Dom thrusts turned to deep, possessive grinds, and it prolonged the sensation. My mind was totally blank; the noise was finally drowned out by the wet sound of our bodies and his harsh breathing in my ear.
Suddenly, the doorknob jerked.
Every muscle in my body locked up as the handle rattled against the lock.
“Hey,” a woman’s voice called, loud, terrifyingly close. “Are you okay in there?”
6
Eunice
ONE SECOND, MY body was pliant, boneless, shuddering. The next, every muscle seized up like I’d been dunked in ice water.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called, and my lungs stopped working.
The voice was right there, just on the other side of the door, close enough that she’d probably heard everything.
My eyes flew to Dom in the reflection. He was already staring back.
For a heartbeat, I expected him to share my panic, to pull out and help me scramble into my clothes. But instead, the corner of his mouth hooked upward. Then, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back hard enough to make my vision blur.
“I think she wants to hear you, baby.”
Before I could even process what he said, he dragged himself out again, and whirled me around so my back was against the cold tiles.
I blinked up at him, disoriented. My jeans and panties were still tangled around one ankle until his foot hooked them, stripping them away in one kick.
Then he sank to his knees, pressing his face to my stomach, right over my navel, breathing me in.
“What are you…” I said, but the question died when he started nudging my knees apart, forcing them wider with his shoulders.
“Open.” His voice was a low command that my body obeyed without thought. Then, as if I weighed nothing, his hands slid under my thighs, and he stood, hauling me into the air.
I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders for balance. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. He repositioned me easily, my legs hooking over each of his forearms, gravity tilting my hips forward and exposing everything I had to the cool air and his dark, hungry eyes.
Oh God.
My face burned so hot it was a miracle the room didn’t catch fire. This position was the worst, the most humiliating thing I could imagine. Now I was pinned against the wall, completely open, with nowhere to hide and no way to close my legs or cover myself or pretend this wasn’t happening.
“Look at you,” he growled, his eyes fixed on the slick mess between my legs. “Dripping for me.”
The thick, bruised-purple head of his cock bobbed inches away from where I was aching and empty, and my muscles fluttered in anticipation. My breath came in shallow gasps.
Please stop looking and just do it already!
But rather than push inside and end this torment, he pressed the wet crown of his cock against the swollen entrance—just a tiny nudge, barely any pressure at all, but it made my whole body clench with want.
Then he began to drag through my folds.
Slow.
Torturous.
His entire length slid through my slickness, coating himself, painting himself with me. The sound it made was obscene… a wet, sticky drag, like pulling something heavy through mud. He drew random patterns over my slit, slow and maddening, each pass ending with a heavy slap of his cock-head against my clit. My hips jerked involuntarily.
Drag. Slap. Drag.
Again and again, building a rhythm that was driving me out of my mind.
