Who's on Top? Page 12

  But she wants me, she wants me! She’s not indifferent…she dressed for me to seduce her.

  Jane’s wrap blouse slid up a bit as she bent over the table again to line up a shot, and her low-slung black pants dipped down. He bit his tongue hard as a fuchsia T-strap became visible.

  Jane wore a hot-pink thong.

  As the image sank into his overheated brain, he vaguely took in the wildly improbable sight of the eight ball hurtling toward a corner pocket.

  Expertly Jane sank it, wriggled lower into her pants again and propped her stick against the wall.

  “Thanks for the game, Dominic,” she said. And then she turned on her hoochie-mama heel and headed for the door.

  14

  DOMINIC GAZED IN DISBELIEF at the cold reality of the pub door. So did the round dozen of men lined up along the bar.

  “Awwww, maaaaan,” somebody said. “She smoked you and threw you away!”“Ground you under her heel,” said another guy, nodding.

  “Stubbed you out in a dirty ashtray,” added a third—quite unnecessarily, in Dom’s opinion. He glared at them and they subsided.

  Yeah, she’d made a brand-name butt out of him. He felt a lot like a Camel—one with a ring through his nose and a couple of dry humps.

  Humiliation, hot and sour, shot through his veins, followed by cold fury. And then, unexpectedly, admiration. Badass little psych major.

  Dominic leaned weakly over the back of a chair as waves of laughter convulsed him. Damn her, she’d turned the tables on him again.

  He laughed until his ribs hurt and he noticed that the guys at the bar were collectively staring at him, shaking their heads. They thought he was a loon. That he’d let down the male team. They found nothing funny in him being bested.

  He grabbed his leather jacket, slapped a couple of bills on the bar. Time to go. He’d taken two steps toward the door when it opened again.

  Jane stood there, her dark curls blowing in the breeze. And she threw him yet another curveball. “Would you like to come, Dominic?”

  He caught it gloveless and drove it home. “Why, yes. Hard. Would you like to come, Jane?”

  THE ENTIRE BAR ERUPTED IN whoops and hollers. Guys knocked over their stools to high-five Dom and each other; clink bottles; pump their fists in the air.

  Jane could have fried an egg on her face as she stood there mute, frantically trying to think of a—oh, God, a come back. Pig! But she richly deserved his response. No question about it.He sauntered toward her, triumph on his face. She just had to, had to wipe it off. Her brain came through for her at last. “Oh, thanks for the offer. But I’ve already done that. All by myself.”

  The bar exploded again, and an expression of reluctant admiration crossed Dominic’s face. She prayed to God that none of the patrons knew her father or her brother.

  For the second time that evening Jane turned on her hot-pink heel and let the door slam behind her. Only this time he followed, and she tripped.

  Dominic’s right arm caught her—a ledge of muscle right under her breasts. He pulled her backward, hard against him. Hard against what she’d been toying with that evening.

  His other arm encircled her waist, his hand hot against her abdomen.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked and buried his face in her hair.

  Jane’s entire body began to tremble. She felt his stubbled jaw brush the tender skin at the back of her neck. His lips nuzzled the hollow at the base of her skull; kissed her there; parted the unruly hair. And then he licked, foraying with his tongue, exploring tenderly an area no man had ever noticed before. She shuddered with the simplicity of it, the odd intimacy. Her body shook again—every muscle participating—and Jane could taste her fear.

  She knew without any further communication or touch between them that this one man would cause her to lose control. That he’d reduce her to blind, sobbing need if she allowed his lips to travel downward from her nape. She trembled, she fought with her body and her personality and her desire. And finally she ceded power. Jane placed her hands over his big ones. She drew one of them up to cover her breast. She urged one of them down.

  Dom sighed into her hair and tightened his arms around her, pressing into every inch of her. Then he turned her around to face him, touched his lips to hers and took her by the hand. He led her to his car and drove them to his apartment.

  DOM LIT A SINGLE CANDLE AND his gas fireplace.

