Recognizing the cues, understanding Katherine’s preference for a full-stop climax, he thrust in slowly to the mouth of her womb, heard her gasp, forced himself a fraction deeper, then dropped his head, let his mouth open over hers, and tasted her sweet, keening cry.
Their orgasms rolled through their senses in spectacular, searing waves, Dominic’s powerful body covering her, gorging her, pumping into her, pinning her to the bed while astonishing, adrenaline-high, nuclear-level climaxes pushed sensation into the stratosphere.
A flame-hot, Dominic-fueled orgasm that left her throat raw and her nerves quivering.
An unimaginable Katherine-induced blast of madness and triumph that left him with a smile on his face.
Dominic did apologize afterward, not grudgingly, but with fond kisses, his body resting lightly on hers, his erection still gently throbbing inside her. “I’m going to control my dick and my temper from now on. I promise.”
Her arms twined around his neck, she smiled up at him. “Just so you know, I get all sexed up when you’re demanding and moody.”
He had a pretty good idea already that she did, considering their time in Hong Kong, but he only said, ultrapolitely, “Thanks for the data point. I’ll keep it in mind. Now, what do you want to do?”
“Really? My choice?”
He hesitated only a second before he said, “Your choice, babe. I owe you.”
She pointed at the bookshelf. “Show me some of the books you liked to read when you were young.”
Having anticipated a sexual request, he did a double take.
She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. “I’d like to know. Start with your favorite.”
“Grant’s memoirs.” He slid off the bed and moved toward the shelf. “It’s a fucking good read.” And coming back to the bed, he described his favorite scenes, the reasons he liked them, how he’d first discovered the books when he was eleven.
She tried not to appear openly adoring, and asked questions with a nominal neutrality. She might have even succeeded in concealing her doting affection because after a time, he turned his head on his pillow, his gaze open and warm, and said, “Tell me about your favorite book.”
He ignored the fact that he’d never asked a woman that question, never even considered a conversation about books relevant to male-female discourse.
When Kate said, “Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings,” he smiled and said, “Of course.”
And when she’d finished explaining her love of the story, she sat up and said softly, “Are you okay with me here? Just asking.”
There was a long pause while he stared at her, then he let out a small breath. “I want you with me. I’ll deal with it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
His lips formed a little smile. “Baby, that’s too big a job even for your self-confidence. I don’t know how many therapists have tried and failed.” His eyes glittered suddenly with suppressed rage and he dragged in a long, slow breath.
A crackling static shot through the room, as if forked lightning had hit. All the air seemed to disappear. Kate’s voice was faint. “How many?”
He took another deep breath, raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I lost count.” He paused, then looked at her and smiled. “You’re being incredibly well behaved. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly sane.”
“You’re saner than anyone I know, Dominic,” she said quietly. “Really.”
He looked at her from under the dark fan of his lashes and swallowed. “You sure you want to hear this?”
“I like when you talk to me. I like to hear you talk.” I like everything about you.
He nodded in resignation or weariness.
She didn’t dare breathe, fearful he’d change his mind and shrug himself back into his inaccessible habitat.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said with a scowl.
She wanted to say there’s nothing you can tell me that will change the way I feel about you. But she only shook her head. “I won’t.”
“When I was a child,” he began softly, a small frown settling between his brows, “my mother took pleasure in emotionally harassing me for some goddamn reason. I fought back. So she was under the impression I wanted to kill her. Not that I was going to, although… there were definitely times…” he said, his voice trailing off. He took a breath. “Anyway, starting at age six, she sent me to one psychiatrist after another. When they each, in turn, realized she was most of the problem, she’d cancel my appointments and find another shrink. And so on and so on. I can’t tell you how many kind, or incompetent, or downright dangerous therapists I saw, how many thousands of pills I didn’t swallow. You get good at it. I could hold a pill in my mouth for however long it took before I was able to spit it out. Even if I had to open my mouth for them. Even if I had to drink a fucking glass of water in front of them.”
“Jeez. Is that even legal? Giving drugs to a six-year-old? Especially like that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It is until you get old enough to find a way out. What I learned early on, though, was how to shut down in under three seconds. How to survive in a hostile world. Both have come in handy in my business.” He smiled grimly. “Making lemonade out of lemons, right? And my sister, Melanie, was always there when I got home. She knew how to make me feel better, calm me down.”
