He’s not the only one that’s not happy about moving out. My heart’s pretty gutted too. The last few days have been… Amazing. Magical. Entirely unexpected.
But the longer I stay, the more I want to willfully forget what Dom promised—off-the-charts-hot sex—and what he said he specifically didn’t offer—anything resembling a relationship.
After just four days in his company, I don’t want to leave. If I linger, if I stay a few more days, I’ll just be prolonging the agony. It’s better this way. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Might hurt like crap, but one quick, sharp burst of pain, and it’s over.
“Be reasonable,” I tell him. “I can’t stay here permanently.”
He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “At least let me come with you,” he says. “You need help with your luggage.”
“Dom, I have one suitcase. This thing is far lighter than the sacks of grain I move around on a daily basis. I’ll be fine.” I can’t resist kissing him for what might be the last time. I’m very conscious that we haven’t made plans for this evening, or for any other evening this week. While I was living at his place, we just fell into togetherness. We didn’t need to give what was going on between us a name.
Now I’m leaving. And I’m not going to be needy and weepy all over him. I’m not going to cling to him, doing my best barnacle imitation. He knows where I live. It’s going to have to be good enough.
Four days. That’s all it took for me to get sucked in.
Last night, I’d asked him for advice. It’s not something I do readily. Seven years in the brewing industry has made me wary of guys who like to mansplain. Male customers who know nothing about beer have walked up to me to tell me their suggestions on how to improve our line. “You should lower your prices,” the most recent idiot had proclaimed. “Revenue is unit price times volume. If your beer is cheaper, more people will buy it.”
I’d refrained from pointing out that we couldn’t increase the amount of beer we produced. Our tanks were at capacity. We sold everything we made.
Everyone has an opinion to offer. Dom’s good at keeping his thoughts to himself, but when he’d told me what he thought, I’d realized that he was right. I am resentful that Vicki gets to spend a week in the cottage while I labor away in the brewpub. I don’t want to call her in the middle of her time with Liam to unload all over her, but I will clear the air when she gets into town. As Dom said, I owe it to our friendship.
Lost in thought, I turn into Sandra’s driveway. Grabbing my suitcase out of the back seat, I pick my way through the mossy path that leads to my cottage.
And then I stop dead.
On Friday, the cottage had been falling to pieces. A faded tarp had been draped over the roof. The outer walls were chipped and peeling. A couple of the wooden boards were rotten. The window frame didn’t fit the opening properly, and the window stuck. There had been a deck in the front, but half the floorboards had been missing.
The cottage in front of me has been transformed. The exterior walls are freshly sanded and stained. The roof looks brand new. The wood pile is stacked with firewood, and every rotten floorboard on the deck has been replaced.
There’s even a deck chair, with cheerfully striped blue and white cushions.
The transformation continues in the interior. The window has been replaced. The cantankerous wood stove is gone, replaced by one that’s fire-engine red and shiny new. There’s a fresh coat of gleaming white paint on the walls. A bed, built into the wall, with storage underneath. More shelving on the adjacent wall. The portable stove now sits at waist-level, and next to it, there’s a butcher-block counter. A small table and two chairs round out the cabin.
No more sleeping on the floor. No more kneeling on the ground over the stove to make a cup of cocoa. This place isn’t a wreck anymore. It’s a snug, cozy home.
Dom did this.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” I jump. I’d been so busy drinking in the changes that I hadn’t heard Sandra walk up.
“Umm, yeah.” I don’t have words for how touched I am. Any moment, I know I’m going to burst into tears. Nobody has ever done something so nice for me in my entire life.
She gives me a sidelong smile. “I’ve been trying to get Dom to fix these cabins up for years,” she says. “Ever since he moved back to town, as a matter of fact.” Her smile widens. “All it took was you coming along to get them fixed.”
My heart leaps in my chest, and I push it back in place. “I don’t think that’s what it is,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going to pry. My son will never let me hear the end of it if I’m nosy.” She pantomimes running a zipper across her lips. “Dom told me you were using paper plates,” she continues. “I have a box of old china in my basement, and now you even have shelves to store them. When you get a chance, come by and pick them up?”
