every hard plane of his chest and abdomen meets my softness, my breasts and belly conforming around him to maximize every bit of contact as I climb into his lap, straddling him and pinning him to the couch temporarily.
He tastes of coffee and mint, energizing and powerful. His hands catch on my hips, an automatic response to my weight being thrown on him, but then he grasps my flesh, dimpling my skin under his fingers.
I can feel the thoughts swirling in his head, the buzz of whether we should do this, or maybe it’s whether we should do this now. But I’ve wanted it, wanted him as I tracked him as much as he watched me. The rules may have changed mere days ago, but this has been months coming and I’m not willing to wait any longer.
I nibble at his bottom lip, demanding his presence in this moment, here with me, not in his thoughts. For this instant, I’m the boss, and the sharp edge of my teeth seems to do the trick. He growls into me and I swallow the sound.
“Allison—” he starts, and I can hear his question in the singular word. I don’t want his hesitation, so I cut him off, something I know he’d never allow someone else, but I take the liberty anyway, taking him at his word that he appreciates my challenging personality.
“Fuck me, Dominick,” I growl, grinding down onto the hard bulge that’s appeared in his trousers, rubbing it against the heat between my legs. “Fill me and make me yours.”
There’s the briefest flash of surprise at my words, and then he takes control, his hands tightening around my ass cheeks and cupping me roughly.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for, but very well, love. Remember, you asked for this.” His words are a dark promise, one I want to hold him to and that I have every belief he can deliver on.
Sitting forward, he surges off the couch and lifts me like I’m as light as a feather, his strength thrilling me as my legs wrap around his torso naturally. He strides down the hall and up a flight of marble stairs, carrying me easily before tossing me onto a bed.
I want to look around, take in his space here, but my eyes refuse to leave his. His fingers dig into the waistband of my sweats, taking them and the shorts underneath off in one fell swoop while I pull my shirt and bra over my head.
Bared to him, I pose like I’m gracing the cover of a naughty calendar, not a single doubt in my head as to how sexy he finds me when he looks at me the way he is.
His jacket seems to evaporate he has it off so quickly, his fingers flying as they undo his shirt, virtually throwing it and his undershirt off.
It’s the first time I’ve seen this much of his skin, and I want to touch every inch of his chest, to trace the other tattoos I didn’t even know he had. They’re not overly done, but they’re there, and my mouth waters as I think about outlining each and every one of them with my tongue.
I lift to my elbows to make sure I don’t miss a thing as he keeps going. As many times as he’s watched me strip down to next to nothing, it feels sexy to watch him remove his clothes for me, though there’s no slow seduction. It’s all rushed need.
His hands work at his belt, and his slacks fall before he lowers the front of his boxer-briefs, letting his cock out.
My breath stutters, failing me. It’s like the rest of him, thick and powerful, the wide tip standing proudly from his body. He wraps a hand around the length, and as he gives himself a stroke, a bead of precum pearls at the tip.
His voice is deep, smooth as silk as he sees my hungry reaction, but there’s an undercurrent of arrogance. “Like what you see?”
I like that it sounds like something I’d say, like maybe my sass is rubbing off on him just a little bit. I bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes, and nod, not sure exactly what I’m begging for.
“Please.”
He climbs onto the bed, looming over me as he lays me back, and I spread my legs, welcoming him. He grinds his hips against mine, rubbing his cock along my folds, coating himself in my wetness. I can feel my legs trembling, my hips lifting to encourage him where I need him.
Dominick pins me between his arms, his eyes burning with an inner light, their depths gleaming with lust and . . . more, just for me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, how many times I’ve dreamed of you this way,” he rasps, his body vibrating from the restraint as he looks at me, his hips paused momentarily. “In my bed, begging for my cock, ready to take everything I can give you.”
I can hear the promise in the dirty words, and I want it all. I wrap my arms around his back, and my breathy moan seems to be the tipping point. He thrusts into me in one sharp movement, sheathing himself fully, driving the breath out of my body. He’s huge, and even with the fingering he gave me a few days ago, my body is shocked, galvanized as if I’m a newly-broken virgin, opening for the first time.
He pauses balls-deep, filling me until I’m riding that edge of pleasure and pain. I can feel my inner walls quivering, gripping him greedily, so I wrap my legs around his, tangling with him to hold him inside me. My nails score his back, and I growl, demanding more.
“Yes,” I cry out softly as he rolls his hips, making the pain melt away. He lies on me, pressing me into the soft bedding with his weight and slipping his hands under my shoulders to clasp me to him, pinning me helpless to the foam as he kisses me hard.
I arch, both loving and hating the restraint. I want to perform for him, to show him how much he pleases me, how he makes my soul cry out for his completion, but instead, I’m forced to take what he offers me.
