His Games, Her Rules

“Dom,” I manage to find my voice.

He’s too close. Too fucking close and with the way he’s oozing off sex appeal, I don’t think I have any self-control left in me.

His hand is wrapped around my neck, and he’s careful not to press down on my throat.

“Yes, babe,” he whispers against my lips, his lips gently brushing against mine.

What are we doing?

One minute ago he was helping me bring down coffee powder and sugar from the top cabinet, and now he’s pressing me against the sink with his body pressed against mine.

And why does this feel so good and so right?ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

I hate to think our body fits perfectly against each other like they’re made for each other. He’s swept me off my feet and this new feeling is overwhelming, overpowering, yet so wrong, but right.

“There you are,” a familiar voice says, breaking us from this little spell we found ourselves. Dominique clears his throat as he shifts back as we turn toward the source of the voice.

Oliver is standing in the kitchen, a knowing smirk on his lips as he stares at Dominique and me.

“Boy, bad timing, huh?” Oliver says as he looks at me for a second before shifting his gaze toward Dominique.

“Shut up.” Dominique glares at Oliver as he steps away from me and turns toward his friend.

“Hey, Robyn.” Oliver flashes me a small smile.

I rub my nape, slightly embarrassed. “Hey, Oliver.”

“Alright. We are late and the rehearsal wedding starts soon. Camilla wants you there since you’re family.”

“Right.” Dominique exhales and runs his fingers through his hair, messing up the strands a little. “Where’s Leo?”

“At the beach with the rest of the family.”

“Sure,” Dominique says and turns to look at me. “Try to get some rest. I would like it if we continue from where we stopped.” Oh, you wish.

With a seductive smirk playing on his full lips, Dominique steps out of the kitchen with Oliver as I watch them walk toward the elevator, step inside, and then it slides shut.

I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as I shut my eyes. What the hell just happened?

I can’t sleep even though I try to. I took my shower after I had coffee, ibuprofen, and even breakfast. Dominique had texted me an hour ago, asking me if I was resting. Strangely, I’d gone through the text a million times, reading the words over and over again as if he just confessed he loved me over text while convincing myself I was slowly going insane.

He’s driving me insane.

I had written out a reply, erased it, rewrote it, and erased it until I decided not to send anything. He’s everywhere in my goddamn head, messing with my brain. He’s all I can think about as I reply to Monique’s messages and Noah and Tiwa’s constant messages asking me if Dominique and I have finally had sex again.

I groan and toss my phone aside as I shut my eyes. I’m lying on the bed, sexually frustrated and horny. I’ve been on the edge ever since that night at the restaurant when he dared me to touch myself. The sensitive skin in between my legs is aching with need, desperately craving the touch of one particular blue-eyed man, with golden skin, tall, a strong muscular body, tattoos, and lips that can send me straight to hell and back. Dominique fucking Gray. I wonder what would have happened between us if Oliver hadn’t interrupted. My guess, something dirty and erotic.

Desperately needing release while also trying to forget what made me turn to alcohol last night, I run my fingers down my stomach, slowly trailing my palm downward and sneaking past the waistline of my shorts. I’m not wearing panties, all thanks to Dominique last night when he helped me put this on. My fingers find my folds as I slide a singer finger along my opening, my fingers coated with my wetness.

I spread my legs apart, my teeth biting onto my bottom lip as I slip my finger under my PJ top, past the hem until I’m palming my breast. I squeeze and pinch my nipple as I rub a little circle around my throbbing clit.

“Fuck.” I moan.

Memories of Dominique’s hands on my body, the night he went down on me in that hallway during the charity gala, the day he pressed me against the sink when I tried to drop back the coffee, and finally today’s memory flash through my closed eyelids. I go through every filthy memory as I touch myself, rubbing circles on my clit while I tease my nipple.

“Oh, God. Fuck.” I moan as I slip one single finger in, pushing past the wetness in between my legs as I start to finger myself.

“Hmm,” a breathless moan escapes my lips and I moan Dominique’s name before I can stop myself.

I add a second finger, curling the finger toward the perfect angle until I’m touching the perfect spot. I begin to slide in both fingers and then I slide out, savoring every emotion. I twist my nipple in between my fingers, rolling the red hard bud as I moan again, spewing different profanities that I don’t even understand.

Slowly, I peel my eyes slightly open, the eyelids heavy with lust as I lock them on a figure by the door. I spring my eyes open at once, slipping my hand out of my shorts as I sit up at once, my mouth slightly open at the figure standing by the open door.

Dominique Gray in his full glory, standing by the open door, lust in his piercing blue orbs. I bring my gaze down his body as I linger on the tightness in his pants and the evident bulge straining against the material of his pants.

How long has he been standing there? Judging by his erection, long enough to hear me moan his name.

Shit.

“I was gonna call for your attention,” he pauses for a second as he peels himself off the door and stalks toward me like a predator. “But then you moaned my fucking name.”

I shudder at the deep sound of his voice. So sexy.

“Tell me, Robyn, why did you moan my name?”

I bet he already knows the answer to that. He’s trying to fuck with my head.

“Were you thinking of my mouth and my fingers on you instead as you touched yourself?” He asks, his voice gruff and sexy as he stops by the bed, his hands still in his pockets.

“Answer me,” his tone is commanding.

“Yes,” the word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

Dominique smirks, his undivided attention on me. “Why did you stop?” He asks. His baritone and the filthy meaning behind his words send electricity down my spine and the rush of blood straight to the nerves in between my legs.

“You caught me, that’s why.”

“Right,” he turns and I watch him walk toward the couch in the corner of the room. Slowly, he plants himself on the couch, his arms splayed out as he looks at me.

There is lust in his eyes and something else entirely. He looks like a predator, waiting in the dark, watching, and waiting for his prey. In this scenario, I’m his prey and I want him to prey on my body.

“I want you to pretend I’m not here, Robyn, I want you to continue, don’t stop.” he voices out, his tone a commanding one and I love it. “Lay back, spread those pretty legs of yours, and touch yourself.”