“Thank you, Sandra. I’d love to.”
I go to the brewpub. I check the fermentation tanks, then open the boxes of glassware that came in yesterday. I hold a pint glass up in the air. The Madison logo, the one Vicki and I designed together—two women standing back to back, holding up matching pints of beer in the air—is etched into one side.
It’s the first thing I’ve seen with our logo. I’ve been working really hard all month, but holding this glass makes it feel real for the first time.
“Hey.” Dom’s voice sounds near my ear. I jump, and the glass goes flying out of my hand, but before it crashes to the floor and shatters into a million tiny pieces, Dom catches it with a grin and hands it to me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.”
I texted him in the morning to thank him. He’d responded with a wink. I don’t think Dominic Wilde likes effusive gratitude. Too bad. “Thank you so much. The cabin is amazing.”
“No worries, spitfire.” He bends his head down and kisses me. “I dropped by to see what you were doing this evening.”
My heartbeat stutters. “I’d planned on making dinner in my brand-new kitchen.”
He rolls his eyes. “I put in a length of countertop, Cat. I didn’t make you a kitchen. My buddy Luke wants me to grab a beer with him and his wife Ruby. You want to join us?”
He wants me to meet his friends? “Are you sure?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Would I ask you if I wasn’t? The Bull Horn doesn’t have much by way of beer, but their nachos are pretty damn good, and they do a mean burger.”
“Sold.” I move closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m very grateful,” I purr into his ear. “I should show you exactly how appreciative I am.” I move my hands to his belt buckle. “Do you have to be anywhere?” I murmur. “Because I can lock the front door…” I slide his belt off and unbutton his jeans, and then I reach inside his briefs and wrap my fingers around his rapidly thickening cock.
He throws his head back and groans. “Cat, you’re killing me here.”
“Is that a yes?”
His dark eyes bore into me. “That’s a yes, kitty cat. Get on your knees, put your hands behind your back, and take me down your throat.”
My nipples harden, and my insides tingle. “Yes, Dom,” I say meekly, and then I do exactly what he tells me to.
Luke’s a tall guy with a receding hairline. Ruby is a curvy brunette with a friendly smile. The two of them survey me curiously as we squeeze into a booth. “Luke, Ruby, Cat,” Dom introduces us with a wave of his hand.
“It’s so good to meet you,” Ruby says. “Everyone’s talking about the new brewpub.”
It’s a sign of how much being around Dom relaxes me that I don’t flinch and mentally review my to-do list in case I’ve forgotten to do something. “That’s good, I hope.” I smile back at Ruby. “I’m very excited about being here.”
The waitress comes around with four menus. “There’s a rib special,” she says. “You guys want something to drink to start?”
Dom gives me a teasing look. “Can you brave a mass-market beer, kitty cat?”
I laugh. “As long as we get the extra-large plate of nachos.”
Luke and Ruby exchange glances as Dom orders a pitcher of beer and a platter of nachos with extra cheese, extra jalapenos, and guacamole on the side. Just the way I like it. “This is so great,” Luke booms once the waitress leaves. “It’s not often that we get to meet one of Dom’s ladies.” He gives his friend a nudge. “They don’t usually last long enough.”
Ruby gives her husband a death glare. Dom winces. “Will you cut it out?” he mutters. “If you must talk about me, say nice things.”
Luke laughs heartily. I get the feeling that he’s already had a beer or two at home. “Oh, I am. If I were being mean, I’d warn Cat away.” He winks at me. “All the married guys envy Dom,” he says, an edge in his voice. “No woman has ever succeeded in trapping him. Hell, I don’t think Dom’s ever had a relationship last longer than a month, have you, buddy?”
Dom’s jaw tightens. For a second, I think he’s going to punch his so-called friend. Then he forces a smile on his face. “Our beer is here,” he says. “Let’s drink. Tell me what’s been happening with you.”