  Jane got a vague impression of simple Scandinavian furniture, modern rugs and state-of-the-art technology. She didn’t have much time to take in her surroundings because Dominic was unbuttoning his cuffs and then removing his shirt. She watched him awkwardly, suddenly shy despite her take-no-prisoners outfit and brave words earlier.He dropped his shirt deliberately upon the head of an orange cat that had emerged from under a sofa. The cat disappeared—a cooperative roommate leaving the scene.

  Jane couldn’t look away from Dom’s chest—broad, solid, warm. He cocked his head at her and gazed right back.

  “Drink?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Okay. Excuse me for one minute.” Dom left the living room and disappeared into what was probably his bedroom. When he returned, he held a tie in one hand and a box of condoms in the other. He dropped the latter on the hearth and put the tie in her hands. She blinked at it.

  He took a step back. “If you only knew the things that I want to do to you, sweet Jane, you’d run right out that door. I’m afraid of losing control.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He stroked her cheek. “I know that about you.” He turned away—she heard the jingle of a belt buckle—and he stepped out of his pants, baring a smooth, golden backside and the most muscular thighs she’d ever seen. All moisture vanished from her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat. The flickering light danced along his skin, bathed his broad back in darker bronze. She knew the oddest desire to lick his spine…from the cleft of his buttocks upward to the suave triangle of hair at his nape.

  Something in the core of her began to melt, drip like hot candle wax into secret places.

  Dominic turned finally to face her. Stood tall and proud and gloriously well hung in front of her. Then he stepped forward and extended his hands. “Tie them,” he said.

  “Wh-what?”

  “If you don’t tie them, honey, and right now, I’m going to make you pay for every second I’ve wanted you. Since the day I walked into your office. And especially for what you did to me tonight. Knowing your personality, I just don’t think you’re ready for that. Not yet.”

  Oh. My. God. The candle wax turned to lava and surged between her legs.

  How in the hell did he know that about her? How did he know to talk to her this way? How did he know she wanted to run…but that she also wanted him to catch her?

  “Tie my hands,” he said again.

  And she did. She wound the yellow-and-blue silk of the tie around and between his wrists, pulling the ends tightly into a knot.

  He tested it and sighed with regret. “You got me.” And Dominic surprised her all over again by dropping to his knees. “Kiss me.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. Then she walked to him, put her hands on his shoulders and put her mouth against his. She tasted him, bit his chin. She bit his lower lip next, and he retaliated gently, sucking her top lip into his mouth. A deep, guttural rumble came from his chest, and she swayed against him. His lips swept down her neck, licked under her silver chain, took the arrow into his mouth. It clicked against his teeth as he released it and moved lower to nuzzle between her breasts.

  Almost unconsciously she untied the knot at her waist and slipped the wrap blouse off her shoulders, baring her hot-pink lace bra. He sat back and groaned, then buried his face between her breasts. She felt his tongue slip under the lace, pull it from her nipples, take one in his mouth. Her knees buckled and she fell forward, forcing him back, and he lay on the hearth, his tied hands now over his head.

  “Bring them
to me, darlin’.”

  She straddled him and unhooked her bra, dangling her breasts over his mouth until he drew them into the wet heat and to the exquisite torture of his tongue.

  Her thighs, spread across his flat belly, gave way and melted, and she gasped as orgasm ripped through her. “No…” she moaned. She’d lost her chance at a “real” orgasm again.

  “Yes,” he urged. “It’s okay. Come to me Jane, come for me. We’ll make more, honey. Lots more, bigger and better.” He sucked hard again on a nipple and she convulsed again, shaking against him.

  Pants…she had to get her pants off. He chuckled as she removed them in record time and straddled him again, rubbing against his erection, undone by the sudden plea she saw in his eyes. She rolled on a condom over him, then raised herself and sank down upon him, watched his eyes go almost blind. She rose and fell, rose and fell, climbed and shattered again—as did Dom this time.

