Page 79 of Dominate
“Bad service?” Hobo chirps from beside me, shooting a drink of water into his mouth.
I stand up and turn on my heel, yanking my clean T-shirt off the hanger. “Not bad service. I’m just losing it I guess.”
“What’s going on, Harris? Talk to me,” Hobo says, propping himself back inside the cubby next to me and blinking his eyes up at me coyly. “Brandi says it’s good for us to talk about our feelings.”
I step into a pair of jeans and button them up, cutting Hobo an unamused expression as I fix my shirt. “Sloan sounds like she’s going to move back to America.”
“What?” Hobo asks, his voice high-pitched and surprised as he leans forward on his chair. “When?”
I exhale heavily and sit down beside him, facing forward with my elbows on my knees and my head hanging low. “I don’t know. She didn’t exactly say that, but she sounds…different. She got a boatload of money today from her ex-mother-in-law, and I feel like everything is about to change.”
I can feel Hobo’s eyes on me as he asks, “What kind of strings are attached to this boatload of money you speak of?”
I shrug, my dark mood darkening further. “She didn’t say there are strings. Said she signed some papers and that was that. Seemed so simple.”
Hobo nudges me in the leg. “My father is British and comes from old money like the Coleridge’s. One thing I know about the wealthy British is that they don’t do anything without strings. You have seen that with Kid Kickers sponsors, I’m sure. Rich people are always serving some sort of selfish goal. Your brother would like that pun, yes?”
I huff out a small laugh, surprised that there’s anything Hobo can say to lighten my mood. “Yes, Camden would like that pun. But what do I do about this? Sloan doesn’t seem to want my help. She already refused to have my family lawyer with her today. She thought it would antagonise Callum unnecessarily.”
“Perhaps you should have your lawyer look at whatever she signed. Check out her paperwork and such. It can’t hurt, no?”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll give Santino a call and see what he thinks.”
“Super,” Hobo replies with a smile. “This will be fine, Gareth. Sloan is not going to move back to America. There is far too much to keep her here.”
I look over and shake my head at him. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”
Gareth is unusually quiet at dinner. I thought he’d have questions about my meeting today, but he doesn’t bring it up again. I thought he’d have fun with Sophia and the dog in the backyard, but he’s quiet. Solemn. He sits beside me on the patio as we watch Sophia toss a ball for Rex, but his mind is in another place. Maybe all the extra training he’s doing for the World Cup is finally catching up to him? I know he’s nearing the end of the regular season for Man U and his team isn’t finishing out as strongly as he’d like. As the team captain, I’ve seen how heavily that weighs on him.
But something is off about him.
When I get ready for bed, he finds me inside my closet and reaches around me from behind to hold my body to his. He’s silent as his lips touch my shoulder and he kisses a slow path up my neck. When he reaches my cheek, he silently commands me to turn my head so he can have my lips.
I give them to him willingly because I’m hopeful it brings him back to me. His firm hands rub me over top of my clothes, hard and almost painful. He palms my mound and squeezes my breasts so firmly, I cry out into his mouth, the hard caress causing all the blood to rush between my legs.
Without a word, he turns me around and carries me to my bed, pausing to lock the door. He drops me on my back, leaning over to remove my top. Then he hooks the sides of my pyjama bottoms and slides them down with my panties. I quickly move myself up to the top of the bed, my breath heavy in response to the dark look in his eyes.
I lie naked and waiting as he yanks his shirt off over his head and slowly pushes his shorts down so low, all I see are the defined lines of his hipbones and a light smattering of dark hair disappearing into the waistband.
He is all man right now. From his body, to his posture, to the possessive look in his eyes. It’s overwhelming.
His eyes lower down to the damp area between my legs. My body involuntarily squirms against the mattress in anticipation for what’s to come.
“Touch yourself for me, Sloan,” he commands, his voice low and guttural.
My head tilts. “What?”
He licks his lips, not an ounce of teasing on his face. “I want you to touch yourself.”
I exhale a breathy sigh while my hand reluctantly moves to my centre. His eyes narrow as I slowly begin to circle my clit. I’m not using any magnificent technique, but watching him watch me is extremely arousing all on its own.
“Do you remember the first time you made me touch myself, Treacle?” he asks, his voice tight.
Our first night together flashes in my mind. My hips lift upward as I ride my hand and moan out, “Yes.”
“There’s a beauty in this kind of surrender, isn’t there? Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” I moan out again as Gareth slowly reaches inside his shorts and pulls out his thick, long cock.