After that disastrous beginning, the evening gets better. Luke has a tendency to blurt out whatever is on his mind, and he’s got a weird competitive vibe going on, but Ruby is really nice. We bond over our love for campy eighties science fiction movies—My Stepmother is an Alien, The Last Starfighter, even Dune. Dom listens to me wax eloquent for a while and then shakes his head in fond exasperation. “You’ve seen the Last Starfighter, but you hadn’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I weep for your priorities, little spitfire.”
“My Stepmother is an Alien is an underrated classic.”
He laughs and wraps his arm around my waist. “I’ve seen it, baby. I beg to differ.”
Two pitchers later, we call it a night. Dom walks me out. “I’m sorry about that,” he murmurs. “Luke has an exaggerated view of my life…”
I’ve been ruminating about what his friend said all evening. It’s been sobering. This morning, when I saw the renovations Dom had done on the cabin, I’d been starry-eyed and foolish and optimistic, and I’d hoped that our relationship could grow to something more than just casual sex.
Then I heard Dom’s own friend say that he doesn’t stick around. That his relationships don’t last. And I realized that I’ve been allowing my emotions to blind me to the truth.
It’s not Dom’s fault. From the start, he’s been completely honest with me. No, this one’s on me. I let love blind me to the truth, just as I did with Will. Vicki hated my ex-boyfriend, but I thought I was in love, and I wouldn’t listen to her.
In love? You’re not in love with Dom. Are you?
I shy away from that thought. Dom’s watching me with a troubled look on his face. Any moment now, he’s going to say something polite and distant, and run the hell away from me.
He had one rule. No commitment.
“There’s nothing to apologize about.” I keep my voice light. “See you around?”
He puts his hand on my elbow, stopping me. “Come to my place, kit cat.”
I should say no. I should rip off the Band-Aid and start the process of healing. But Dom’s looking at me with heat in his eyes, and I can’t resist. “Will you show me your newest smutty furniture?”
His lips twitch, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “If that’s what you’d like.”
Keep this about sex. About dirty, filthy, smutty sex. No emotions, no tenderness. Just good, old-fashioned kink.
“I would.”
He laces his fingers in mine. “In that case, let’s go.”
Alan Ruck kicked his stepfather’s Ferrari over and over again. I have no one to kick except myself.
20
Cat
Lust, not laughter. Desire, not passion. I can do this.
I lace my fingers with Dom’s and press my body up against his. “Show me the bed.”
Dom chuckles. “So demanding.” He leads the way to a corner of his workshop. “Here it is.”
I fall silent. Slowly, I walk around the contraption. I run my fingers along three circular holes, set shoulder-high. “Are these stocks?”
“Yes.” He gives me a sidelong look. “Are you scared, or are you turned on?”
A little bit out of column A, a little bit out of column B.
“I think stocks might be a little too intense for me,” I say carefully. “What do you think?”
He gives me an intent look. “I agree. Stocks aren’t suitable for a beginner. It takes a lot of control to keep from moving. To keep perfectly still when I push a finger between your legs. When I tweak your nipples. When I smack your ass.”
A fire starts to simmer inside me. Each word Dom utters stokes it higher. “What would you do instead?”
“I’d tie you up on my bed.” He whispers the words into my ear, and then he nibbles on my earlobe, sending a shiver of desire through me. He tugs my hair back and kisses me on the lips, brief but passionate. “Do you want to play hard tonight, kitty cat?”
I stare at him with mingled nerves and fascination. “Hard enough to sting. Not hard enough to leave marks.”
I shiver again. At his tone, stern and implacable. At his words, dark and delicious and infinitely tempting. When it comes to sex, I trust Dom completely. I trust him to wait for my consent. To stop when I ask him to.
“Yes.” I hold my hands out in front of me, wrists together. “Tie me up, Dom.”
He takes me upstairs, leading me by my shoulders to his bedroom. “Take off your clothes, Cat. Lie on the bed, on your back.”
