I lay the brown sugar chicken with baby carrots down, one in front of Brit and another in my empty space, careful not to knock over the candles in the middle of the table. Then I grab the bottle of red wine I set out and pour us both a glass. Brit watches me with wide-open eyes, excited and full of wonder. I want to laugh at her – or, with her, would be a better way to put it. There’s something contagious about her spirit.
“Alright,” I say. “Bon Appetite.”
Brit picks up her knife and fork and cuts off a bite, popping it into her mouth in a way that makes mine water. “Mmm,” she says, closing her eyes for a moment in appreciation. “That’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her, digging in. I knew it would be good. With no one else to cook for all this time, I’ve made an art of cooking for myself, to stop it from getting boring. It’s only a short step from being bored with food to eating microwave meals all the time, and I wanted to keep in shape. I always make sure that I eat nutritious, delicious dishes.
Now I guess I have someone to share them with.
“How was yesterday’s call-out? You were still out when I went home,” Brit asks.
We launch into conversation easily. At first just about work – the thing we have in common more than anything else. Of course, we also have Cyrus in common, but neither of us wants to bring him up. I’m pleased to see that Brit’s cell stays firmly in the tiny purse she brought with her, if it’s even in there at all – I don’t want any more interruptions. Not tonight.
“That was so good,” Brit moans, as she lays down her knife and fork for the last time. “I never knew you could cook like that.”
“That’s not all,” I inform her, reaching for her plate to stack it on top of mine and take it away. “I have a chocolate tart waiting in the oven.”
“What did you just call me?” Brit asks, a spark in her eyes that lets me know she’s joking.
I burst out laughing. It’s not often I can find someone who can keep up with my sense of humor. I guess we spent so much time going back and forth when she was a teen that she got into the habit. “I’ll grab dessert.”
“Wait,” she says, reaching for my wrist. I put the dirty dishes back down on the table, waiting. “I need a little break first. We already ate so much.”
I would apologize for my serving size, but she didn’t need to clear the whole plate. And besides, from the way she’s looking at me, I don’t think she really means it. I think she means she wants to skip dessert and go straight to the real main course.
“Why don’t we get a little exercise, clear some room in your stomach?” I ask, grinning wickedly.
“What did you have in mind?” Brit blinks up at me. Like the picture of innocence. I stifle a laugh.
“How about some dancing?” I hold out my hand, and she takes it, looking surprised.
I call out a voice command, and my smart speakers start playing a playlist I put together earlier. Sensual, hot, Latin music. The kind you can dance to – and then take it to the bedroom without pause.
I spin her into my arms, earning a yelp of surprise combined with a happy grin. Yes, this is going to go very nicely indeed. Her dress hikes up a little at her hips, and my cock jumps in my pants in time to the music. It’s all I can do not to just rip it off her there and then – but I want to build this up and do it right.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brittany
It’s a good thing Dom suggested we dance, because I can’t bear to keep still. My pulse is jumping so fast he must be able to see it bursting out of my chest like in cartoons. My hands are shaking. It’s not nerves – alright, maybe a little – but it’s mostly just need. Desire. Something I’ve never felt so strongly before.
I turn my back against Dom and continue dancing, not feeling at all awkward or weird. Sometimes dancing can be like that, especially when it’s just two of you, but he’s dancing too and we feel completely in sync. My hips sway in time with the music, and he moves side to side on the same beat, moving us closer together until I’m grinding up against him. I can feel something hard against my ass. Something that makes my heart flutter up into my throat with anticipation.
Then there’s something else between us – his wide hands, sweeping over the curves of my ass and stroking, over and over again, in time to the music. I find myself leaning forwards just a little, pushing my ass back into his hands, silently begging him for more.
Dom’s hands move fast, just a little flick at each of my hips, and then the fabric of my dress shoots up to my waist as if it has been released from an elastic band. I don’t have the time to feel nervous about him looking at the fine lace of the panties I picked out for tonight, or seeing my ass sway in front of him. His hands are on me again, and the sensation sweeps all other thoughts out of my mind. I just want his hands on me – all over me.
As if he can read my mind, Dom’s hands move up to my breasts, massaging them through the thin fabric of my dress. I knew I was right to go without a bra tonight. The fabric of the dress just about holds them from bouncing all over the place, and his touch on me, without a bra in the way this time, is divine. He tweaks my nipples playfully, then returns his fingers to cup my ass again, brushing them quickly and gently across the back of my pussy from behind before continuing to squeeze and stroke.
I’m about to explode, to let the words stream out of my mouth and beg him to do whatever he wants so long as he keeps touching me, when I feel his fingers hook around the lace of my panties at each side of my hips. I hold my breath as he slowly drags them down, uncovering me inch by inch, then letting them drop to the floor.
I’ve never been so exposed. I step out of them and kick them away. I want this so bad.
Dom’s fingers dip between my legs, finding me slick and waiting. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed to be so wet already, but I don’t want to be. His gentle moan in my ear as his fingers explore only makes me want to spread my legs wider and let him do what he wants.
