by Score, Lucy
“Fuck you, Ally.”
“No. Fuck you, Malina. We’re not in some Hunger Games competition for male attention,” I spat out. “Don’t you think you’re worth more than being some rich dick’s trophy lay?” I mean, at this point, I wasn’t sure she was. There didn’t seem to be a human being under all those layers of contouring and fillers.
“Now who are you trying to convince?” she shot back. “You follow Dominic around like a cat in heat.”
Ouch. That one hurt.
“You need to stop acting like men are some precious commodity and go find your soul somewhere. Because you are a truly horrible person, and right now, I don’t know if there is anyone on this entire island who would be sad if you got hit by a bus tonight.”
“Are you threatening me?” Her eyes narrowed to slits.
I rolled my eyes. “No. You idiot. I’m not threatening to steal a city bus and run you over with it. I’m trying to warn you. You’re young and smart and beautiful, and you are wasting it all on being a raging asshole. Do you really want to be on the receiving end of an alimony check from someone like Paul Russo? A man who used you and saw you as nothing more than an accessory? Or do you want to live and love and find some scrap of happiness or whatever your vampire equivalent is?”
I didn’t have the energy to dodge the slap. Plus I’d just caught a glimpse of a cheese danish that was calling my name and kind of missed the diva-worthy wind-up. The shithead caught me on my pre-existing bruises.
“That’s the only shot you get at me or anyone else I care about, Malina. So take your flat ass and your bony elbows home and think long and hard about what you want in this life,” I hissed.
She looked like she was thinking about hitting me again, and I looked for a nearby chair to hit her in the face with if necessary. But then the beautiful, soulless blonde whirled away from me and stormed toward the lobby.
I felt sorry for her. I mean, I totally hated her guts also. But somehow, me dating Dominic Russo had cracked this woman’s fragile sense of purpose. It wasn’t love she had for him. It was designs of a grander life. And, in her twisted, malnourished mind, I’d taken that opportunity away from her.
“Damn, girl. That looked like it hurt,” the cashier called to me. “You want a free ice cream?”
“I really do.”
“Take your pick, honey. That one is a rattlesnake.”
“How do you feel about being my witness if she tries to sue me or get me fired?”
“Happy to.” The woman nodded. “Take two ice creams,” she insisted. “You can put one on your face.”
57
Ally
Dance class passed in a sweaty blur of thumping beats, high heart rates, and good spirits. My little class seemed to expand every week. The windows were steamed, faces glowed, and dancers of all ages and sizes high-fived on their way out the door.
“That was amazing,” Gola announced, patting her face with a towel.
“Yeah. Uh-huh. Tell us everything,” Ruth said, grabbing me by the front of my sweaty tank.
“Motion seconded,” Missie said between swigs of water.
“There isn’t much to tell,” I lied.
“Bullshit,” Ruth coughed into her hand.
“Have you had sex?” Missie wanted to know.
“I’m not answering that.”
“Question: Does naked Dominic Russo have the same brain-melting potency or a higher dosage than fully clothed Dominic Russo?” Ruth asked.
“Definitely not answering that.”
“How did he ask you out? Was it super romantic?” Gola wondered.
“That one I’ll answer. I believe he told me that we were officially dating and that if I had any concerns, too bad because we were seeing this through.”
“That’s totally romantic!” Missie crooned.
We shrugged into coats and scarves and headed the two blocks north to the designated bar. On the walk, I deflected questions like a ninja.
“Did you guys hear that Malina got into a fight with someone in the cafeteria this afternoon?” Ruth asked, staring at her phone.
I decided to keep my mouth shut.
“I heard she came back to the admin pool crying and just walked out,” Gola said.
“I heard someone hit her in the face with a cafeteria tray and called her a stupid asshole.”
“I don’t think that’s what happened,” I interjected.
My friends continued to entertain themselves by asking more ridiculous questions and ignoring my even more ridiculous answers.
Is he a tiger in the sheets?
Who puts a tiger in their sheets?
How did it happen?
I went to a voodoo priestess and cast a love spell on him.
Are you in love?
How about we figure out if we like each other first?
Do you just run around yelling at each other all the time?
Okay. That one I could answer honestly. Yes.
I got my revenge when I opened the door to the bar, a cool speakeasy kind of vibe with an entire wall dedicated to just bourbons. Warmth and laughter spilled out, and Gola rushed in. But she stopped short just inside the door, and Ruth walked into her back. It was a three-body pileup when they all realized Dominic Russo was waiting at the bar.
It looked like Dominic had brought along a few extra friends too. In addition to Harry and Delaney, there were three other suited stock-broker types each vying to tell a better punchline.
“You Sneaky McSneakerson,” Gola hissed in my ear. “I survived a whole day with the man as my boss, and now you expect me to have a drink with him?”
“Yup,” I answered. But my attention was on Dominic.
He abandoned the conversation he was having with Delaney and a guy with a Garfield the cat tie and crossed to me. It was a magnetic force that drew us together. One that I thought should have dulled a little since we’d finally given in to temptation.
