38. It’s Been Years

Leonie

For at least an hour, I tried to get myself off in my bedroom. But I just felt dirty. Dirty for sleeping with my best friend’s brother, not once, twice or even three times, but five. I felt dirtier at the fact I could only get off on the thought of him. How I still wanted him. How I didn’t care that he’d kissed me for Jack to see.

LEONIE: Come back.

Because, despite it all, I was weak. I wanted to believe what he had said. Despite all the hurt he had caused me when I needed him most… I needed him now. Not just for sex. I needed him.

Dom didn’t reply.

Even in the shower, using the water pressure, my mind was just not in the right place. And I’d lead myself on by grinding on Jack’s lap, from his sweet, gentle kisses and Dom’s dominating mouth.

I groaned to release some of the tension as I turned off the stream of water and then half-heartedly threw the towel to my chest before walking out into the living room.

There, in all his frustrating, masculine dickheadery, he sat.

The menace himself on my sofa, head bent, reading ‘Erotic Intelligence: How to Pleasure Yourself’.

I lifted both hands to my chest, contemplating whether to cover my back or not as he stared at me, taking in every inch of my skin. His ankle rested on his knee, and because he was reading, he had those bloody glasses on.

I hated him.

Because, right now, I knew I could quite easily come in his presence.

So I leaned my wet body against the wall and let go of the towel just a little. It fell slightly, revealing one of my breasts.

My nipple was hard because of those glasses.

He leaned over, eyes intent on the newly revealed skin. “You asked me to come back.”

“Was lonely,” I said, playing with the hem of the towel so short that if I lifted it only an inch, I would be baring myself to him. “You might not have been in the wrong tonight. It might have been me.”

He nodded gravely. “I meant everything I said.”

I was starting to believe him. He’d never been cruel as a teenager, I’d never thought him capable of truly hurting me. He wasn’t a liar.

“What were you doing in there?” he asked, hazel eyes twinkling as he jerked his head to the bathroom door. “Sounds like you were frustrated.”

“Nothing my own fingers can’t fix,” I said, letting them drag up my thigh under the towel. I need you.

He licked his lips. “Thought we established that I can please you better than you can.”

“Mm,” I moaned as I ran a finger through my folds. “But not when you cause me so much displeasure at the same time.”

“Displeasure?” he asked. He was on the edge of the sofa now, the book beside him. He squeezed his dick through his shorts. “Tell me how to fix this.”

I dropped the towel.

At the same time, I closed my eyes, throwing my head back into the wall. It wasn’t hard to get going, not when imagining those beautiful spectacled eyes watching me.

He always wanted what he couldn’t have.

His presence was a shadow over my body. He breathed in the scent of my shampoo, his touch scaling my jawline. “Tell me, Leonie.”

“Beg for it,” I demanded. “Beg me like you said you would.”

“I’ll beg you every day if that’s what you want,” he said, his hold slipping from my arm down to my moving hand. “I will plead for you. Leonie, please. I need you. I’ve had a taste and I—I can’t go without anymore.”

“How cute,” I said, dipping my fingers inside myself. “Get on your knees.”

He went down without question, his knees hitting the wood floor. The second he was down, he was kissing, biting, sucking on my thighs.

Something about his touch made my fingers work harder, faster.

“Let me taste you,” he murmured into my skin, so close to my pussy it caused tremors to my pulsing clit.

But he wouldn’t be getting a direct taste. He hadn’t earned it yet.

He was marking me along my inner thighs, adding to the collection of bruises he gifted me; the one on my neck, the few on my breasts.

When I opened my eyes, panting and looking down at him, his gaze made me come with a whimper. It was warm, heated, hot. Worshipping.

I placed my two fingers to his mouth and he opened up and sucked off my residue with a mischievous grin. “Will it ever stop?” he asked from the floor, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself. “Will I ever stop wanting you?”

There was my drama queen.

“It’s been a week,” I reminded him.

“It’s been years,” he corrected, almost offended. His eyes pleaded with me. “Years of wanting you, Leonie.”

But that was a lie. If he’d wanted me all those years ago, he could have had me. He didn’t. But he also didn’t want anyone else to have me.

If he was telling the truth… he’d, what, wanted me for ten years? He’d pretended to hate me all that time?

“Did you mean it? What you said?”

“Every word,” he promised.

I picked up my towel and wrapped it around myself, all while he stayed on his knees. “I need… to think. You can stay and give me a lift just because my car’s oil light is now on.”

“Please let me buy you a new car,” he pleaded. “That thing is a death trap.”

Dominic Belov was on his knees before me, imploring to buy me a car. It was all my teenage fantasies in one.

I reached to help him stand and pressed my palm to his chest. “You can’t buy me.”

“Don’t want to,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to earn you.”

I swallowed, trying to keep myself grounded, stop myself from falling. I was already on the edge.

“Friends?” he asked, taking my hand from his chest to hold in his.

“Friends,” I agreed, not sure how long that would last. “And, as your friend, I have something to tell you.”

He stilled and nodded for me to continue.

“Mia threatened to tell Issy about us if you didn’t give her Ghost,” I admitted.

He nodded. “I’m aware. I’ll handle it.”

“You can’t give him up—”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” he said and cupped my cheek, “we’ll handle it. We’ll think of something.”

But I just rolled my lips between my mouth, procrastinating what I had to tell him.

“Go on,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

“I invited Sam Yun to Issy’s birthday.”