  The orgasm hit her without warning, ripped through her, shook her like a rag doll. It scared her senseless and so did he. Jane was on top, no doubt about it, but she’d never been more out of control in her life.

  HER DEFENSES RETURNED WITH consciousness. Her thighs were heavy. And oh, God, she’d sounded like a moose in labor…what must he think of her? She was sitting astride the man as if he were a Harley, and the orange cat came out again and simply stared at her before retreating again.

  “I should go,” she said shakily. Goal achieved. So that was what all the fuss was about. Her climax with Dom inside had been deeper, earthier, more explosive than any other. She felt more vulnerable and exposed than she ever had in her life. She didn’t like it.His eyes opened and his gaze roamed over her lazily, resting appreciatively on her breasts, traveling down to her belly—she winced; it wasn’t nearly as flat as his—and finally to the juncture of her thighs. She wished she could squeeze them together and hide that part of her. But he was somewhat in the way.

  “I do hope,” he said, “that you’re planning to untie me first.”

  The alternative struck her, and she grinned, forgetting her self-consciousness for a moment.

  His eyes narrowed and she relented.

  “If you insist.” Jane slid off him and bent over his wrists. A few deft movements with her fingers and he was free.

  She crawled in the direction of her pants and fished the hot-pink thong out of them while he watched. She stood and slid it on, then bent for her pants.

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Dominic, his breath hot and ragged against her bare bottom.

  She squeaked as he bit her—not entirely gently—on the cheek. And then, using her thong as a harness, he pulled her to him and spun her around to face him.

  He kissed her there, through the pink silk, his hands hot and firm on her bottom. His tongue danced against her and she couldn’t get away—did she want to get away?—and her knees began to buckle again. Her thighs quivered. He lifted her right one, set it on his shoulder and slipped his tongue under the thong. With a cry she fell back, but he caught her, spread her even wider, deposited her into a chair. He laved her until she was incoherent, begging, liquid.

  And then he was inside her, filling her, stroking her deep within, her ankles on his shoulders and her heart in his mouth.

  Just as suddenly he slid out of her, and then his hands caressed her breasts, cupping them, kneading them, squeezing them together so that both her nipples were in his mouth at the same time.

  Please, she heard someone begging. Oh, please, please, please… And he was inside her again, sliding her back and forth, glistening and shimmering within her like a silver arrow. It sang along her every nerve, pointing dangerously toward her heart.

  She was nothing but sensation and spirit and pleasure. She was the key at the end of a kite in a thunderstorm.

  She was going to come apart well and truly this time, shatter to the ends of the earth—

  And then he stopped, withdrew! “Look at me, Jane.” Outraged, she did, because she had to focus on him in order to kill him. She opened her eyes and saw his own, her body still on the verge of delicious chaos.

  “Do you really want all the power, honey? Isn’t it good to give it up sometimes?”

  She closed her eyes again. I’ll put him through a wood-chipper later. She tugged on his shoulders but he wouldn’t budge—just grinned at her knowingly.

  “Say ‘uncle,’” he demanded.

  “I hate you.”

  His hand slid between her legs and she shuddered. “Say it, Jane.”

  “Uncle,” she muttered.

  He teased her with the head of his shaft, rubbed her with cruel intent.

  “What was that, honey? I couldn’t hear you.” He slid a couple of inches inside.

  Her orgasm stirred restlessly, just out of reach, and she squirmed, desperate for release. “Uncle,” she moaned.

  He slid in an inch farther and took a nipple into his mouth, sucked hard.

  A rush of sensation lapped at her, but he stopped again.

  “Uncle!” she shouted, and Dominic, with a diabolical chuckle, gave her all she wanted.

  Lightning hit her—electrified her—and the wind took her away and wrapped her in clouds of sensation. A long time later, she fell to earth sated.

  NEEDLESS TO SAY, SHE GOT HIM back. The process involved her mouth, a bottle of warm Hershey’s syrup and much swearing on his part.

