Dirty Thoughts Of Dominic King
1014 Words
~Sasha~
The second the door clicked shut behind me, I kept walking because stopping would have required my legs to cooperate, and my legs had apparently resigned from their positions the moment Dominic wrapped that huge hand around my throat.
I did not look back.
I wanted to look back.
God, I wanted to look back so badly that my neck practically developed a mind of its own, but there was no way I was giving that man the satisfaction of catching me checking whether he had followed me out.
He had not followed me.
At least, I did not think he had.
Maybe he was still standing in there staring at the door with that, hungry look on his face. Maybe he was dragging one of those rough hands over himself, trying to calm down after I had touched him.
Maybe he was thinking about grabbing me, dragging me back inside, bending me over that cold metal table and showing me exactly what happened to mouthy women who walked away from him while he was hard.
My thighs squeezed together so quickly that I nearly tripped.
Jesus Christ, Sasha.
Get a grip.
I pressed my lips together, but a stupid smile still tried to crawl onto my face.
What the hell had I just done?
I had grabbed Dominic King.
I had grabbed a grown man’s c**k less than half an hour after meeting him, stroked it through his jeans like I had years of professional experience ruining dangerous bikers, and then walked out of the room before he could discover that I was bluffing so hard my ancestors were probably watching me from heaven with disappointment.
I did not know where that confidence had come from.
Maybe it had been hiding somewhere beneath all the anger and humiliation I had swallowed tonight. Maybe getting betrayed by your boyfriend, your sister, and your mother in the same evening unlocked a special level of female insanity nobody warned you about.
Maybe heartbreak had finally broken the part of my brain responsible for shame.
Whatever had happened, I needed to find that version of myself again because she was incredible.
She had looked Dominic directly in those terrifying eyes and told him she wanted to get on her knees.
Meanwhile, the real me had never even known what to do with her hands during a normal kiss. I would spend half the time wondering whether they belonged on a man’s shoulders, his chest, his hair, or folded politely behind my back like I was attending a parent-teacher conference.
Yet somehow, when Dominic was standing in front of me with his fingers around my throat and his c**k trying to fight its way through his jeans, my hand had known exactly where it wanted to go.
Traitor.
My palm was still tingling.
I could still feel him underneath it, thick enough that my fingers had not even come close to wrapping around him properly.
He had twitched when I stroked him, and that tiny movement had sent a shock straight between my legs.
I had almost lost my mind right there.
I had almost dropped to my knees.
That was the embarrassing truth I would take to my grave.
For one dangerous second, I had imagined opening his jeans and finding out whether the rest of him matched what I had felt through the denim.
I had imagined looking up at him from the floor while his hand slid into my hair, that calm control finally breaking when I wrapped my lips around him.
I had wondered whether he would stay quiet.
He looked like a quiet man.
A grunting man.
A man who would clench his jaw and try not to give me the satisfaction of hearing how good I made him feel, which only made me want to hear it more.
Would he say my name?
Would he call me little girl in that voice?
Would he tighten his hand in my hair and tell me to take more?
This was becoming a medical emergency.
My body had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be heartbroken.
Could a woman miss a d**k she had only touched through jeans?
There should be research about this.
I continued toward the bar, forcing myself to move normally even though my underwear felt suspiciously damp and every step made me more aware of it.
My v****a was crazy.
Dominic had barely touched me, and she was already outside decorating the venue for their wedding.
Calm down, desperate b***h. He is a stranger.
A stranger with enormous hands.
A stranger who looked at me as though he had already imagined me naked.
Katya spotted me before I reached the bar.
She sat on one of the stools with her elbow resting against the counter and a drink balanced loosely between her fingers. The moment her eyes landed on me, the glass slowly lowered.
Her eyebrows rose.
Then her mouth fell open.
“Oh, my God.”
I stopped in front of her and tried to arrange my face into something innocent.
It was difficult to look innocent when I could still feel the ghost of a man’s erection against my palm.
“What?”
Katya looked me up and down.
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing happened to me.”
“Your face is red.”
“It is hot in here.”
She slowly glanced around the clubhouse.
She turned back to me.
“You have one more chance to lie properly.”
“I do not know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to explain why you walked into that room looking like someone had thrown your entire life into a blender, and you came out looking like a man just taught your p***y how to read.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Katya!”
“What? I am asking as your friend.”
“You are asking loud enough for everyone in this building to become my gynecologist.”
She leaned closer.
“Did he touch you?”
- Writer
