his breath on my face. His gaze burned onto my breasts, just inches from that mouth. His lips parted just enough to draw in a thin stream of air.
I felt the beat pulsing in me. This was my fuck you to the cards I’d been dealt. I would survive. I would make ends meet. And eventually, I would go back to not giving a damn about money.
But first, I would make Dominic suffer like he made me suffer.
With a hand to his chest, I pushed him back against the tufted vinyl banquette, stepping over his legs to straddle him. I wasn’t even settled on his lap yet, but his erection was doing its best to tear its way through his trousers. I could feel it flex through my embarrassingly thin underwear. The man was ruining more pairs of my underwear than I cared to think about.
His fingers flexed in the air, wanting to touch me. Needing to. But still that obnoxious self-control reigned supreme.
Undulating just above the ridge of his hard-on, I looked at him through my lowered lashes. He was wearing another goddamn vest. The sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to the elbows to reveal the tattoos on both forearms. So proper and polished on the outside, but underneath, ink and a hungry monster of a dick.
What did his denial get him? Or me?
Talk about life being unfair.
“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered in his ear.
“No.”
I rose high on my knees, brushing the curve of my breast over the scruff on his jaw. Instinctively, he turned toward me, his mouth open.
“Uh-uh-uh. No touching.” His hands clamped around the edge of the bench, and I was surprised it didn’t rip in two.
I decided to make it much, much worse. I brought my fingers to the knot in my shirt and felt his breath catch. I loosened it, and he swallowed. Tugging it free, I held the material to my breasts, pushing them together before whipping the shirt open.
His groan was pained, eyes glued to my breasts. I felt his erection flex under me.
“Why are you here, Dom?” I breathed, leaning in and nipping at his ear.
The song. The dark. His mouth so close to mine. It was intoxicating.
“Because I can’t fucking leave you alone.” His breath was labored.
My heart rate was through the roof. My hormones careening through my system, making demands I couldn’t meet.
“Why?”
I couldn’t help myself. I swooped in and bit his lower lip, hard.
He growled, an unholy, inhuman sound, and I realized I’d finally pushed the man too far.
Those big hands of his released their grip on the cushion, and then his meaty fingers were sinking into my hips. He yanked me down against him. His erection spearing between my legs.
“I have no fucking control around you.” To prove his point, he thrust against me.
“From where I sit, your control has been annoyingly admirable,” I whispered breathlessly, gyrating against him. The song was reaching its crescendo, and it was now or never. As much as I regretted this entire night, I wasn’t willing to add one more regret to it.
I shifted my hips, driving them forward, up his cock through his pants.
“Don’t fucking do it, Ally,” he warned.
But I didn’t listen, and he didn’t stop me.
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me in your lap riding you.”
I was rocking my hips back and forth in time to the beat that I felt in my bones, in the pulse of my very empty, very needy pussy.
“Lie to me, Dom. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop right now.”
Faster and faster. I was jerking him off with my still-covered lady parts. And I wasn’t going to stop until either he said no or he was the humiliated one.
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, burying his face between my breasts. “I hate how much I want you,” he whispered brokenly, nuzzling at the curves, nipping at the pasties. “I despise the fact that I can’t think of anything else but you.”
My breath was coming in shallow pants, and I was painfully close to an orgasm. But this wasn’t about me. This was about him. We should both have something to be ashamed about from tonight. Some dark secret to keep hidden from the light.
I ground down on him harder, faster, and pulled his face into my breasts as I rode him.
“Ally,” he rasped. “Baby.” One hand in my hair, one on my hip, he gripped hard