by Gloria Foxx
“I need to be there by 8:30. We start serving at 10:30. You wanna come along?”
“Yeah. It sounds cool and mom’s dinner isn’t until three.”
We talked about school and the upcoming break. We monopolized our table for nearly two hours, getting to know each other without the enforced intimacy of privacy. Then we noticed the staff waiting to leave for their holiday and needed to leave.
“Would you like an official tour at the house? I’m the man for the job.”
“That would be nice, as long as I don’t run into Joey.”
“No worries. Joey was asked to leave. I was there for his departure.”
“Then lead the way.”
Maybe I’d see his room. I wondered if it would be clean and tidy or disorganized. I imagined it would smell just like him. The earthy male scent combined with clean soap and something spicy that might be cologne or maybe it was just Dominic.
As it turned out, Dominic knew a lot about the 19th century Renaissance Revival style house, or should I say mansion. He pointed out beautiful stained glass windows. Secret panels and passageways built for discrete servant access. There were fiber texture wall panels, beautiful carved-stone fireplaces, heavy pocket doors, elaborate light fixtures and ornate woodwork.
Dominic seemed nearly reverent while highlighting these features, almost as if he could see inner beauty untouched by the ravages of time and careless college students.
As I had hoped, the tour ended in Dominic’s room. He had a tiny room on the second floor at the top of the stairs. It was probably a trunk storage room or linen room for servant use somewhere back in the grand history of the old house. He wasn’t at all embarrassed by the size of his room, grinning while saying, “I would sleep on the sofa for free room and board.”
He’d made the most of the small space, fitting in a full-size bed on the wall left of the door, with an overstuffed armchair at the foot, just to my left. The opposite wall held a wardrobe, desk and low table with a flat screen that could be turned toward the bed or armchair. There was just enough room to walk between.
While I couldn’t see it with the door open, a floor lamp was tucked behind the door. The desk was mostly clear with only his laptop and a stack of books, although a backpack hung from the desk chair and even more books were stacked haphazardly on the floor nearby.
His iPad was on a small chest with three drawers sitting in front of the room’s only window. It served as a night table and a dresser. There was a mirror just inside the door and a large poster of a McLaren over the desk. A framed picture over the TV showed a guy with a car engine where his brain should be, a motor head. I guess he was a car guy. Other than the car stuff, it was exactly as I imagined and a reflection of the Dominic I knew.
“You can have the chair.” He motioned me to the armchair while he pulled out the desk chair across from me. Our knees were only inches apart, a testament to the size of the room.
Chapter 15
I was nervous and uncertain. I looked down to my hands in my lap. If I looked into his eyes, I would be sucked into him and I didn’t know what to say or do so I controlled myself by keeping my distance.
As if he could read my mind, Dominic grasped my hand. “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. We can watch TV, play Xbox, talk, or kiss.”
He said the last, hesitantly, with a shy smile.
I didn’t say anything. I was too nervous.
“Talk it is,” he said. “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“I told you before I’m volunteering at the meal program. I’ll eat there.”
Dominic slapped his hand to his forehead. “I am such a moron! I practically invited myself to your Thanksgiving, without even thinking to invite you to mine. So, would you like to come?”
I was taken off guard. I had never spent Thanksgiving with a family. Even when mom was alive it was just the two of us. I didn’t know what to think.
“C’mon, say yes. You’ll love my family. We have a nice traditional family Thanksgiving, without the stereotypical fighting I hear about from everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, we have our share of sibling infighting and bickering, but no Thanksgiving drama.”
“Tell me about your family.”
I think I’ve already mentioned I have two brothers and one sister. My brother Dave is the oldest, then me, then my sister Donna and finally Darin.”
“Awww, alliteration. That’s sweet. I wish I had a brother or sister, Adam, April, Alex, Angela.” We laughed, but I was wistful.
“Aren’t my folks clever? Dave’s wife Sarah and son Noah will be there too, as will my aunt and uncle, Pat and Frank. Pat is my aunt in case you’re wondering. My uncle Ollie will be there. He hasn’t married. Personally I think he’s gay, but he’s never said. Maybe he likes to keep his own company. That makes eleven and you would make twelve. Say yes.”
A real family with three generations under one roof, celebrating a holiday, it was like a dream. “Yes. I’ll come. What time, where and what should I wear?”
“Shirt, dress pants, sweater, dress. Nice church clothes, but not evening wear. Dinner is at three, we usually arrive by two-thirty. We should leave by two-fifteen.”
“Wow your family lives close.”
“Sometimes too close. I’ve tried to maintain my independence, but when they’re right here, it’s easy for them to butt in and for me to rely on them a little too much.”
“Still, it sounds nice.”
“Hey, would you like to dance?”
“Here? There’s barely room to walk.”
“Either here, where we have some privacy or down in the foyer where we have more room.”
“I think here,” I said, opting for privacy. Maybe he’d already thought that through.
Dominic stood pushing his chair under the desk, making as much room as possible. He closed the door before turning on some low, slow music and then he held out his hand.
I took it and he pulled me close. My head fit perfectly under his chin. I could smell that unique intriguing scent that is Dominic and hear the steady seductive beating of his heart under my ear.
