“Is that a good thing? You don’t exactly seem like the chaos type, if you know what I mean?”
I let my eyes drift down his pristine shirt and slacks, his black shoes buffed to a military shine with a fresh wax, and back up to his carefully combed dark hair. Everything about him screams power, control, and dominance. In contrast, I’m wild, sloppy, and weak.
Dominick lets me scan him, then he leans closer, invading my space but not touching me. I mindlessly arch my back, yearning for contact, wanting more, impossibly aware of the heat of his skin just beyond the borders of mine.
“My entire life depends on predictability, knowing others’ moves before they do themselves, and analyzing every factor in my life from every angle.”
Disappointment blooms in my gut, the voice in my head chastising me for thinking I could be more than a fuck for a man like Dominick. But the ever-hopeful pixie in my heart whispers that if he wanted a quick fuck, he wouldn’t have shown up to my new work and brought me to his home. He wouldn’t follow me and protect me, even when it’s not needed.
He certainly doesn’t do that for the other dancers at Petals. Maybe . . . maybe I do have a place in his life, the crazy loop-di-loop straw that stirs his quiet drink into a tornado and brings a bit of chaos to his perfect order?
The thought gives me the strength to meet his eyes equally. “And what is my place in that life of order, Dominick?”
Dominick takes my hand, his voice strong and sure. “You are impossible to predict. The things you say, the way you behave, the paths your mind takes, I never quite know with you. I find it invigorating and refreshing. Your chaos disturbs me, but I daresay, I secretly find it beautiful in a messy way. As if your being is livelier simply because you don’t try to cage it into submission.”
His words wash over me, silkily working their way into every dark crevice where doubts and insecurities lie, filling me with breath. Before I can consider the consequences, I attack him, pressing my full lips to his with abandon and letting my body finally press against his completely.
Every hard plane of his chest and abdomen meets my softness, my breasts and belly conforming around him to maximize every bit of contact as I climb into his lap, straddling him and pinning him to the couch temporarily.
He tastes of coffee and mint, energizing and powerful. His hands catch on my hips, an automatic response to my weight being thrown on him, but then he grasps my flesh, dimpling my skin under his fingers.
I can feel the thoughts swirling in his head, the buzz of whether we should do this, or maybe it’s whether we should do this now. But I’ve wanted it, wanted him as I tracked him as much as he watched me. The rules may have changed mere days ago, but this has been months coming and I’m not willing to wait any longer.
I nibble at his bottom lip, demanding his presence in this moment, here with me, not in his thoughts. For this instant, I’m the boss, and the sharp edge of my teeth seems to do the trick. He growls into me and I swallow the sound.
“Allison—” he starts, and I can hear his question in the singular word. I don’t want his hesitation, so I cut him off, something I know he’d never allow someone else, but I take the liberty anyway, taking him at his word that he appreciates my challenging personality.
“Fuck me, Dominick,” I growl, grinding down onto the hard bulge that’s appeared in his trousers, rubbing it against the heat between my legs. “Fill me and make me yours.”
There’s the briefest flash of surprise at my words, and then he takes control, his hands tightening around my ass cheeks and cupping me roughly.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for, but very well, love. Remember, you asked for this.” His words are a dark promise, one I want to hold him to and that I have every belief he can deliver on.
Sitting forward, he surges off the couch and lifts me like I’m as light as a feather, his strength thrilling me as my legs wrap around his torso naturally. He strides down the hall and up a flight of marble stairs, carrying me easily before tossing me onto a bed.
I want to look around, take in his space here, but my eyes refuse to leave his. His fingers dig into the waistband of my sweats, taking them and the shorts underneath off in one fell swoop while I pull my shirt and bra over my head.
Bared to him, I pose like I’m gracing the cover of a naughty calendar, not a single doubt in my head as to how sexy he finds me when he looks at me the way he is.