Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2) - Tessa Bailey Page 0,32
parking lot was back. That sense of fullness, being grounded. Talking to Dominic, hearing his words, reminded her who she’d been when talking to him hadn’t been such a rare event, but a constant. It brought back that optimistic, anything-is-possible state of mind. Made her loose, light, and woke up every section of her body from the tips of her breasts down to the softening flesh between her thighs. Before she knew her own intentions, Rosie slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties, running her middle finger through the slickness Dominic had created with his voice. His words.
“Um.” She shuddered as her fingertip grazed her clit. “A-anything else?”
Dominic’s breathing cut out. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said too quickly.
“Where are you?”
“Bethany’s house.”
“Where are you in the house?”
“Lying on the bed,” she rasped.
“Fuck, Rosie. I knew it.”
Her breath caught at the sound of his fist hitting their hallway wall.
“I knew it. You think I’m not well aware when that pussy is wet?”
This had been a mistake. They weren’t on solid-enough ground yet. For all she knew, the therapist would consider phone sex a violation of his rules and . . . and she didn’t want to mess this up. Walking into Armie’s office, she’d been prepared to plow through all four sessions just to say she’d tried. Now, though? Trying seemed like a real option. Dominic was in this. And it seemed like every day they were apart, she was discovering new things about him. Things that made her wonder if the old Dominic was there, right under the surface. So yeah. She didn’t want to do something to jeopardize what little progress they’d made. “I’ll go—”
“You hang up this phone, honey girl, and I’ll kick Bethany’s door down to get to you,” Dominic growled, that dominant side she knew so well coming out to play. “When you’re being a hot little tease like this, I find a way to make you come. Don’t I?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, adding a second fingertip and rubbing her clit in slow, unhurried circles. “You do.”
“You want to talk, Rosie? Let’s talk about Tuesday nights.”
She heard his belt hit the floor, the buckle clacking off the wood, and moisture rushed between her thighs.
“With the exception of last week, you usually come home those nights and go straight to the bedroom. Strip down to your thong and pretend like you left the door cracked by accident. But you know. You know I’m watching you and getting hard. Christ.”
He grunted a curse and Rosie knew he’d wrapped a fist around his erection, could picture his tattooed knuckles stroking up and down that thick column of flesh.
“I should have known something was wrong when you took off your high heels at the door. You usually leave them on Tuesday nights, don’t you? They’re the very last thing that come off when I fuck you, aren’t they?”
Rosie cast a look down the writhing form of her own body, the breasts spilling out of her bra, the panties hiding her moving fingers, ending at the pointed black leather encasing her feet. “I’m wearing them right now.”
“Rosie.” He made a choked sound and she could hear the pace of his strokes pick up. “If you were here, they’d have come off by now. Never can keep them on when I’m thrusting, can you? When I’m hitting you deep and your legs can’t stay still, those size sevens hit the floor faster than your panties.”
If there was one fact that was infinitely true about her husband, it was that he had no problem talking a blue streak when they were like this. Whatever filter he usually kept in place evaporated, and pure, raw sex rolled right off his tongue. She craved his filth. It was a constant between them. His obsession with her body was the one thing she could count on one hundred percent. Tonight, though? Tonight, after having read his letter, talked to him, Dominic’s filth was even more effective. The insides of her thighs were coated with the evidence of that. She wished she could smell that faint tobacco scent he carried everywhere. The one he seemed to think she minded, but she actually craved. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and her hips arched, circled, arched, two fingers using the ample moisture to massage her swelling clit.
“Dominic,” she gasped, feeling her walls start to quicken, that low, low thrum in her belly going from a ten to an eleven. “I want you to come.”