Kate’s heart was thumping in her chest. She was speechless.
Their orgasms rolled through their senses in spectacular, searing waves, Dominic’s powerful body covering her, gorging her, pumping into her, pinning her to the bed while astonishing, adrenaline-high, nuclear-level climaxes pushed sensation into the stratosphere.
A flame-hot, Dominic-fueled orgasm that left her throat raw and her nerves quivering.
An unimaginable Katherine-induced blast of madness and triumph that left him with a smile on his face.
Dominic did apologize afterward, not grudgingly, but with fond kisses, his body resting lightly on hers, his erection still gently throbbing inside her. “I’m going to control my dick and my temper from now on. I promise.”
Her arms twined around his neck, she smiled up at him. “Just so you know, I get all sexed up when you’re demanding and moody.”
He had a pretty good idea already that she did, considering their time in Hong Kong, but he only said, ultrapolitely, “Thanks for the data point. I’ll keep it in mind. Now, what do you want to do?”
“Really? My choice?”
He hesitated only a second before he said, “Your choice, babe. I owe you.”
She pointed at the bookshelf. “Show me some of the books you liked to read when you were young.”
Having anticipated a sexual request, he did a double take.
She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. “I’d like to know. Start with your favorite.”
“Grant’s memoirs.” He slid off the bed and moved toward the shelf. “It’s a fucking good read.” And coming back to the bed, he described his favorite scenes, the reasons he liked them, how he’d first discovered the books when he was eleven.
She tried not to appear openly adoring, and asked questions with a nominal neutrality. She might have even succeeded in concealing her doting affection because after a time, he turned his head on his pillow, his gaze open and warm, and said, “Tell me about your favorite book.”
He ignored the fact that he’d never asked a woman that question, never even considered a conversation about books relevant to male-female discourse.
When Kate said, “Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings,” he smiled and said, “Of course.”
And when she’d finished explaining her love of the story, she sat up and said softly, “Are you okay with me here? Just asking.”
There was a long pause while he stared at her, then he let out a small breath. “I want you with me. I’ll deal with it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
His lips formed a little smile. “Baby, that’s too big a job even for your self-confidence. I don’t know how many therapists have tried and failed.” His eyes glittered suddenly with suppressed rage and he dragged in a long, slow breath.
A crackling static shot through the room, as if forked lightning had hit. All the air seemed to disappear. Kate’s voice was faint. “How many?”
He took another deep breath, raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I lost count.” He paused, then looked at her and smiled. “You’re being incredibly well behaved. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly sane.”
“You’re saner than anyone I know, Dominic,” she said quietly. “Really.”
He looked at her from under the dark fan of his lashes and swallowed. “You sure you want to hear this?”
“I like when you talk to me. I like to hear you talk.” I like everything about you.
He nodded in resignation or weariness.
She didn’t dare breathe, fearful he’d change his mind and shrug himself back into his inaccessible habitat.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said with a scowl.
She wanted to say there’s nothing you can tell me that will change the way I feel about you. But she only shook her head. “I won’t.”
“When I was a child,” he began softly, a small frown settling between his brows, “my mother took pleasure in emotionally harassing me for some goddamn reason. I fought back. So she was under the impression I wanted to kill her. Not that I was going to, although… there were definitely times…” he said, his voice trailing off. He took a breath. “Anyway, starting at age six, she sent me to one psychiatrist after another. When they each, in turn, realized she was most of the problem, she’d cancel my appointments and find another shrink. And so on and so on. I can’t tell you how many kind, or incompetent, or downright dangerous therapists I saw, how many thousands of pills I didn’t swallow. You get good at it. I could hold a pill in my mouth for however long it took before I was able to spit it out. Even if I had to open my mouth for them. Even if I had to drink a fucking glass of water in front of them.”
“Jeez. Is that even legal? Giving drugs to a six-year-old? Especially like that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It is until you get old enough to find a way out. What I learned early on, though, was how to shut down in under three seconds. How to survive in a hostile world. Both have come in handy in my business.” He smiled grimly. “Making lemonade out of lemons, right? And my sister, Melanie, was always there when I got home. She knew how to make me feel better, calm me down.”
Kate’s heart was thumping in her chest. She was speechless.
