Undeniable: Dom & Gigi (Beg For It 5)

“Gigi.” He reached out to grab my wrist, like Brock had earlier. I drew it away. In a lower voice, I leaned toward him. “If you like me, Dom, then show me.”

“Show you?” His voice sounded dangerous.

But I kept on going. “Meet me tomorrow. It’s going to be gorgeous out. I want to go to the beach.”

“The beach?” Now he looked like I’d lost my mind.

“Yes, have you ever heard of it? It’s this sandy thing with ocean waves next to it.” He looked down at me, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Meet me at my house at 11. Or don’t, and then whatever this is”—I gestured between us—“don’t worry, it’ll be over.”

I swept out of the club on the wings of my boldness. When the day had started out I never thought it would have ended like that, with me giving Dom an ultimatum. But I guessed even sweet little me had limits. I’d been walking around half-crazed over the man and I had to know—was he feeling it, too? Or was it time for me to swallow the bitter pill of rejection and move on? I’d find out tomorrow.

* * *

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* * *

I didn’t have to wait long. Eleven o’clock arrived and so did Dom, in that huge black truck I’d seen him working on the other day. I guessed he’d fixed it up.

He stepped out looking like he could melt my panties with a single glance, a T-shirt hugging his muscles, board shorts slung low.

“You came!” I couldn’t stop myself from rushing out to meet him, all my tough and bold words from the night before melting into bubbling excitement.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll always make sure you come first.” He winked at me and I paused a moment before getting his dirty joke. That didn’t take long. He’d only just arrived and already we were talking about sex. I didn’t know what had changed in him, but I could tell something had. The thought that he might not be fighting the attraction between us anymore made me giddy.

Our flirtation started fast and didn’t stop. As we walked down the wooden path, he teased me about what a spoiled rich girl I was with my own private beach. As we put our things down and I realized he hadn’t brought a towel, I sassed him over whether he thought he was too tough to need to dry off. Like towels were for wimps. But when I slipped off my sundress and revealed my skimpy string bikini, he had absolutely nothing to say. In the best way possible.

“No smart-ass comments?” I teased him, flouncing my hair back over my shoulder as I turned to head toward the shed and get out some lounge chairs.

“I like your ass,” he murmured, following me. I smiled. It was fun to get him riled up.

We set out our chairs, then headed down to the water where we flirted at the shore, him tickling me, me trying to splash him. For a man of his size he was quick, and strong, too. He lifted me right up and threatened to dump me into the waves as I squealed and laughed.

Back up at our spot, he pulled me into a lounge chair with him, right onto his lap. “So all this is yours, huh?” He gestured around at the beach, the unspoiled sand, the sparkling blue water stretching into cloudless pale blue sky.

“My father’s,” I agreed. “Over to the rocks.” I gestured in the distance to the outcropping marking our property boundary.

“And your father doesn’t ever come here to enjoy it? Hell, if I owned this you’d never be able to drag me away from it.”

“He’s been staying at his other house this summer.”

“His other house?”

“Yes, he has one closer to town.”

“Two houses,” Dom repeated for clarification. “In the Hamptons.” I nodded. I guessed it was extravagant. But my father was a billionaire. I didn’t like advertising it, but I was sure he could buy a whole lot more properties in the Hamptons without ever feeling pinched.

“I’m afraid it’s just us here today,” I sighed, re-focusing him on the up-side. No father around to monitor our behavior. We could do anything we wanted.

“Just us, huh?” He wrapped his hands around my waist and lowered his head. “I have no idea what we’ll do with the time.” His lips found mine and my stomach flipped with exhilaration. I could feel it in the way he kissed me. He was done holding back. Now he was doing what he wanted, and what he wanted was to kiss me on the beach.

I twined my fingers through his hair, nibbled his lower lip, licked and kissed and moaned into his mouth. He tasted so good, so forbidden and dangerous and I’d wanted him for so long. I felt like liquid fire in his embrace, like I’d taken a shot of bourbon and it warmed me to my core.

“It’s no fair,” I whined, playfully, fisting his T-shirt in my hand. “I’m wearing next-to-nothing but you’ve still got your shirt on.”