  “So you’ll watch The English Patient with me if I continue?”“Yes, damn you!”

  “You’ll wash and wax my car?”

  “Ohhhh. Huh? Sure…”

  She laughed and licked him while he clutched her shoulders. “And you’ll dance around with my pink thong on your head?”

  He answered with a string of heartfelt curses.

  “Was that a yes?”

  She loved having him at her mercy. Almost as much as she loved being at his. She might be the one currently on her knees, but he was helpless in her mouth.

  Ooops. Not quite helpless. He was out of the chair and on top of her now, and within moments she experienced the sunrise as she watched it, still trembling with aftershocks.

  Dom smiled at her and propped himself up on his elbows. He reached over to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. Then he turned mock serious. “No sickening chick flicks. No car waxing! And no thongs on my head.”

  “But you promised,” she teased.

  “My testicles were crossed.”

  They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  15

  JANE AWOKE IN DOMINIC’S BED, with her head pillowed on his divinely warm shoulder. He smelled contradictory and wonderful: of soap and sex, deodorant and musk, heaven and homemade sin.

  His sheets were soft against her aching, sated body and she didn’t want to move. But consciousness drifted slowly into her sleep-fogged mind, and along with it came an unwelcome guest: remorse. She’d slept with a client! No, worse than a client—she’d slept with the subject of her evaluation.There was low-down, and then there was subterranean! And Jane had to put herself in the second category. What she’d just done was unethical and unprofessional.

  She opened her eyes only to behold another head on Dom’s opposite shoulder. An orange, furry one with unblinking yellow eyes that stared into her own without the slightest embarrassment. The expression on the cat’s face held disdain mingled with curiosity.

  “That’s Rusty,” said Dom. “He’s a little territorial, and you’re on his preferred shoulder. He always gets the left one.”

  “Good morning, Rusty. Will you ever forgive me?”

  “He’ll think about it,” Dom told her and kissed her. He dislodged the cat as he rolled and cupped her breast in his large hand. A perfect fit.

  Even as she drew back, her nipple budded under his touch.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dom growled as she moved. A funny little spark shot through her body at the tone of his voice; the rumble of it from his chest. She still thrummed from last night.

  Yeah, you idi
ot. And you’d better thrum right on out of here. “I have to go,” she said.

  He folded his arms under his head and eyed her lazily; moved his hips and popped a tent with the sheet. “Kum Fu doesn’t want you to go.” His grin almost melted her.

  She swallowed. You have to write a professional evaluation of this guy and you know what he calls his most private part! Worse, you got Kum Fu’d four times last night….

  “Kum Fu could shatter a stack of bricks right now,” he continued.

  She shook her head at him. “You better stick him in a bowl of ice water and get some pants on, because my car is still at the Dog, and I have to go to work. So do you.”

  “Spoilsport.” But he got up.

  She tried not to look longingly at his magnificent body, but she was a red-blooded woman and it was simply impossible. Those thighs of his…they’d been between hers last night. They’d pumped till she’d been delirious and she’d bitten his pectorals. She’d muffled her cries in the hollow of his throat. And she wanted to run her hands all over his body again….

  No. What she wanted was a shower, a hot cup of coffee and a business suit that covered her from neck to ankles. Tailored. Severe. Gray. Dignified.

  He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, yawning, and then marched naked toward the kitchen, past the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Coffee?” he called.

  She grabbed the sheet off the bed and trailed him, since all of her clothes were strewn across his living room.

  “Do you always brew it naked?”

  “Yup. Dominic’s Hot Naked Special.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t turn that down.”

  “You want Dom’s Hot Naked Eggs, too?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got to get home, really.”

  “All in good time, darlin’. You don’t let me have coffee, I’ll run us straight into a tree.” She watched him set the glass carafe under the coffeemaker and switch it on. Then he strolled back out into the living room. He plucked her hot-pink thong from the hearth and twirled it around on his finger, grinning.