Page 117 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
I laughed. “We’re barely twenty minutes in.”
“Exactly. Think of how much more fun we could have in two whole weeks.”
My breath stuttered when he started lathering my breasts, stealthily toying with my nipples in the process. “And what happens after the two weeks are up?”
“I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. If you say no, we move on to phase two of my groveling plan. If you say yes, we still move on to phase two of my groveling plan, but, in addition, I’ll have enough mental capacity to simultaneously plot how I’m going to ruin Rachel’s life.”
I tensed. “And what if I ask you to leave her alone?”
His hands froze. “Let’s chat again in two weeks, once you’ve had time to fully digest what she did.”
“You said you want to move on. How do you think that’ll work out for us if we keep tangling ourselves up in stuff that happened in the past?”
There was no immediate rebuttal. He knew I had a point.
“I never want to see her again,” I whispered. “I don’t want to talk to her, or think about her, or let her take up any more space in my life. I’m so tired of being angry. I just… I can’t keep…”
The second my voice wavered, he squeezed me possessively to his chest. “Okay. All right,” he murmured in a soothing cadence. “I’ll let it go.”
“Really?”
“Really. You have my word.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and leaned my head back on his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional. Yesterday was a lot. I’m still feeling a little raw.” Not to mention, I still had no idea how the hell I was going to break the news to my family. With a sniffle, I lifted my hand and gave the back of his head an affectionate scratch. He groaned, nuzzling my neck. “This is helping quite a bit, though. So, thank you.”
One day, when I wasn’t feeling quite so brittle, I’d return the favor.
Though we wouldn’t be sitting on the bench together. He’d be lounging on it alone while I wrecked my knees, sucking his brain cells out of his dick. He had more than enough to spare; it’d probably be fine.
A flutter sprinted through my core at the thought.I wonder if he’ll let me do it now.
“Dom?”
His dick strained against my back like it’d picked up the slight shift in my tone. My mouth watered.
He kissed the crook of my shoulder in lieu of a verbal response.
“How is this going to work, exactly? What, um, are your duties? Because I had a task list to work off of.”
His palm shifted to my lower stomach before traveling down. “They’re whatever you want them to be. I’ll do whatever you ask. That’s the point.”
I swallowed. “Definewhatever.”
He grinned into my skin, then dragged his blazing tongue up the side of my neck. I shivered, and he gave an involuntary roll of his hips. “I’d much rather show you, if that’s okay. But let’s finish up here and dry off first, shall we?” I gasped when his soapy hand shoved between my thighs. He moaned into my hair when his fingers slipped right over my slick-covered center. “Jesus, you’re dripping all over the bench.”
I’d have answered if my teeth weren’t clamped so tightly over my bottom lip.
“Open your legs for me.”
I did as instructed, my pulse jumping when he reached for the detached showerhead again. It turned on.
“Wider,” he said.
I moaned when the water was redirected, clenching around nothing. Dominic used his fingers to spread me open, fully exposing my clit to the teasing stream. My eyes hit the back of my head that time.
“What I would fucking give for a mirror right now,” he growled, splitting me wider as he moved the head closer.
I thrashed when the pressure changed, increasing slightly as most of the water was pushed into a more concentrated area. I tried to close my legs, but he hooked his arm under my left thigh and pulled it up.