“You want my shirt off?” he asked with a sexy smile. I nodded. I really wanted it off. He shifted me away for a moment, still on his lap but painfully not touching so he could remove his shirt. The second it dropped to the side, I was on him shamelessly, running my hands over his chest, digging my fingers into his shoulders, tracing the tattoos I’d admired from a distance.

We kissed and touched, suits still on but exploring all the skin we could, our panting breaths mingling and growing more heated until he groaned. Breaking off a kiss, he entwined his fingers through mine and rested his forehead against mine. I squirmed on his lap, not wanting a breather, needing my hands still roaming free all over him. I wanted more.

“I want to touch you.” I twisted against his grip, pushing my breasts toward his chest, wanting no distance between us at all. I wanted to inhale him and he me, every second, for the rest of the day and all night.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he panted, insisting on keeping my hands off of him.

“Let me,” I whispered, leaning down to give his throat a lick. I’d never felt so crazed, never been so brazen before. Most of the time I’d fended guys off, feeling more bored during a makeout session than anything else. Now? I thought I might die if I didn’t get to touch him again, kiss him, twine my tongue with his and stroke him until he made that deep, guttural sound in his throat again. I liked that a lot.

“You are playing with so much fire,” he warned me, but he didn’t push me away. He didn’t let my wrists go, either. He held them together in one hand, but then brought the other one up to my bikini top. “I like this on you.” He traced the edges of the triangles and I squirmed on his lap, feeling a rush of wet heat between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, whimpering as he found my erect nipples and toyed with them through the swimsuit.

“I like how you can’t hide anything from me,” he murmured as he dipped his mouth down to my breasts, kissing, licking my soft exposed skin along the sides of the triangles. I groaned and wantonly arched my back, pushing my breasts into his mouth. It felt so fucking good, like he was devouring me and I cursed my damn swimsuit for creating even the flimsiest barrier. The way he held my hands behind my back, frustrating as it was, made me even hotter. It felt like he was controlling me, in charge.

“You like how this feels?” he whispered, licking, slowly sliding the bikini triangle to the side of my nipple.

“Oh, Dom, yes,” I moaned, wanting desperately for him to move faster, expose me, suck me, do whatever he wanted.

“You’re so eager, Gigi,” he praised and teased me at the same time, not touching my exposed nipple yet, moving instead over to the other side to free my other one. Both stuck out with hard, aroused, pink tips. His hand was so big he could cup both my breasts with it and squeeze them together.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he exhaled, admiring the sight of my arousal, until finally he dove in, feasting on me, sucking and licking and laving my sensitive nipples with his tongue and lips, pulling on me and soothing and driving me completely wild all at once.

“Dom,” I panted, grinding against him, moaning. “Dom.” I didn’t even know what I was asking for. All I knew was I felt such driving, intense, pounding pressure. Building up, it felt like I was going to explode.

“Are you wet, baby?” he asked.

r /> I cried out in response, “I’m so wet, Dom, please!”

He freed my wrists, and I brought my hands up to his shoulders as he stroked my waist, then the triangle below.

“Can I see?” He looked into my eyes, asking my permission.

“Yes,” I panted, ready to rip my bikini off for him if he didn’t get to it fast.

He undid one side, then the other and the triangle fell down, exposing my bare, slick pussy. It felt so dirty and so good, showing him how aroused he’d gotten me. When he saw me, he drew in his breath like he’d been punched.

“Fuck.” He looked at me like a starving man seeing a banquet. “You’re so wet. And you’re bare.”

“Do you like that?” I whispered, the slightest hint of shyness breaking into my lust. I’d gotten in the habit of getting waxed a year or so ago. With all the skimpy dresses and tiny panties I wore, it made sense, plus all my sorority sisters made a regular pilgrimage to the salon. But maybe he preferred the natural look.

“You’re so hot,” he panted, his fingers gripping my hips, digging into my skin. It felt like he was trying to stop himself from touching me. That was the last thing I wanted.

“Do you want to touch me?” I asked, parting my legs slightly.

He groaned his response and slowly slid his thick index finger down to my pussy, glistening for him. He stroked, gentle, reverent, and then found it right away, that elusive spot that brought me so much pleasure yet no other man had managed to get to it yet. Honestly, even I, alone in the darkness of my bedroom, hadn’t managed to make myself feel this good.