Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,18
It made me tingle with too much interest when he spoke like that. I’d promised him—myself, too—that I wouldn’t ask anything sexual of him.
I’d almost slipped, just that once. My toe nudging the hard bulge of his cock, and the sinfully pornographic gasp of pleasure that had racked his body. I’d wanted to keep going, to test the limits of how steady and still he could hold while I drew him to the edge, right there in public—
But no. Not while he was in God only knew what frame of mind thanks to that asshole who’d dared to hurt him.
Letting it continue between us would be a mistake. Because what he didn’t know yet was that I was just as bad as Isaac in my own way—the rest of the world just hadn’t figured it out yet.
The jokes and laughter that hid the cold brutality and the cravings for unspeakable things, of pain and blood and hurt… I hated them in Isaac most of all because they were a mirror to the parts of me I feared.
No, I didn’t fear them. I feared what they would do to this boy in particular.
“Are you angry?” Slate asked quietly, startling me. I spun on my heel to look at him, my eyes wide. His face was upturned, seeking answers more than anything.
Christ. Had he sensed my shift in energy that easily? It made my gut churn, thinking of anyone being able to see behind my mask. I’d practiced it for long enough. It had to be a coincidence.
“No,” I told him quickly and firmly. “No, boy. I’m not.”
A quiet sigh escaped, and a smile touched his lips. He closed his eyes. “Good,” he hummed. It sounded almost like he’d been drinking, he was so hazy.
I closed the box and set it on the counter, then came around the end.
Fuck. Slate needed aftercare, and I was too caught up in my own mental crap. I twitched my fingers in a gesture for him to stand up.
He rose without hesitation, his eyes filled with a trust I didn’t deserve. Anger sparked in my chest again. Oh, you sweet boy, but so dumb for trusting me, I thought, pressing my lips together.
I wrapped my arms around him anyway, squeezing hard. Doing my duty. Pulling him back to Earth from outer space.
He was solid in my arms, like a brick wall. Yet he’d been so fluid, so graceful when he sank to the ground, kneeling for me. That dichotomy fascinated me.
I was the same tough, no-nonsense Dominant all the way through. What you saw was what you got. But Slate? He had layers to him—layers that made me want to dig into him and pick him apart.
It was impossible to ignore Slate’s skin on display like a buffet. My palms were hot against his back, and my fingers spread of their own accord. My fingertips pressed in, his muscles shifting and denting under the touch, right under my nose.
The buckle of Slate’s harness dug into my rib, and I shifted against him to ease the pressure. My thigh slid between his legs, and his breath hitched as he shivered against me.
It took all my strength to ignore his cues. My instinct wanted to press Slate down against a table and run my hands up his body until he begged for release. I wanted to wring every droplet of pleasure from him, for hours on end.
After a few seconds—the normal length of a hug—Slate’s grip loosened awkwardly, but I wasn’t fooled. I kept holding him, my hand sliding to the back of his head. Keeping him there, in place.
Waiting.
Slate’s breathing hitched, and his weight shifted away from me, and still I held on.
There. He gulped hard, his arms suddenly going around my back again, the stiffness draining away all at once. He was clinging to me, desperately, like I was his last lifeline.
There we go.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmured, scratching my fingers into his scalp in tiny circles, soothing and steadying him until he was ready. “Take your time.”
“I forgot,” Slate swallowed hard again, turning his head until his nose pressed into my jaw. Nuzzling softly, like a cat. The intimacy, sudden and startling, shocked me out of my rhythm. “How strange it is. Coming out of that place.”
“Yes,” I murmured, distant. My heart thumped, fear filling my throat once again. Fuck me, he called to something within me that utterly scared me. Particularly because it didn’t feel wrong.