Page 88 of Dominate
My orgasm is close. Too close.
I want this to last.
Quickly, I toss a leg over his shoulder and flip us on the bed so he’s on his back and his face is between my legs. I smile at his wide, ravenous eyes and grind on him for a beat before shimmying my way down his beautiful, naked body.
“Sloan,” Gareth states in a warning tone, clearly not pleased that I took his control away so soon.
With a naughty smile, I wrap my lips around his tip. His grunt of surprise is completely worth the spanking I know is coming my way later. I suck him back into my throat a few times, cupping his balls in my hand before releasing him from my lips with an audiblepop.
He sits up and pulls me toward him until I’m positioned astride him. I adjust myself and straighten before sinking down onto his wet, hard erection. The resistance is minimal, but the tightness is intense. I swirl my hips on him, stroking myself over his shaft as I take him inside of me so deep that I can feel the fullness in my belly.
Our eyes lock as I press my hands on his chest for balance and rock, and writhe, and move over top of him. Gareth’s hands cup my breasts, rubbing and groping and rolling my nipples in his big, meaty paws. He pinches them hard, and I yelp out in pain as a swirl of overstimulation creates a frenzy between us. He slaps the side of my ass and begins pumping his hips up off the bed, thrusting into me hard and fast.
Topping from the bottom. The story of our lives.
Our breaths are loud and our moans are soft as we ride this wave of complete give and take all the way to a riotous climax.
And what a climax it is.
Moments later, we’re cleaned up, satiated, and back in my bed.
It’s been a little over a month since we made up at his dad’s house in London, and things have been good between us since.
More than good.
Gareth’s Man U season is complete, but he’s been travelling back and forth to London for England team training in preparation for the World Cup. He comes home to Manchester every chance he gets, though.
Going a week without seeing him was brutal.
Aside from missing Gareth, things have been calmer around here. Steady. Callum is still doing what Callum does best, barely showing up for Sophia on his weekends. Thankfully, Sophia seems to be handling the disappointment well. She has nightly video chats with Gareth that I swear have her smiling in her sleep. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Everything has been nice. Deliciously boring almost.
I’m just beginning to drift off to sleep, happy that Gareth is tucked in behind me again, when his voice cuts into the silence. “I think I’m going to retire from football.”
My eyes open. “Are you talking in your sleep?” I ask, turning my head to look back at him.
“No, I’m wide awake,” he husks and presses a lazy kiss on my shoulder. “I have one more year with Man U before my contract goes up for renewal. I think I want to retire then.”
I turn over to face him, the street light shining in the window, showcasing the deathly serious expression on his face.
“Gareth, be serious,” I reply, entwining my legs with his. “You can’t retire. You’re Gareth Harris. Team captain. Man U star. You’re leaving for Russia in two weeks to play for England. What would you do if you retired?”
“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug and leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. “My accountant tells me I’m quite wealthy, and I’ll have even more money when my Astbury house sells.”
His mention of the house where we were attacked brings a frown to my face.
“None of that,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crinkle forming between my brows. “It was my decision to sell. I told you it has nothing to do with you never wanting to go back there. I just can’t shake the image of those people in my home on that security footage.”
I rest my hand on his cheek as I think back to how awful that night was and how far we’ve come. “Well, you’re not going to just sit around all day eating toffees. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”
He inhales deeply and rubs his hand aimlessly up and down my back. “You’re right. Doing nothing wouldn’t last. The truth is, I am thinking I can be more hands-on with the Kid Kickers program we’re opening in London.”
My body tenses at his mention of London. I already hate the amount of travelling he has to do for his World Cup training in London. Now he’s talking about spending more time there?
I clear my throat and force out an honest reply. “I think you’d be great with Kid Kickers in London.”
“You do?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “So you’d consider it?”