His gaze traveled the length of my body, pausing in what I now knew were his favorite places. The curve of my hips, the hint of skin between my pants and cropped sweatshirt. My breasts, even though they were secured and smushed by a sports bra.
I returned the survey. Slate gray slacks that were just loose enough to fall short of the adjective “indecent.” A navy tie that I intended to wrap around my fist at my earliest convenience. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair, that lovely brownish-blond mess of it, was effortlessly styled. I wanted to mess it up while reminding myself that this man was mine.
We met in the middle. Our posses at our backs, eyeing each other with interest.
“Looks like you brought backup,” I said softly. But it came out kind of breathlessly because all I could do was think about how much I wanted his mouth on mine. He’d given me one hell of a kiss when he’d dropped me off for class. Hands roaming, teeth nipping. Dark, delicious promises of things to come.
And I wanted more promises out of him.
He leaned in, and my heart rate returned to post-“Uptown Funk” choreography levels. But he merely grazed his lips over my temple. I heard one or two of the girls let out a swoony sigh behind me.
“Five minutes, and then we abandon these people so I can fuck you in the car,” he whispered in my ear.
“An hour,” I countered.
Those blue eyes narrowed on me. “Thirty minutes, and you take your underwear off in the restroom so we don’t waste any time later.”
I licked my lips, and he followed the motion. “Deal.”
His expression softened, lips lifted. “Look at us negotiating.”
“And they say relationships are hard,” I joked.
“Five minutes to lose the underwear,” he reminded me. “Now, let’s make a horrible mistake and introduce our friends.”
It took a few minutes of everyone staring at Dom and me like we were alien overlords sent to enslave the human race before they all lightened up. Dominic included.
He was lighter, happier around his friends. There was an ea
sy camaraderie between him and his old coworkers. I liked seeing him like this, and from the telltale glances Gola, Ruth, and Missie were exchanging, they did too.
I was reacquainted with Harry and Delaney, who had already had an impressive amount of wine to drink.
Dominic’s friend Mike with the Garfield tie seemed to take a liking to the petite Missie. Ruth dove into an argument about bourbon barrel aging with one of the other financial types. Gola’s new boyfriend showed up, and I watched their sweet, nervous greeting with joy.
Dominic was deep in discussion with one of his former coworkers about very boring-sounding reports when he subtly tapped his watch without even looking at me.
I grinned. If he wanted to play a private little game, I was more than willing to kick his ass at it. I excused myself from Gola and her boyfriend and followed the service hallway to a short flight of stairs with signs for the restrooms. I found the ladies’ room tucked away on the second floor just outside a darkened private dining room.
Inside, I successfully shimmied out of my workout tights and underwear before taking a picture of my pretty pink thong and attaching it to a text.
Me: Mission accomplished.
I sent a second picture. This one of… Well, let’s just say it was what my underwear had been covering.
I smirked to myself as I got dressed again, imagining Dominic’s face when he saw the texts.
Still feeling awfully proud of myself, I slipped out of the restroom. And found myself crushed between Dominic’s pelvis and the wall.
He was ragingly hard. I could feel his unyielding erection pressed against the soft of my belly. More promises.
He kissed me like it was the only thing he’d had on his mind for years. Hungry. Demanding. Desperate.
“Give them to me, Ally.” His voice was a filthy, carnal growl. And it couldn’t have turned me on more than if he’d said it completely naked with his cock pointing at me.
Breathing heavily, I reached into the pocket of my sweatshirt and handed over my underwear.
Pinning me with his gaze, he brought the crumpled, cheap pink lace to his nose. My jaw fell open, and once again, I found myself questioning whether I was about to wake up from a coma in a hospital room somewhere.
God, I hoped it wasn’t going to be right this second. Because Dominic had plans for me.
He half dragged, half carried me through the doorway of the dark dining room and then spun me around to face the wall.
My heart was in my throat. My mouth was dry with need. All I wanted in this entire world was this man. Nothing else existed when he touched me like this.
“I can’t not touch you, Ally,” he groaned in my ear, nipping at the lobe as he shoved his hand down the front of my pants.
I braced my palms on the wall as he leaned his weight into me.
“Yes.” It came out as a hiccup. Because the very bad man slid two very nice fingers deep inside me, and I forgot how to do unnecessary things like breathe. “Dominic.”
He pumped his fingers into me over and over again as my greedy flesh clamped down on him. My legs, now officially some sort of jelly, started to tremble.
“I want you, Dom. I want you inside me.”
“Fuck, baby.”
I didn’t know what I was saying, and I sure as hell didn’t think he’d actually do anything about it, but then he was pulling those lovely fingers out of me and shoving my pants down to mid-thigh. I still thought he was kidding, until I heard his fucking zipper.
“Dom!” I hissed.
“You asked, sweetheart. And I’m giving it to you. I live to give you what you want, Ally.” He growled the words against my neck as he bent his knees and lined up that satin-smooth crown with my center.
“Hold still,” he ordered.