Dom spins me around without warning, then backs me up until my ass rests on the side of the table. I quickly push the candles away to the other side, just in case and also to cover my surprised nervousness at him seeing me in full. No man has ever been between my legs the way that he is now as he drops to his knees, making me blush and turn my face away so I don’t see him looking at me.
It’s only a moment later that I have to wrench my eyes back, to see what he’s doing. Because Dom has his head between my legs, and his tongue is on my labia, hot and wet, in long, smooth strokes from front to back that make my head swim.
“Oh, my god,” I mutter. I’ve heard about this. Read about it. But I’ve never had anyone put their mouth on me like this. Lick me like this. His tongue finds my clit and circles around it, making the muscles in my legs twitch involuntarily at the intensity of the sensation.
Dom says nothing, but doubles down until I’m squirming on his tongue. I can’t even describe what he’s doing to me, I don’t have the words all I know is that it is driving me wild. Then, just when I think it can’t get any better, he pushes one of his fingers inside me and everything intensifies so much more.
Oh, god. It feels so good. I arch my head back, rolling my neck, unable to control myself. I can hardly breath, panting faster and faster in time with the thrusts of his finger, small animal noises coming out of me that I can’t stop.
And, oh – no – it’s going too far. I can barely keep up with the sensations running through me, but I know one thing. I’m close to the edge.
“D-dom,” I try to warn him. “Stop – I’m – I’m going to…”
“That’s the idea,” he says, pulling his mouth away for just one moment. Our eyes meet, and what he sees in my face must reassure him that I want this too – because I do, and then his tongue is on me again, circling and flicking my clit with a vengeance as his fingers carry on their work.
A wave comes to sweep me along in its path, and the only thing I can do is hang onto the table for sheer life as it r
ipples through me, making my legs twitch and my hips buck. Making me feel like I’ve never felt before. Dom’s fingers work through me for a few more moments, making me ride the pleasure to the very end, before he withdraws and watches me with a satisfied expression on his face.
“Wow,” I gasp. Maybe I shouldn’t admit it, but in the moment, I’m so overcome. “No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”
Dom’s expression gathers into a frown, and I instantly know that I’ve said the wrong thing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dom
“What?” I ask. “Never?”
Brit’s eyes are open wide now, and she makes a nervous gesture of her hand, as if wanting to cover up her nakedness. “No,” she says.
“None of your boyfriends in college made you come like that?” I ask, incredulous. Can it really be that someone this smoking hot has never been made to feel like it?
A slow blush spreads across Brit’s face, red and hot. “I’ve… never really had a boyfriend before. Not like that.”
“Like what?” I feel like I’m missing something. “Like, willing to go down on you?”
Brit squirms again, tugging her skirt down a little to cover herself up. I get the feeling that she feels self-conscious about this discussion, for whatever reason. “Like the kind of boyfriend I would have sex with,” she says.
It takes me a moment to process and understand what she’s just said. “Wait,” I say, my thoughts thundering in my ears as I work it out. “You mean, you’re a virgin?”
Brit blushes even deeper than before, then nods silently.
I get to my feet immediately. This isn’t right. I have to stop.
Brit looks at me with a horrified expression, then takes a moment to recover before moving away from the table and pulling her dress down fully. She looks around for her panties for a moment, then seems to hesitate before bending down to pick them up. She isn’t looking at me.
Damn, I handled that badly. I’ve left her feeling awkward and unwanted. That wasn’t my intention.
“Hey,” I say, catching hold of her shoulders and pulling her in towards me. She resists just a small amount at first, but comes into my chest all the same. I hold her just at the right distance so that I can look into her eyes, so that she knows I’m serious. “Brit. Tell me you weren’t expecting to lose your virginity here on my kitchen table. That’s not right.”
She is still avoiding my gaze. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I didn’t want you to know that I’m…inexperienced.”
I want to laugh, and shake her by the shoulders, and also pull her in for a tight embrace so that she feels the comfort I want to give her. She still doesn’t get it. She thinks I’m telling her off. “Brit, look at me.”
I wait for her to slowly turn her eyes up to mine, wide and blue, so big I could go swimming in them.
“This has to be special,” I tell her. “So much more special than this. Just here, at my house, with no ceremony? Come on. You need to be treated like a princess.”
Brit swallows, her eyes brimming with tears. “You still want me?”
I laugh gently. “Of course, I do. Look at you. You’re smoking hot. Smart. Self-possessed. And you chose me? That’s amazing. I’m not going to waste that.”
Brit covers her mouth momentarily, her eyes closing in relief. “Oh, god. I thought you were going to throw me out.”
I laugh again, and bend to kiss her mouth softly as soon as she uncovers it. “Never.”
“So, what now?” she asks, hesitant. She looks up at me from the circle of my arms. It’s all I can do not to devour her there and then, but I’ve made a promise and I’m going to stick to it. As much as I want to make her mine right now, she’s worth, she’s worth doing this right.