As we swayed slowly, I realized I wanted to tell him. “Dominic?”
“Hmmm?”
“Can I tell you about my mom?”
“Sure.”
He was warm and comfortable pressed against my body. We had to press close in the small space. For some reason Dominic made me feel sheltered, secure. A sensation I haven’t felt since that fateful night when I was six.
“She was beautiful, my mom. She attracted attention wherever she went.”
“You’re beautiful too. You try to hide it though. I can tell.”
“I suppose. Mom was beautiful on the inside too. Everyone loved her. She was bright and shiny, sparkly. People would call her vivacious. I didn’t know what that meant then. Our personalities are very different.”
“Aunt Jane didn’t raise her, did she?”
“No,” I said wistfully.
“Well there you go. We’re affected by our environments. Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.”
“Mom was raised by her parents, but they died in a car crash when she was twenty, just after I was born. Mom always said she was glad they had a chance to meet me.”
“What Happened?”
“A drunk driver wiped them out on their way home from a dance. They danced all the time, old fashioned ballroom dancing. Mom had a lot of photos. I guess they danced wonderfully together.”
“I’m glad they had a chance to meet you and sad you didn’t really have a chance to know them.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m sad too.” As we swayed, I marveled at how easy he was to talk to. The seductive rumble of his voice in his chest vibrated and rippled through my cheek, reverberating in my ear. I was lethargic, hypnotized by the scent, sound and feel of him. I sucked in a deep breath.
“Mmmm. You smell nice.” I said. I was completely distracted, forgetting about my mom and wha
t happened to her.
“You smell nice too. I could dance with you forever.” He kissed the top of my head, but it wasn’t like a parent might kiss a child, it was much more provocative and his lips vibrated in my hair as he hummed, or maybe he moaned.
“I won’t be your first, will I?” I asked, afraid that if neither of us knew what to do it might be a disaster.
“No. You’re not my first.”
Wow. Was he putting me on or is that how he really felt? Girls talk and apparently men will do anything to get in your pants. Actually, I felt like I might do anything to get into his pants too, if only I knew what to do.
“What I mean is, do you know what to do, because I have no idea.” Man, this is uncomfortable and embarrassing. I’m going to stop talking now.”
I buried my face in the curve of his neck, cheeks flaming. My heart was pounding right out of my chest. I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat too.
And then he made the embarrassment go away. Everything would be okay.
“Let’s not worry about experience or first time. That’s too much pressure. You’re a beautiful woman and I’d like to make love to you, whether it’s your first or fiftieth time, whether it’s today or ten weeks from today.”
He wanted to make love to me? On the inside I said, “Yippee!” On the outside I blushed, embarrassed, hiding my face against his chest yet again.
“Let’s start slow and see where it goes. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. We’ll get there when we’re ready.”
He held my right hand pressed to his chest and as we swayed he dipped his head to kiss my knuckles. I didn’t think guys did that any more.
I tipped my head back, gazing at him and was lost in the depth of his dark eyes sparkling with those incredible copper highlights.
My heart was jumping around in my chest. My breathing was ragged and it was getting warm in here. I pulled his hand toward me and kissed his knuckles. He rubbed his thumb across my lips. It was just our hands yet it seemed so intimate.
Chapter 16
Dominic laced his fingers with mine and pulled me to the chair. I was uncertain. I didn’t understand what he wanted. I wasn’t at all confident about kissing him and that’s what I really wanted to do. “What?” I said in a whisper.
He moved behind me, sitting in the chair and pulling me down on his lap. “Don’t worry. Let me show you and if there’s anything you want to do, just try it. If you like it, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Then he moved me sideways on his lap, with my legs draped over the chair arm on one side and my back leaning against the opposite arm. He was right. With almost no pressure and seemingly without my knowledge, he moved me around at will. My butt was nestled on his lap, slipping slightly between his thighs. I could feel his erection pressing against my bottom. Mmm. I like this.
Dominic had one arm behind my back and the other draped across my middle, stroking up and down my left arm. I was submerged in his gaze again. It was compelling. Was copper magnetic? His eyes were drawing me in. I was immobilized, helpless to look away. I stared at him with my lips parted. When I couldn’t take the tension anymore, I just had to move. I bit my lip in uncertainty, but reached out to him anyway.
I slid my hand up his arm while his skimmed across my back, caressing in light circles as he went. We stared at each other, engrossed. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Blushing, I murmured, “Thank you.”
“That was a nice thank you, but you look doubtful.”
“I guess that’s because I am. There are a lot if things about me that aren’t beautiful. I’m shy, inexperienced, nervous, uncertain. That seems awkward, not beautiful.”
“Are you done? All those things they are all a part of the enigma that is you. They’re part of the girl who looks out for a friend. They’re the emotions I see flitting across an honest face, shared with the world. Before I’m done with you, you’re going to realize how strong you truly are.”
I picked up the gauntlet, intrigued by what he might mean. “You think I’m strong?”
