Page 43 of Sweet Shots

Dominic grabs my wrist and pulls me into the kitchen, toward the table. He pulls out a chair. “Sit.”

I raise a brow.

“Sit in the chair, Mikah.”

With a groan, I drop into the chair and when Dominic’s hands come back to my shoulders, his thumbs kneading into the tight muscles, I start drooling.

“You need to stop stressing about so many things,”he chastises.

“Mhmm,” I mutter as my eyes fall closed.

“Your body is not happy like this. You need to relax more. Just chill out, you know? You have nothing to worry about with that video. Yes, we can look at it together. Yes, we can edit it together. But we don’t need to make another one. I mean, believe me when I tell you I am not against making another one with you. I will make videos with you all day, every day, if you react to me the way you did yesterday, but it isn’t necessary. At least, not for work. Maybe personally. I could definitely get more of you personally.”

I hear him speaking, going on about me and how he wants to make more videos, but I’m so lost in how good his hands feel that I’m not really paying attention to anything else.

He starts talking again, but he sounds like the adults in the Peanuts show. I don’t make out a single word, just a bunch of vowels and sounds and nonsense.

“Just stop talking and keep doing that,” I say, and the noise stops.

Then his hands stop.

“Why did you stop doing that?” I bite out, looking at him over my shoulder.

His brow is raised, as if he’s in shock. I blink a few times, and I snap out of whatever kind of trance I was in, realizing what I just did and said. This man has got to be a sorcerer or something. How the hell does hedo that?

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I jump to my feet, moving toward the door. “That was really weird. I just… have no idea the last time I got a massage, and it felt really good.”

His eyes dip down, and I know he’s staring at my dick. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and my traitorous dick twitches. I know he sees it when his eyes widen slightly.

“Sit down.” His words come out calm, but they’re a demand. Similar to how he spoke to me the entire time in his bedroom yesterday.

“Wha—”

His eyes flick to mine. “I said sit down.”

I turn and sit my ass on the chair. No idea why I’m listening to him—again.

He goes back to massaging me, and though I don’t get lost in it as quickly as I did the first time, I still do. I fight it, but it’s no use. I’m stressed and his hands feel so good. I’m always worrying about something—I know this. It’s just how I am. I don’t know how to stop. And I don’t want to stop. Stopping means I may not be prepared if something goes wrong.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says.

“Yeah,” I agree with a lazy head nod.

“You say that, but I don’t think you will. Which is why I’m going to.”

My eyes snap open. “What?”

“I’m going to take care of you, Mikah.”

“Why the hell would you do that? I don’t need you to do that. I’m a grown ass man.”

“A grown ass man who had a shitty childhood and needs someone in his life to take care of him. I want to be that person.”

I get to my feet again, whirling to face him.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head.

He smirks. “Yes.”

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