His strokes are sharp and short as he rapidly spears into me, hitting a spot deep inside me that drives me wild.
“Oh, my God, Dominick,” I cry out, already dangerously close to coming.
His eyes seek out mine, the room’s bright light leaving nowhere to hide. He can see me, the reckless abandon he’s driven me to as I beg and plead for more, shamelessly wanting him to take me to the edge. But I can see him too, see the depth of his desire. I can see the joy at finally being right where we’ve both wanted him to be, inside me, making us into one, if only for a moment.
Our breath mingles in the small space between us, creating a world all our own. Dominick presses his forehead against mine, his hips slapping roughly against me and shaking my body all the way up my spine.
“Look at me, Allison. Say my name when you come.”
It’s a demand, but one I happily obey, not wanting to look away from him for even a second. He slams into me, hard enough that I know I’ll feel his mark tomorrow, and his name escapes with every thr
ust, over and over again, like a mantra. I leap into the abyss this time, unafraid as he holds me tightly, knowing that he’s got me, and I’m awash in the pleasure.
“Dominick . . . Dominick . . .”
And though my eyes try to roll in pleasure, his fierce look holds me steady, and I stay connected to him as the tidal wave washes through me. He grimaces, his cock growing impossibly harder inside me as I squeeze against his thickness. I can feel him holding back, but I need him to give in to this moment, so I boldly entice him.
“Come inside me, Dominick. Please.”
I think the pleading note does it, and he stills, holding himself deep inside me as he roars. I feel the throbbing heat as he fills me, but as full as I feel, both with his cock and his cum, what fills me the most is my name on his lips, breathy and weak, as though it takes everything he has to get the three syllables past his lips.
“Allison.”
Chapter 10
Dominick
“Here. Eat this,” I say, placing a small plate of cheese and crackers on the island in front of Allie.
She’s mussed and soft, wearing my undershirt and nothing else. Her hair seems to be held up in a bun by magic because she just did some fancy twist with practiced ease and it stayed.
It’s one of the multitudes of secrets I want to know about her.
“Yes, sir,” she says sassily, one eyebrow quirked and a smirk taking her lips. She tosses me a sarcastic salute and then reaches out to pick up a cracker and a small slice of cheese, stacking them and popping the whole thing in her mouth.
A win for us both. I set a glass of water in front of her too and watch raptly as she stacks another slice of cheese onto a cracker before holding it out to me.
It’s such a small gesture, but the sweet offering has multiple layers of meaning, and I eat from her hand, making sure to nibble her fingertips slightly.
Her giggle brings a full smile unbidden to my face. It feels both odd and somehow natural, like something I’ve forgotten how to do. I try to remember the last time I smiled without having some ulterior motive behind it, the last time I laughed with true humor.
It’s been a depressingly long time. The realization makes me frown, and Allie’s eyebrows lift in worry.
“Hey, where’d you go?” she asks around a mouthful of crumbly cracker.
I wipe a crumb from her lip with my thumb, shaking my head. “Just thinking.”
As my silence draws out a bit longer, she sighs, giving me a Come on, buddy look. “Normally, people say, ‘penny for your thoughts,’ but I’m thinking you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about a penny, so how about a kiss for your thoughts?”
She grins, flirtatious and happy at the brilliance of her idea. She’s not wrong. It’s a good negotiation point for our current situation and she knows it.
“Okay, but I’ll take the kiss first.”
I lean in toward her, forcing my way between her legs as she sits on the barstool. She lifts her chin, her lips pursing slightly. I pause for a moment to marvel at her absolute beauty, cupping her chin and forcing her to lift higher to meet me as I bend down.
With one last look into her eyes, I kiss her, enjoying the moment her lashes flutter as she closes her eyes to enjoy the contact. Only then do I close my eyes too, and I let myself plunge, lost in her wild brambles and the overwhelming emotions she draws out of me so easily.
Breathlessly, she breaks the kiss, another angelic smile on her face. “Wow. That was . . . wow. But don’t think I forgot our deal. What were you thinking about that took your smile and turned it upside down?”
She reaches up, pushing at the corners of my mouth with her fingers like I’m a frowning toddler. It’s irreverent madness and I love that she feels comfortable enough to do it.
I let her tease a small smile out once again before confessing. “You make me smile so easily, and I was trying to remember the last time I truly smiled or laughed in happiness. It was painfully long ago, I’m afraid.”
Her mouth opens in surprise. “That’s . . .” she says before pausing and shaking her head and starting over.
“Tell me something that made you smile. From a long time ago or from recently, whatever you want. Just tell me something that made you happy.”
I lift my eyebrow and giving a pointed look down the hallway toward my bedroom. “Well . . .”
