Still, Dom has found ways to be what I need, when I need it. A friend. A listener. A protector. A semi-lover. I want to thank him. I want to tell him what it means to me that he's here. It's just so damn hard to get the words up out of my throat.
Beneath me, Dom shifts. Makes a sound like a brief sigh that sticks in his throat. My eyes track his hand that reaches down into his sleep shorts, adjusting himself. Lazily, he gives it a half-hearted tug. I don't think he's fully awake, but his morning wood is at attention, still within the confines of his shorts.
Before I can think much more about it, I slide down his body. If I can't get the words out of my throat, I can put something else down it.
Dom stirs when I pull him from the soft shorts he wore to sleep. "Cecily, what?—"
Heavy in my palm, I stroke my hand over him, making my intentions clear. Just a few seconds spent on this and I'm already squeezing my thighs together. I want him in a way that's foreign to me.
I take him in my mouth, and he goes quiet. His hand finds my hair, slipping through the strands until he gets to a tangle. His hand leaves my hair, moves to my face. A contented groan trickles from him. I peek up. His eyes are locked on me, deep blue and half-lidded.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep and pleasure. "My Menace. My Chestnut."
My heart gallops in my chest. I love his nicknames for me. Far more than I should.
He groans, louder now, the sound coming from deep in his chest. His eyes do not stray from me, and I find it intoxicating. It's like he doesn't want to miss a moment of it. So I leaninto that.Perform. Drink him down while my watery eyelashes flutter. His chest heaves, his jaw locks tight. He loves it.
So do I.
His fingertips brush over my face, thumb curving along the apple of my cheekbone. His fingers find my hair again, tightening on my scalp with the perfect amount of pressure.
"Cecily," he husks. "I'm close."
I nod in understanding, but I keep him where he is. I've never swallowed before, but with Dom, I want to.
Dom's fingers curl, pulling my hair in the best way, and he tips his head back and shuts his eyes tight. He's doing his best to be quiet, but he can't help the groaning grunt that vibrates from his throat.
"Your parents are on the other side of this wall," he says when he opens his eyes. "You have no idea how difficult it was to be quiet."
I sit back on my knees, demurely dabbing at the corners of my mouth. Swallowing wasn't that bad. "Wouldn't want Mommy and Daddy to know I gave you the old razzle dazzle."
The corner of his mouth tugs into a slow grin. He's still dazed, but he reaches for me.
I roll off the bed, wagging a finger at him as the ache between my legs yells at me. "No, no, no, mister. Keep your hands to yourself. We have places to be."
Dom follows me into the bathroom. He is sleep-rumpled and recently orgasmed, his shorts cinched low on his hips. I run the tap, tossing a handful of water in my mouth and swishing.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck, watching me in the mirror. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"
I spit, grabbing the hand towel and wiping my mouth. "I couldn't depart Tombstone without the opportunity to become a soiled dove."
Dom chuckles. I could leave it at that cheeky remark, and that would be it. But maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should be brave. "I have a hard time verbalizing my appreciation of you. I thought I would show you instead."
Dom grips my hips, digs his fingers into me with the perfect amount of roughness. "I wouldn't mind spending some time appreciating you." He presses a kiss between my shoulder blades, his mop of messy hair toppling with the angle of his head.
"You did," I remind him. "Last night." The thought of it sends a bolt of heat to my core.
"Wasn't enough," he complains, almost pouting.
He looks so cute like that. It's enough to make a girl want to hop up on the countertop and spread her legs.
But I know better.
"No more funny business," I tell him. "We have a long drive today. Five hours to Sierra Grande. Plus, it's our last time traveling in Bernice. We need to make the most of it. Copious roadside stops. Many bags of Bugles. The most disgusting assortment of Icee flavors."
"Ugh," Dom groans. "I can't kiss you if you taste like Bugles and swamp water Icee."
I turn around, pressing my palms firmly against his hard chest. "That's why you need to eat Bugles and drink swamp water Icee with me. If we taste the same, we won't know the difference." I push him lightly, attempting to urge him out the bathroom door, but he doesn't budge. "I need to pee," I tell him, pushing him a little harder this time.