I kick off my shoes. Then I take off my socks. My sweater follows, and then my shirt. I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my hips.
His voice cracks out an order. “Stop.”
I stop in place, clad only in my bra and panties. Plain black cotton. I’m not fancy. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” His lips turn up in a smile. “A beautiful half-naked woman is standing in front of me. I’m just enjoying the view.”
I blush, suddenly shy. “Stop it.”
“When someone compliments you, the appropriate response is to thank them, little spitfire,” he says sternly. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” His gaze sweeps over me, warm with appreciation, hot with lust. “A beautiful half-naked woman is standing in front of me. I’m just enjoying the view.”
My cheeks flame. “Thank you, Dom.”
“Good girl.” He looks at me for another long, lingering second. “Take off the rest of your clothes.”
I strip completely and get on the bed, lying on my back and staring up at him. “Why am I the only one naked?” I grumble. “If you get to ogle me, I want to ogle you too.”
He chuckles and lifts his t-shirt over his head. Those six-pack abs come into view, and I swear I drool a little. I wait for him to take off his pants as well, but much to my disappointment, he doesn’t.
“Spread your arms and legs,” he says, laughing a little at my pout. “I’m going to tie you up.”
“Yes please.”
“So eager.” He opens a dresser drawer and pulls four pink scarves out.
“Pink’s not exactly your color, is it?” I quip.
“They match your hair.” He climbs on the bed and wraps the end of one scarf around my wrist.
“You got them for me?” I don’t know why I find the idea of Dom going shopping for scarves to tie me up and picking the pink ones because they match my hair, so sweet.
“Why does that surprise you, Cat?” He ties the other end of the scarf to the foot of his bed.
I don’t reply, and he doesn’t push me for an answer.
Quickly and efficiently, he ties me in a spread-eagle position, his fingers caressing the nape of my neck when he’s done. “Any time you want me to stop, you tell me, okay? Any time you want me to untie you, you let me know.”
I nod, keen anticipation running through my blood. “Got it.”
“Good.” His
smile widens. The bed dips as he positions himself at my side. “Now, I get to have some fun.”
His hand moves over my mound. His fingers brush my pussy, his touch feather light. I grit my teeth and shift in my bindings and try to get him to touch me again, touch me harder.
“If you move,” he warns, “I will stop. But if you’re a good girl, and you stay patient, I will make you come.”
His voice, stern and sexy, sends a thrill of lust through me. My nipples pebble and my skin breaks out in goosebumps. I know he’s capable of stopping; for an easy-going guy, Dom has scary levels of self-control.
And I really want to come…
His fingers caress my inside thighs. I want to arch toward him, but I clench my hands into fists and stay still. He reaches over my body and brushes my nipples lightly.
“Harder,” I beg. He said I couldn’t move. He didn’t say anything about talking.
His hand grips my breast, hard enough that the pleasure is accompanied by a slight tinge of pain. His eyes rest on me, assessing my reaction. I nod slightly, giving him permission to proceed.
Hard enough to sting, he’d said. I want it.
He squeezes it again, harder this time. His harshness sends a tingle of pure unadulterated lust shooting down to my pussy. “Yes,” I breathe, arching toward him. “Yes, please. Do that again.”
He moves his hand away. “What were the rules again, Cat?”
Crap. “I have to stay still.”
“Mmm.” He swats the side of my ass. I jump, more surprised than shocked. A thrill of forbidden pleasure runs through me. I can’t believe he just spanked me. I can’t believe I liked it. “Do as you’re told.”
He sucks my nipple into his mouth. So good. He alternates from nipple to nipple, grazing the tender nubs with his teeth and rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger until they ache with the sweetest of aches, and each brush over them sends heat through me.
I fight to stay still as his tongue paints a path between my breasts, then finds my other nipple. Back and forth, over and over. By the time he pulls away from them, they throb and ache, pulsing with a need that echoes in my core.
Hard Wood (Hard n' Dirty Book 3) Page 11