Page 64 of Whimper Wonderland
Damaged heartsindeed. Our hearts share the same bruises. The same ugly, shameful scars. I close the distance between us. I put my hand to his chest. I can feel that broken heart of his. It’s beating so fast against my palm.
“Your heart,” I tell him. “It’s pounding.”
His jaw locks. He’s revealed too much of himself tonight, and now he’s shutting away again. But I don’t let him. I lean my body against his.
“Book two,” I continue. “Chapter fifteen. The scene where you fuck her in your store. True or false?”
He swallows, that knot in his throat bobbing. “True.”
We’re so close now. I touch my forehead to his. He exhales, and his breath shakes against my lips. “We’re taking control of the narrative. I’m rewriting your story.” I move my hands to his belt. I undo it and the metal clicks in my hands. “Now be a good boy and put your palms behind your back.”
For once, Dorian obeys without question.
He plants his palms on the desk on either side of him, locking them in place. I slide my hands down his form. I push his sweater up, exposing that slim midriff. I dance my fingertips over the bare skin, the soft, dark hairs around his naval, and his muscles contract under my touch. His belt hisses as I slide it from his hips. I reach behind him, wrap thebelt around his wrists, and tighten it. It’s not particularly sturdy, but it will hold him back. For now.
I nestle into the crook of his neck like a cat. He has a clean smell, like aftershave and shampoo, and it mixes in nicely with the heady, earthy smell of paperbacks all around us. I kiss the space underneath his ear, and then draw his earlobe briefly through my teeth.
“Do you want me, Dorian?” I ask.
His breath is light. “More than anything, Boss.”
I bite my lip. “Do you want to know what I think?”
He’s panting against his teeth. This isn’t sub space. This is Dorian barely holding onto to his hinges. “Yes.”
“She might’ve loved you. But Iseeyou. I know you. I know every fucked up part of you, and I’m still here. And I think that scares the hell out of you.”
I nudge my thigh against his groin. He lets out a heavy groan. He’s rock hard against my leg. “Oh, yeah. You feel really…reallyscared.”
I press a line of kisses down his throat and lower myself to my knees. I nestle against the happy trail above his groin and nibble him there.
“Give me a color,” I tell him.
“Green,” he growls. “Bright fucking green.”
His zipper hisses as I pull it down. “Tell me to stop.”
“Stop.”
“Now like you mean it.”
“Please,” his voice is strained. “Please, don’t.”
I pull up my dress and get to my knees. I yank his pants down his thighs and I nestle against the soft cotton of his dark briefs. There’s a patch of wet where he’s leaking for me. I run the flat of my tongue against the cotton and he shivers.
“You don’t think you deserve this, do you? Me on my knees…taking you in my mouth…and sucking you until you explode?”
He moans, voice cracking. “No. I don’t deserve it.”
“Too bad. You’re mine, and I want to worship you.”
I pulls his briefs down, freeing his cock. My mouth waters. Oh, God. I want this. Ireallywant this. I’m seized with a need to cherish this cock. I want to bring Dorian to his knees with more pleasure than Quinn or any woman or any toy in his chest or even his right hand has ever given him.
I want to rewrite his DNA and tangle it up in mine until we’re so entwined, he can’t even remember who he was before he met me.
The floor bites my knees in a wonderful way. I keep my eyes on his face, watching his reactions. I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the powerful muscle grow hot and stiff. I press my tongue against him and slowly run it all the way up to the tip, until I taste the salt of him.
Dorian’s head drops back. His biceps twitch, but his hands are bound behind his back. His eyebrows pinch and he exhales under his breath a swift, reverent: “Jesus fucking Christ, boss.”
