His hand never moved from the ice bucket. My right hand did as requested and my eyes stayed on his. Watching his face flood with heat when I circled my clit was almost as enjoyable as the sensation of my fingers rolling on the wet button of flesh.
He watched, his gaze intent on my hand moving back and forth, until I let out a soft moan. Only the gleam in his eyes a fraction before he moved let me know something was up. He yanked my right hand away, once again pinning it beneath his hold.
“Use your other hand,” he said. “That should slow you down.”
My mouth went slack. I wasn’t left handed. It was awkward as hell using my non-dominant hand, and frustrating, too. It felt good, but not as good as I knew it could. “Aren’t you an evil fucking genius?” I accused.
The ice in the bucket sloshed when he pulled his hand out, his skin pink from the cold water. It stole all the breath from my lungs when one of those icy fingers plunged deep inside me. My back bowed up off the mattress and I threw my head bac
k, too startled to make a noise.
“You like that?” His rough voice. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to come from his words, but right now it was probably going to be from the shockingly cold finger fucking me.
“Shit, it feels so good,” I said when I finally found my voice.
He moved at a leisurely pace while my fingers fumbled over my flesh, desperate to get my release. My right hand tried to escape his grip. It’d be so much faster that way . . .
“Dominic.” My hips moved in time with his slow thrusts, begging him without words, but then my words began too. “Please.”
“Please what? You want another, or you want your hand back?”
The fucked up thing was I didn’t even know. “Yes.”
He made a noise of amusement. He thought this was funny? I was writhing under his touch, half-restrained, out of my mind with lust and desire. So close to coming all over that hand.
“Sorry, you little liar. I think you need to be taught a lesson.” The finger retreated.
“No,” I said, but it died on my tongue when the finger that had been inside me slid into my mouth.
I licked it clean and watched the muscles along his jaw flex as his nostrils flared with desire. I was aching painfully, but at least his little lesson had side effects for him as well.
The moment the finger was gone from my mouth, I blurted it out. “Fuck me, please. I want your cock inside me.”
His expression was playfully smug. “Do you not understand the concept of going slow? Did no one explain to you how that works?”
“Less talking, more fucking.” I was so turned on, I was dripping between my legs. I abandoned my goal of getting myself off with my left hand. It wasn’t going to happen, and he wasn’t watching anyway. He let my fingers dip under the waist of elastic and close around the soft yet firm column of flesh beneath.
I stroked him. Over and over. And even though his breathing became rapid and uneven, he didn’t move. He sat back on his heels and let me give him a sloppy handjob with my unskilled left hand.
“I’m going to let go of you now,” he said. “I’m hoping you’ve learned your lesson.” He leaned over me, his lips crushing against mine as his hand relaxed, releasing me. “It’s taking everything I’ve got not to bury my dick inside you and lose it immediately. Don’t make it any harder on me.”
Did he realize what he was asking me to do? I craved to dominate and be dominated. Joseph demanded my submission and I thought that was undeniably hot. But this? To willingly give my submission to Dominic? That concept was a scorching five hundred degrees. So much hotter than anything else.
It came out less confident than I’d ever sounded in bed. “I can try.”
We tangled our bodies then. Hands held the sides of my face and I crossed my arms behind his back, gripping my forearms to keep my hands from drifting. I clenched my teeth together as he explored every curve of my body. Hands, then mouth. Submitting to him like this, knowing I was pleasing him instead of myself . . . oh, god. I couldn’t think about it. Tomorrow he’d be gone and take this fascinating new experience with him.
My eyes were shut tight when the bed rocked and he went to the suit jacket, yanking out a foil packet. He lost his boxers on the way back to me, unleashing that huge cock I was desperate for. The torturous agony stifled me when he dropped the unopened condom wrapper on my stomach. The waiting was killing me.
Slow. Oh so slow. He knelt between my bent knees and dipped down, his tongue swiped over my pussy. One long, agonizingly teasing lick at a time, just the tip of his tongue.
Again.
And again. I fisted a hand in his hair, but kept myself from pressing him against me and demanding more.
“So,” he mumbled from in between my legs, “what are you going to do now that you’re unemployed?”
My head spun. He wanted to talk about that with a face full of my pussy? “I don’t know, and right now, I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is what you’re doing.”