She laughs but puts a finger to my mouth before I can say more. “Not that, although I’ll give you a bonus as incentive to spill your guts.” She pauses to let her meaning sink in, then points down the hall and stage-whispers like her words are a secret, “That was awesome, maybe more missionary than I expected from you, but also so much more . . . intensely intimate than I’ve ever had.”
She blushes as she says it, like she rethought her confession halfway through but completed the thought anyway. Her guts impress me, make me want to give as much as she is, which is the point, I suppose.
I sit on the barstool next to her, trying to decide what to divulge.
“First, I’ll agree that was something different. You are different.” I run my hand along her bare thigh, wishing I could avoid the rest of the conversation and just throw her on the island and fuck her again. Maybe a little less missionary this time, perhaps with her cheek pressed to the granite and her apple ass in the air for me. I have a suspicion I’ll always want to be inside her. Every moment I’m not feels like I’m missing an integral part of my being. She’s the one person I’ve ever felt totally at ease with, and being inside her . . . it’s heaven.
But I owe her something beyond the physical, at least for a moment. “Something that made me smile? Once upon a time, I was a little boy.”
She feigns shock, teasing me with a hand on her cheek. “You? A little boy? That’s hard to imagine. You seem like the type that just sprang forth, fully-grown and serious, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You were probably born with an Armani suit on. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Well then, tell me about Little Dominick. Paint me a picture of that first.”
I think back, nodding to myself as I recall the memories. “Actually, I guess I was a bit like a mini-me even then, a serious child who mostly read, played chess, and excelled at school. I didn’t really have many friends, at first because I was quiet and studious, not really the gregarious kid who drew people in.”
Allie hums, and I continue. “Later, some who were in the know became afraid of me because of my dad. But as I grew up, I learned to use that to my advantage, and I spent most of my teen years as a bit of a hellion, confident that no one could or would dare touch me. I was, I’m sorry to say, a bit of an entitled jerk. Ironically, I’d become what I thought I didn’t want to be. That changed on my sixteenth birthday though.”
In my mind, I can see my mother holding up my favorite chocolate cake, a sad smile on her face illuminated by the single candle. I hadn’t understood it then, but she’d known that when I blew out that candle, my world would change and I would become an apprentice for my father.
“That was when I started working for my father as his right hand . . . good, bad, or ugly, and there was plenty of each. It shaped me, changed me. I’d already gone from a quiet, nerdy kid into a rowdy street urchin too cocky for his own good, but after that I became . . . The Boss.”
It’s the first time we’ve acknowledged the elephant in the room since she first found out exactly who I am. It’s been mentioned in conversations, but it’s the first time those words have crossed my lips about myself in her presence. I gird myself for her reaction, ready for the judgment and the disgust to cross her face.
But there isn’t any. Instead, she studies me silently for a heartbeat, then another. “You’ve heard the expression ‘rough around the edges’?”
I nod, unsure where she’s going with this. “Yeah?”
She continues. “I think that once upon a time, you were rough around the edges. I’ve heard stories. Hell, I’ve see
n you have to handle business in the club a time or two. You’re street smart, willing to cheat, get dirty, do what’s needed. But also, like a sword, you’ve honed your edges through years of work, experience, and knowledge, and now, you’re more like the sharpest blade, gleaming and dangerous on the surface. But still with that roughness at the core. You are The Boss, with all that entails, but you’re also still that quiet boy too. You’ve spent so long trying to hide it . . . but I see it. And to me, I think it’s the best part about you, Dom. You know what I’ve noticed?”
“What’s that?” I ask, and she gives me a smile that stops my heart again.
“You almost never curse in your work. You don’t need to because you let your intelligence help you get your point across with a fierce elegance. But when we’re together, you do curse, and I think it’s because you relax around me, let your rough edges show. Side note—it’s hot when you talk dirty, so don’t be using fancy language for that shit or I’ll cover your mouth so you don’t distract me with some thees and thous. A well-timed ‘Fuck, Allie’ can sometimes say more than a whole Shakespearean sonnet, know what I mean?”
She winks at me, then grins. “You could do with a bit of crazy to shake up your controlled, precise existence and force you to let loose and enjoy life. I know you’re The Boss, but spend some time as the hellion and the quiet kid too. I’d like to get to know all three characters you have hiding in there.” She lays a hand on my chest and then pats me like that’s a done deal.
Her words soothe something in me I didn’t even know was ruffled, a question I didn’t know I had. “That sounds oddly accurate.”
The quiet descends and stretches out between us, but it’s comfortable, our eyes locked on one another as the weight of my confession and her analysis sinks in. The fact that she’s so insightful but somehow not running honestly surprises me.
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