“Dom.”
His heated gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Yes, Poppy.”
Heat claws at my neck. The way he says my name, like a soldier addressing their queen, has my pulse racing. “I’m not s—”
“Shh. Orgasms help with cramps, don’t they?”
Shit, he’s right. Another circle of his dexterous fingers around my bud and I moan, parting my lips.
His other hand swipes the hair from my flushed cheeks. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”
His circular movements speed up and my walls clench, reminding me I’m bunged with a tampon. If I wasn’t, I’d be begging his fingers to work inside me right now.
“Let it go, Red. Don’t fight it.”
My hips lift, needing more friction against his digits. With another moan from my lips, I let all my inhibitions go. He could be the devil, but right now, all I care about is hitting this peak. Staring into Dom’s heated brown eyes forged in the fires of hell, he could easily be Lucifer himself. His wicked grin as he strums my body, summoning my orgasm, demanding it even, is every bit celestial and sinister.
“My greedy little fox.” He smirks, working his thick fingers against me. His other hand rests on my forehead while his thumb strokes away the creases in my brow.
My back arches, my hips grinding in rhythm with his hand. “That’s it, my little pet.”
When he says pet, I’m done for. A burst of pleasure wracks my body so violently my limbs shake. All pain forgotten.
With my eyes closed, I regulate my breathing, afraid to look at him after I let him do that, like he was just giving me a massage for a bad back or something. The heat in my cheeks intensifies.
He removes his hand and pulls my top down over my belly like I need my modesty after he just strummed me like a musical instrument. He places a kiss on my forehead, and I roll to the side before launching myself from the bed and running down the hall to the bathroom.
I lock myself inside, with only shame to keep me company. After cleaning myself and changing my tampon, I sit on the edge of the bathtub, wondering what the heck I’m doing. Although it’s clear I fancy him. I’m always attracted to the wrong guys. It’s just how I’m wired, though a stalker is actually an improvement from the last one.
A knock on the door snaps me from my thoughts. “Poppy.” He tries the handle, rattling the silver knob. “You all right?”
I suck in a deep breath, knowing I’m going to have to face him at some point. My skin itches as I unlock the door. He steps aside, letting me pass. I don’t look at him and keep my eyes glued to my feet. My shoulders curl inwards as I pad back to the bedroom.
I slip into the bed and curl into a ball, hugging a cushion. It’s just sex. I shouldn’t feel ashamed like this. My body wants him, but my mind is screaming to get the heck out of here. If only I could.
The door creaks, then the light from the hall diminishes. His shadow corners the bed, then the mattress dips as he crawls in behind me like a predator sneaking up on his next meal.
His fingers slip around my waist as he nestles beside me. I forgot to place the cushions in the middle as a barrier. Warm lips press against my cheek. My skin set alight by the feel of his bristled jaw. Any other night I would have cringed and inched away, stuffing the pillows between us, but I’m too sedated to care. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard or was so desperate for a release.
His sweltry hand finds my skin and his palm rests against my stomach. “Are you feeling better?”
Smug bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing and somehow I don’t think he had my best interest at heart, he just wants control. I could have said no. I know that. And I believe he would have stopped. The truth is, I didn’t want him to stop, and that’s what terrifies me the most.
He whispers in my ear, “Let me know if you still have cramps.” His breath on my neck and lips brushing against my skin sends a shock wave of tingles down my spine.
“I’m good. Just tired now.” My body jerks, and I scooch over, needing the distance between us before I do something I regret and make a mess of the sheets again.
“Night, Red.” He kisses the back of my head, then rolls away, giving me the space I need. Maybe he needs it too after that. My lids grow heavy. Despite what just happened, I can’t deny how secure I feel with him. The way he treasures me makes me feel like a precious jewel. Of all the guys I’ve dated, none ever made me feel this special. Not even guys who paid me to dance.
17
DOM
Poppy is already in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs.
“They smell good, Pops.”
She screws her face up, her body recoils in front of me from the bright and happy fox to a scared squirrel. “Don’t call me that.”