I went stock-still and held my breath for good measure. He gave one short, sharp thrust and sank into me. The angle allowed for only shallow penetration, but holy hell was it good enough for me. Apparently for Dom, too, because he brought one hand to my belly and the other under my sweatshirt to dip into my sports bra.
He teased me with shallow thrusts while tugging at my nipple.
“I love that you want me this badly.” He grunted his confession in my ear. “You’re always so wet like you’ve been thinking about me as much as I think about you.”
“I do,” I promised.
I did. I would have been willing to bet more.
His thrusts were coming faster now. Short, jerky motions that turned me on to no end. There was no real satisfaction for me in this position, but I knew Dominic would always take care of me.
“I want to come, Ally. Will you let me?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I hissed.
It was all he needed. He moved, releasing my breast and pressing me against the wall, bracing his forearm against my shoulders. He pulled out of me, and I felt the slick, wet slide. I couldn’t tell what he was doing with his free hand. But then I felt the synthetic lace against my ass and knew.
Dominic Russo had my thong wrapped around his hand while he fucked his fist.
My knees went out, but he held me pinned to the wall.
“I’m going to make you come so hard tonight, Ally. My Ally,” he crooned in my ear. The sound of hard, mean strokes on flesh turned me into a ball of need.
I was living out a dark fantasy that had wreaked havoc on my imagination ever since that night I found him in the washroom. This was what I’d wanted then.
“Ally.” He groaned, low and guttural, sliding the head of his cock through my folds.
He came.
Hard.
I felt the first hot burst of it up against my clit, and then he was fucking his way between my ass cheeks, ending at that greedy bundle of nerves. Once, twice, and out of nowhere, my own impossible orgasm took me hostage.
He kept right on nudging my clitoris, kept right on coming. Branding me from front to back with his seed.
Whatever didn’t get soaked up by my underwear, coated my slit, dampened my thighs.
“Baby,” he said, and I felt the final volley of his orgasm explode against that tight ring of muscle between my cheeks.
It was dirty, hedonistic, and downright wrong. I freaking loved it.
“I couldn’t wait,” he panted, making no move to pull back from me. His dick was wedged between my thighs, and he was still making tiny, gentle thrusts.
“Me neither.”
* * *
This was a new, interesting version of the walk of shame for me. Returning to friends we’d abandoned mere minutes ago with dirty, sweaty lust written all over our faces. Even the historically and heroically unreadable Dominic couldn’t hide his smile.
Conversation came to a screeching halt when we returned to our group. Someone had ordered a few bottles of wine, and everyone paused mid-sample to stare at us.
“I told you you should have let me come back down first,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.
“Baby, not on your life. You’re not getting five steps from me before I make you come again,” he intoned back.
“How was the bathroom?” Harry asked with a knowing grin.
“Ally, what are you planning for Dominic’s birthday next month?” Delaney asked, listing dangerously to the left on her barstool. “Have you convinced him to have a party?”
“Your birthday!” I turned to him, visions of birthday cakes dancing in my head.
“No. Absolutely not,” he said emphatically.
“No what?”
“No birthday.”
“Russo here is afraid of getting old,” his friend Kevin chimed in.
“But he just keeps getting better looking,” Missie said, the wine loosening her tongue a bit. “If I were him, I’d be celebrating every year as a sexy milestone.”
“How long were we up there? They’re all shitfaced,” I whispered to Dominic.
“Delaney, I’ve been meaning to ask you where you got your bed linens,” Dominic said.
Harry shot him a dirty look
as Delaney’s hands fluttered to her chest. “I found the most amazing duvets and sheets,” she began.
“Middle finger gif,” Harry coughed into his hand.
58
Dominic
“You’ve got a little spackle right here,” Ally said, gently scraping a finger over my neck just below the ear.
It wasn’t meant to be a come-on, but my dick—as it did with most things related to Ally—took it as such.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with suspicion.
“No reason,” I lied, giving Brownie’s leash a tug so he’d get his face out of the neighbor’s flower bed. “Where are we going again?”
“Ice cream,” she said, cheerfully taking my free hand and pulling me down the sidewalk.
“Who goes for ice cream in the middle of winter?” I asked gruffly. We’d spent five straight hours drywalling the bathroom in her father’s house because the only help she would accept from me was from my own two hands and not my bank account.
I could have hired someone, a crew of someones, and it would have been done while I went down on my girlfriend. But no, Ally “Do It Yourself” Morales drew the line at the wallet. So instead of spending our precious weekend naked and in bed like I wanted to, we did our best impression of HGTV weekend warriors.
Turns out, I wasn’t half bad at drywall. However, I still would have preferred Plan A. The naked in bed thing.
“It’s in the mid-thirties. This is practically a heat wave,” she said, flashing a grin up at me. “Consider it a celebration of surviving the fallout.”
We’d made it through the first week post-relationship announcement. The last few days consisted mostly of conversations cutting off mid-sentence when I entered the room and me wondering when the whiplash workers’ comp claims would start pouring in from people pretending not to look at us.
But we were officially dating and both still employed. Besides the home improvement eating into our quality naked time, everything was going well.