"I didn't know."
"I'm going to make all your dreams come true, sweet girl."
"Okay," she agrees, smiling so big her cheeks probably hurt. That dimple pops out, ratcheting up my body temperature another ten degrees.
I pull my shirt off, popping buttons left and right. She watches me with hungry eyes, her gaze roving all over my chest and stomach, pausing on each tattoo. I'm not vain. I've never cared what anyone thinks of me, my body, or my ink. I run every morning and lift weights to counteract the effects of sitting at a desk for ten hours a day. But I feel like a god when her eyes darken and she makes a little mewling sound in the back of her throat. She makes it again when I yank my pants off, leaving me in nothing but my boxers. Her eyes widen when she sees my dick tenting the fabric. There's no hiding him. He's a monster.
She'll be able to take me though. I already know she will.
Before she can think about it too much, I crawl back onto the bed with her, prowling up her body. Trepidation drains from her expression when I press my lips to hers, flicking my tongue against her mouth.
I place kisses all over her face—her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and lips. I take my time with her, not willing to rush this now that I finally have her spread out beneath me. She looks so innocent in her little white dress with her red locks spread across her pillows. So pure. My hands run all over her curvy body, learning her curves…learning her. She gasps and arches toward me when I play with her nipples, moans when I rake my teeth across the tendon in her neck. She melts when I press my lips over her heart…giggles when I dance my fingertips down her side.
Touching her like this is new to me. Yet, somehow, it's familiar too. Like I'm not learning her for the first time, but remembering little places on her that I already knew somewhere in the past. Maybe that's because I've touched her this way a thousand times in my dreams. Heard her cry out my name again and again. Or maybe it's because she's always been mine.
I might have been too blind to realize it, but my subconscious knew. It recognized her, recognized how important she would be to me. I think I've known she belonged to me since she stepped through the doors of my office for the first time, shining bright as the sun.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispers, her voice shaking as I slide her dress up her body and then off over her head. But she isn't asking about the dress. She's talking about the sensations pulsing through her with every touch.
I feel them too. My entire fucking body feels like it's only now coming alive for the first time.
"Claiming you as mine, sweet girl." I sit back on my knees, swallowing hard at the sight of her. She's in a navy-blue bra and matching panties. The darker fabric looks like sin against her ivory skin. I squeeze my dick through my boxers, trying to get him under control. "There's no way I'm ever letting you put clothes on again. Jesus Christ."
Fuck me. Had I known she looked like this under those dresses, I would have locked her up in my house a long time again and never let anyone else near her. She's too goddamn beautiful to be around other men. I'm a man. I know what we think about. What we imagine when we see her brand of innocence and seduction all bundled up together. And no one but me is allowed to think about touching her like this.
I crawl over her, tonguing one hard little nipple through her bra while I try to undo the front clasp. It doesn't want to cooperate. I run out of patience, too eager to get my hands on her luscious tits. The delicate fabric tears easily in my hands.
"Dominic," she gasps.
"I'll buy you a new one," I mumble, though the little tremor in her voice tells me she isn't mad. I think she likes knowing I'm too impatient to have anything between me and her lush body.
She helps me get the silky material off her. I toss it over the side of the bed…and damn near lose my mind at the sight of her tits. They're round, full. Her nipples are rock hard and so fucking pink. Jesus, I'm not going to survive this.
I kiss my way down her chest, lavishing attention on her breasts. She writhes beneath me, undulating like she can't stay still. Little breathy moans fall from her lips. Her hands clench and then unclenched on the sheets.
"Dominic," she whimpers, her back bowing off the bed as I touch my tongue to her nipple. She says it again when I wrap my lips around it. And again when I bite down just hard enough to send a little jolt through her.
Her legs shift back and forth on the bed, restless, seeking. As much as I want to dive right in and give her the orgasm I know she's grasping for with eager hands, I don't. I don't want to rush this. By the time I'm inside her for the first time, I want her addicted, desperate.
I play with her nipples until she's drugged with pleasure, trembling on the edge. And then I move on, exploring every dip, curve, and swell of her body. Seeing her like this—watching pleasure overwhelm her senses—is spellbinding to me. Goosebumps pebble her flesh when I kiss down her belly. She whines low in her throat when I replace my lips with my tongue. Gasps my name when I nip at the curve of her waist.
She smells like flowers everywhere. I can't
