Page 186 of By A Thread
“Tell me.”
But he was too busy biting and nipping his way down the back of my neck.
One hand roughly shoved its way into the top of my dress and palmed my breast.
Pushing away from the wall, I turned in his arms and spun us so his back was against the wall.
“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly as I unbuckled his belt.
“Just re-enacting a little fantasy of my own,” I whispered. I let my teeth graze his jaw and then pushed back, slowly sinking to my knees.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Take out your dick, Dom, and tell me what you want me to do.”
If his jaw got any tighter, enamel would shatter, bone would crack. Oh, how I loved pushing the birthday boy’s buttons.
“Ally.” There was a warning in the way he said my name. I decided to ignore the warning.
I waited where I was on my knees. The neckline of my dress clinging precariously to my breasts. My hair a mess from his hands. I knew exactly what kind of picture I was painting for him.
“Come here,” he said gruffly.
I crawled to him, savoring the flare of his nostrils, the white-knuckled grip he kept on his control. The sound of his zipper was like music to my ears.
I stopped in front of him and watched as he fisted his shaft at the root. I licked my lips.
“Taste it,” he ordered.
Dutifully, I took that hot, velvety crown into my mouth and ran my tongue in a circle.
He hissed out a breath and shoved a hand into my hair.
“You make such a beautiful fucking picture right now, Ally.”
As a reward, I took a little more of him into my mouth.
His head hit the wall behind him. I hoped not hard enough for a concussion. I hummed my pleasure against his flesh.
I could taste him. Could feel the pulse of blood beneath his skin with my tongue. He fed another inch into my mouth and held my head still with his hand in my hair.
The guttural growl that rose up from his chest had me squeezing my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building there. This wasn’t my life, I decided. Any minute now, I was going to wake up in a ditch somewhere after having been hit by a bus and not know how powerful it felt to have Dominic Russo’s cock in my mouth.
But until then, I was going to savor every damn second of this.
I slid my mouth over him as far down as I could go without choking. My lips brushed his fingers.
“Ally,” he rasped again. I reveled in hearing my name. If it had been hot hearing him hiss out my name while pleasuring himself in secret, this was a five-alarm inferno, and I was getting burned.
I rocked forward and back, laving his shaft, the blunt crown, that sensitive slit with my tongue. He was gritting out dirty promises and praise while I sucked his cock. The fabric of my dress was teasing my nipples, making them beg for more.
The noises we both made were inhuman, and if Brownie hadn’t been passed out upside down on the couch, he would have been growling at the door to the foyer.
I wanted him inside me. I wanted to pull his hair and bite his neck. I wanted to come. But more than all of that combined, I wanted to taste him.
“You need to slow down,” he warned, his voice unsteady as I rocked faster, sucked harder.
But I wasn’t slowing down, and I sure as hell wasn’t stopping.
