Page 98 of Sinner's Vows

52

ARIANA

Cold shaving gel drops to my skin, and I shiver, but it’s more with the idea of what he is doing than the actual feel of the gel as he gently spreads it over my skin. His touch is featherlight yet sure, each slide of the blade down my sex a promise of what’s to come.

When Dominic takes care of a woman?—

I can think of nothing else as he prepares me for whatever comes next. He’s fast, his fingers deft as he makes quick work of shaving me. I’m embarrassed, but I’m too turned on to really care. This is as much for his pleasure as mine, and the pleasure is intense as he traces each slide of the blade with his thumb, making sure never to touch me where I want his touch the most.

I look down. The picture of him leaning into my pussy, concentration etched on his brow as he wipes away the gel, makes my clit pulse. He hasn’t touched me there yet. It’s as if he is teasing me—torturing me—despite the fact I’m dripping wet with desire.

“Dominic…I need more,” I whisper as he puts everything he’s used in a towel and drops it to the floor.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

He dips his head to press a soft kiss to my mound, his hands now on my knees, holding me open. As he opens his mouth and with a slow, intense lick, slides down to the tip of my sex, electricity shoots through the short stretch between his lips and my clit. I jolt against him, suddenly getting why the shaving was as much for my pleasure as for his own. This is going to be intense.

He smiles against my skin as I tug at my bonds, quivering with the aftershocks. Nobody has ever done this to me before, and it’s…it’s a lot.

And I want more.

Instead of going down on me as I’m praying he would, he runs his bottom lip up and kisses my tally scars, my bullet wound, my tattoo, higher to my navel as he spreads open-mouth kisses to what seems like every inch of flesh between my sex and my breasts. It’s fire trailing a path on my skin, and ice whispering wherever his lips leave, the incongruous sensation making me squirm.

His lips reach that sweet spot behind my ear. “Anything specific you want, sweetheart?” he whispers. “Or do you want me to just do everything I want to do to you?”

“Make me come already,” I beg, shameless. “With your fingers. I want to have your fingers in me.” To see if I can take it. If it would hurt. I have no doubt he’d know exactly what to do to get me there. At this rate, it’s not going to take much.

“Not yet, sweetheart. When you’re ready,” he murmurs in my ear, his warm breath sparking goosebumps down my chest.

“Iamready,” I beg, needing friction.

“Maybe, but I’m not.”

He kisses me then, a slow and erotic turn of his tongue with mine while he lowers his body, his erection belying his words as he rides it into my thigh.

All I want is to touch him, to make him feel what he makes me feel, but Dominic is on a mission of his own, wandering the panes of my body with his lips, his fingers, strong but almost weightless as he twists each nerve ending on my skin into a tight bundle, kindling for the fire he’s igniting in my core.

When he presses a palm to my pelvic bone and massages a slow circle, applying the perfect pressure, my hips drive into his hand all by themselves.

“Oh my—Dominic,” I whisper, feeling the pleasure right there, a flame to my fuse that suddenly seems very short. “Oh my… More,” I beg as I roll my hips into his hand, and then, as if there is a god out there, listening to my mumbled, desire-laced prayers, Dominic finally flicks his tongue over my nipple, and then, as if he knew I’m on the verge, gently sucks it and tugs.

An orgasm starts to ripple though me, from deep inside my core, and for a split second, I think it would stave off, but then it explodes, and I gasp at the pleasure of each pulse through my sex as I strain against the bonds.

“Dominic,” I whimper, breathless as he keeps suckling at me, every tug of his lips seeming to drain my orgasm into the bed. I had no idea it could be like this.

“Good girl,” he murmurs with a smile in his voice.

“How do you… how do you know I’ve come?”

He looks up at me, his dark brown eyes liquid with lust.

“Let me count the ways,” he teases as he trails a fingertip round my sex, still not touching me where I must be drenched. “The way you quivered under my palm. The way your breathing turned a bit frantic. The way you moaned?”

I’m already flushed, but now the heat suffuses my face. I didn’t even realize I was moaning.

“And then there’s your scent, sweetheart. I can smell the release on you.” He kisses my inner arm, working his way up tomy shoulder and then to my face where he presses a sugar-sweet kiss on my forehead. “You’re still good?”

He is so gentle, so kind, so considerate, so experienced, I feel like a virgin in the hands of a master seducer. In a way I am, and now, I see right through his process. By being the opposite of everything Franco was, he is slowly erasing every memory I have from that night until the only thing remaining are slight indents on the page, to remind me that someone was there before, a very long time ago.

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