“Now we wait for my next day off,” I say. I swipe a kiss onto her brow. “It’s a shame we didn’t talk about this earlier so I could set something up. But you need to give me time. On my next day off, I’ll make sure you’re off the Rota too, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Outside my Dad’s place?” Brit asks, making a face.
I take her point. “A little ways down the road,” I say. “Now, in the meantime, I believe I also promised you a chocolate tart.”
I let go of her, letting her take her seat again as I grab the dirty dishes and return to my original purpose. It’s a pain not to be touching her anymore, but I know that the wait will be worth it, for her even more than for me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brittany
I can barely think about anything else other than Dom. Waiting for him to have his next day off, over a week away – feels almost impossible.
The way he made me feel already was so incredible. I can’t imagine what he might have in store.
Or, I can imagine some of it...and that’s part of the problem. When I sit at my desk and catch sight of him on the other side of the station, I find my mind wandering, remembering his face between my thighs, the things he made me feel. I imagine us on a rose-strewn bed, or swathed in spa robes after a day of pampering. But no matter what the setting, I always imagine his tongue lapping between my legs again.
Because who wouldn’t want to think about that, given how amazing it was.
As for the main event, I can only speculate on how wonderful it will feel. I catch myself looking at his strong arms, remembering how they felt around me. I imagine being pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. And as for the hard rod that I felt between his legs…
With all of this running through my head, it’s no wonder that I’m having a hard time focusing on the paperwork.
Still, I’m getting through it quickly. I find myself eyeing the pile, which only grows by a few sheets each day but has steadily been going down. At the end of each day I spend perhaps thirty minutes refiling all of the physical copies away so that they can be taken to an archive, and all I see is the work left decreasing again and again. What if I get finished before the end of the internship I had planned? Will I not be able to work with Dom anymore?
The thought makes me ache. I thought it would be a bit strange working with Dad, and that I might end up wanting to get away by the end of it, but I never imagined I would feel this way about Dom. Being near him, every day...I don’t want it to end.
As if on cue, my phone lights up on my desk. I just about hold back from rolling my eyes in frustration. Dad keeps calling a couple of times a day, trying to make sure that I’m doing alright. He’s being overprotective, not just because he can’t be here with me but also because he’s stuck at home with nothing to do.
I do wonder, too, whether he might suspect that something is going on. I know I’ve been more secretive, evasive when he asks me about what my day was like. I can’t exactly tell him that it was great for the specific reason that I’m fantasizing about the feel of his best friend’s tongue between my legs.
I avoid the call, switching it to silent and letting it ring out. A sting of guilt lances through my stomach, but I can’t keep lying to him. He must know that I’m keeping something from him by now.
Only a few minutes after the call dies, it starts to ring again. I know he won’t stop calling. I have to talk to him, no matter how bad I feel about not telling him the truth.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, sighing as I pick up the receiver.
“You alright, Cupcake?” he asks immediately, worry in his tone.
“Yeah, of course,” I tell him. I wish he wouldn’t worry about me so much. Both because I’m fine, and because it’s so much more difficult not to tell him how happy I am when I hear him worry.
“I just didn’t know if something was wrong, because you didn’t pick up right away,” he says. I hear him hear himself, then he tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I’m coming on too strong, huh? All I have to entertain myself over here is thinking about ways you could possibly be in danger. Or having a hard time from the guys without me there to warn them off.”
I smile, thinking about Jordan – who tried to do just
that on my first day. “You don’t have to worry, Dad. Dom’s making sure I’m okay. He warned them off pretty good.”
“I knew Dom would look out for you,” Dad says, and I hear his tone brighten. I must have said the right thing to reassure him. “He sees you just like his own daughter, you know. Because he never had any children.”
Those words send a spike of anxiety into my gut. Dom doesn’t see me like his daughter – and if he ever did, he certainly doesn’t anymore. The thought is even sickening. How wrong would it be, if he really felt that way? But I can’t contradict Dad or tell him that Dom feels different. I would have to explain how I knew.
“It’s kind of strange,” I say, instead. I dart a quick glance around me to check that no one can overhear. “Why he never got married.”
I’m only human, after all. I’m curious. Jordan described him as cold and aloof, and he’s never been that way with me. But Dad bringing it up makes a good point. Just exactly why is someone who looks like Dom still single and available? As much as I’m grateful for that fact, it doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense, given how he looks.
“Oh, he’s just a very private person,” Dad says, brushing off the question. “He’s always been that way. Well, since right after we joined the fire service, anyway.”
“And before that?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat. What is this? Some story that I’ve never heard?
“Oh, before that he was young,” Dad says. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. You just get back to work now. And send me a text if you can’t take my call, alright? Just so I know that you’re fine.”
“Sure, Dad,” I say, letting him hang up first.
He was pretty quick to want to get out of that conversation. I wonder if there’s a secret hiding there, something that I’m not supposed to know?
The thought of Dom having a dark secret makes me shudder, and I try to put it out of my mind. There can’t be anything else going on surely?
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