I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes, overpowered by the intense emotions Dom stirs in me. This man tantalizes all five of my senses to soaring heights.
“Look at me!” Dom shouts.
His eyes bore into mine through the mirror while he leisurely kisses along my neck. Dom hates his reflection, but he’s too entranced to realize what he’s doing. He penetrates me in a devastatingly slow stroke, reducing me to putty. Once his length is fully seated in my depths, he pauses briefly before withdrawing until only the mushroom-shaped tip remains, then starts the torture all over again.
“I want this every fucking day,” he murmurs, moving his fingers between my thighs to strum and pluck my slippery clit.
My legs shake, weakened by his talented skills. He cups my chin, angling my head to feed me his tongue.
“Oh my God,” I hear a woman shriek.
Dom and I are too immersed in passionate bliss to react. The conflagration in my center rapidly gains momentum, then bursts into a ball of orgasmic ecstasy. His thrusts become frenzied and uncoordinated.
“I fucking own you,” he grunts, spilling his seed inside my body.
“Leave the premises immediately or I’m calling the police,” a man says, scandalized.
The woman must’ve gone for the manager after catching us. Dom pulls himself out of me and stuffs his softening erection into his pants. He helps me make myself decent and then we exit the restroom hand in hand while the man stares daggers at us.
“Is everything good?” Patrick asks from beside me. “You don’t seem yourself.”
That’s a loaded question. So much has happened since the start of summer, I’m getting whiplash. But today—I groan inwardly—was the straw that broke the camel's back. By the time I got back to the office, the gossip mill was teeming. The whispers and glares were awful. Even Lloyd gave me the cold shoulder. I spent the afternoon hiding in my cubicle. Dom and I need to have a serious conversation. His jealous behavior put my reputation on the line.
The deafening applause interrupts my thoughts. This week is the semi-annual revival at church. The pews are filled with members of the congregation. I’d prefer to be home, but my father is becoming suspicious since I missed service on Sunday and yesterday. The guest speaker stands behind the pulpit, preaching the word of God. Her loud voice grates on my nerves.
I can’t wait to visit Mia. Ice cream and in-person girl talk is desperately needed.
I glance at Lisa, who’s a few rows ahead of me to the left. She was four, and I was nearly nine, when my father relocated us to California. The similarities between us are uncanny. It escaped my notice for all these years. We have the same build and facial features. Has no one ever suspected the truth?
“I’m fine,” I answer. “I’m going to talk to Lisa after service.”
“Bad idea.”
“She’s our sister.”
“You can’t tell her that.”
“My lips are sealed. I just want to spend some time with her.”
“Fine. Remember to keep quiet.”
Once service concludes, I hug and kiss Patrick goodbye before seeking Lisa out. I spot her at the rear of the church leaning against the wall, eyes glued to her cell phone.
“Hi,” I say.
She looks up. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“I started an internship, so I’ve been busy. Having a good summer?”
“Yeah, just working and chillaxing with friends,” Lisa answers.
“Super. Umm… well maybe we can hang out sometime.”
“That would be great,” she says excitedly. “How about next Saturday?”
“Sure, I’m available.”
“Cool.”