The hand that had been tracing circles across my back throughout our exchange moved to my nape. He shoved his fingers into my hair, tugging slightly to tip my head back until our eyes met again. My hand, now resting at his shoulder, pulled tentatively, drawing my shoulders toward him. I wanted to believe I was strong, but I wasn’t so sure.
Dominic dipped his head to mine, breath smelling of coffee drifting across my face. His lips met mine, brushing across, yet barely touching, back and forth, like butterfly wings. I didn’t breathe then, waiting for more. When it didn’t come, I pulled myself to his lips, taking more.
I angled my lips against his, opening to his bottom lip and gently sucking it between mine, then the top lip before going back to the bottom. It was just a kiss yet I was voracious for more. He held me close and opened his mouth to me. My tongue was tentative. His was not.
He explored my mouth, stroking, sipping, ravishing. Our kiss continued and the world fell away. I was adrift, seeing and hearing nothing … feeling everything.
Feeling the gentle tug on my hair as he moved my head for better access to my mouth, feeling the lazy circles and whorls his fingers created on my hip and thigh before they moved down to my butt cheek. Then the gentle stroking became more forceful until he was clutching at me, grasping, pulling me closer.
I could feel what I was doing too, the soft knit fabric of his shirt beneath my fingertips, the heat radiating from his shoulder and upper back where my hand gripped him. Even my hand trapped between us could feel the hard plane of his stomach, the ridges of his abs, the beat of his heart.
His free hand moved from my hip, slipping under my shirt and gliding up my side. My stomach muscles jumped and twitched at the contact, until his thumb stilled curled around the lower curve of my breast. Then it skated up and across, scraping across my nipple through my bra. My breath caught. He stroked back, grazing again and my breath came out in a whoosh.
I needed more. I pulled one hand from his shoulder and struggled with the other trapped between us. I grasped the bottom of my shirt and peeled it up over my torso. My head and shoulders came free and I tossed my shirt away.
With the slight shift in my position, his hand was back at my hip.
“Kneel on the seat,” he said.
I was basically cradled between the arms of the chair so I pulled my heels to my butt and with Dominic’s help, levered myself to a kneeling position. Unfortunately I ended up straddling the wide rolled arm of the chair with one knee between his legs on the seat and the other dangling in midair.
We laughed as I lowered my foot to the floor. He guided my right knee to the other side of his lap, making room for my left. Now I was straddling his lap, with my butt on his thighs. My inner heat was pressed against his groin and I could feel him pressing intimately against me.
We chuckled together in spite of our new and more arousing position. I was surprised to find humor in intimacy.
I reached out, grasping the bottom of his shirt and tugging upward. I curled my fingers around the bare skin on his side as the shirt moved out of my way. I slid my hands up, moving the shirt until it stopped at his underarms. I groaned in disappointment. I wanted to feel him, just like his hands were skimming across my back and up and down my sides.
“Take it off for me,” he commanded.
He meant my bra. And I took it off. My breasts were thrust in his direction as I reached back for the clasp. My nipples stood out, poking through the thin fabric of my bra like miniature missiles aimed in his direction.
I unhooked the clasp, but didn’t immediately pull it off. I was still uncertain. No man except my doctor had ever seen my breasts.
“You’re beautiful. I’m sure your breasts are beautiful too. Go ahead, take it off.”
My breasts are round and a little heavy and my nipples are even harder now, if that’s possible.
He hooked his finger into the divider in the valley between the cups and pulled d
own until the dragging fabric caught on my bulging nipples. I moaned at the rasping simultaneous tug on both. I wiggled my arms, letting the straps drop down to my elbows and my nipples sprang free.
He abandoned my bra then, wrapping his hands around the globes of flesh, kneading, squeezing and watching as my nipples distended even further, attracted to him as if pulled. The tension was coiled within me. I was holding my breath in anticipation, waiting.
He tugged on my breasts, pulling me to him, in reach of his tongue. He licked. The tip of his tongue caught on my nipple and the breath rushed out of me. Then he licked the other and back again, slow languorous laps that added to the tension without providing any real relief.
“Tell me what you want?”
“Oh please. Pleeeese.” It came out in a whine as I slid up his lap, pushing my breasts in his direction.
“Tell me,” he said again firmly.
“I don’t know,” I cried. I couldn’t help myself as I slid the heat building in my center up his groin. He exhaled between his teeth with a hiss. I could feel him cradled against me, against my steamy heat. He could slip right in, but for our jeans.
And then he was there, drawing my nipple into his mouth, sucking deep and pulling on the sensitive peak. I moaned, the sound coming from down low in my chest as flame licked through me, scorching me from within.
“Was that it?” he demanded as his finger and thumb rolled the other nipple, plucking at it and pinching slightly.
I flung my head back, thrusting my breasts to the suction that was his mouth. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Please. More.” I couldn’t form coherent sentences.
What was it about this guy. The sensations he created sucking, laving and blowing cool air across my nipples had me squirming against him, grinding into him. Every pull on my nipples created a corresponding pull low in my belly and gush of moisture oozing from my core.
I had my hands around his shoulders and they slid into his hair, pulling him toward my breasts every time he pulled away. It was heaven.
Chapter 17