Page 96 of PS: I Hate You

My gut clenches, regret clawing at my insides.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” I growl, frustrated with him and myself. This was going so well a moment ago. “And I still want to do things. Just…can you not finger me?”

Dom pauses his emotional withdrawal, tilting his head to study me. “You don’t like it?”

Physically, I love it. Mentally, it’s tied up with some shit I thought I got over.

Even if he fingers me tonight, it doesn’t mean he’ll leave me for Rosaline tomorrow, I lecture myself.

Still, I just can’t. It’s too close to repeating the past.

“I want to do something else,” I say instead of answering his question.

“Whatever you want, Maddie. If you want to cuddle, we can do that.” He spreads his arms. “This doesn’t have to be sexual.”

Great. Mr.Responsible Asshole strolled his way into the building to remind me that orgasming with a man I hated not too long ago—and live on the opposite side of the country from—may not be the smartest idea.

“Could you shut up and take your pants off?” I snap.

Back off, phone sex operators, Maddie Sanderson is coming for your job.

Dom’s brows dip as he stares at me, and I wait for him to refuse. To insist we change course. Totalk.

Then his long-fingered hands settle at his waistband, where his thermal has ridden up a few inches. I spy that stretch of skin on his lower belly that I want to suck on like sour candy. Dom rubs the fabric, and that’s when I see the decent-sized bulge pressing against his jeans.

“These pants?” Dom asks, as if he needs guidance.

I gape.

The asshole istauntingme. I can see it in the way his lips firm, pressing away a smile.

I click my mouth shut before I accidentally grin. “Yes, Dom. Those pants.” I try to sound unaffected. “Take them off.”

“Why?” He drags a thumb under the waistband, but even though we can both see his arousal through the material, he doesn’t follow my order.

“Because I want to see if you stuffed a bunch of socks in there for a confidence boost, obviously.”

As Dom barks a surprised laugh, I stalk back over to the daybed. Then I stand between his spread knees and loom over him as much as I can manage, glaring into his melty brown eyes.

“I want you to take your pants off, because I want to make you come.”

Because he’s had one of my orgasms for years, and now I need a return. To be balanced.

To prove this isn’t some pity hookup.

I need Dominic Perry to fall apart atmyhands. Because it seems like I’m the only one ever crumbling to pieces in this pair.

“What ifIwant to makeyoucome?” he asks, reaching out to palm my thigh before dragging his hand upward until his touch is under my sweater and caressing the overheated skin of my waist.

I’m going to need these clothes off soon so I don’t pass out from heatstroke. Maybe we should crack the window and let some of that snowstorm in.

But first, his question requires an answer.

“Dominic Perry. I’m offering to lick and suck your cock until you come in my mouth. That is a high-quality orgasm offer. I don’t hand them out to just anyone.” Leaning in, I place a gentle kiss on his lips and enjoy the ragged way he exhales. “Now, do you want me to retract my offer, or do you want to take your pants off?”

Leaving him to what I hope is an easy decision, I step back, cross my arms, and raise a single eyebrow in challenge.

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