Dirty Dom(18)

“What the fuck?” My eyes reach his as he stands in front of me zipping up his pants and shaking his head. He walks with confidence towards me and I can tell he’s not going to leave.

“My son.” It’s all I say. It’s all I have to say. He stops a foot from me and looks me up and down. I want to ask him his name. I want to do much more than I can. More than I should. I have to take a deep breath and try to calm myself.

“I’ll go, but I want to see you again.” I do too. His words shock me. My lips part and I stand there speechless.

He picks up my phone off the table, “I’m putting my number in here. Dom.” He looks at me with a smirk. I feel my cheeks heat and I cringe. That’s so fucking embarrassing. I don’t even respond.

He puts the phone down, but then laughs and shakes his head. He picks it back up and smiles broadly at me. “Dirty Dom, since that’s the way you like it, doll.” He puts the phone back down and then walks to me. His hand cups my face and tilts it so I have to look at him.

He’s so relaxed, so at ease. I want to melt into him. I bite my lip to keep myself from caving to him.

He turns his cheek towards me and taps it with his finger.

I look at him like he’s fucking crazy. He wants me to kiss his cheek? “You don’t have all day Rebecca; your son will be here soon.” My eyes widen. I don’t want that. I have to stand on my tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, but I do. I love the feel of his rough stubble under my soft lips.

“Good girl.” An asymmetric grin pulls his lips up.

“Becca.” I don’t know why, but I correct him. No one calls me Rebecca. Only my mother, when she was mad at me. When I disappointed her. I don’t want him calling me that. Shit, I’d rather he call me his dirty slut again than Rebecca.

“Becca,” he repeats to me. “I like that even better.” He mutters under his breath and then leaves. I watch as he gets into a silver car, without looking back at me. I quickly close the door and push my back against it. My mind replays everything that happened as my fingertips touch my lips.

What the fuck did I just do?





Dom





What the fuck just happened? I went there to smooth shit over and apologize. I start the ignition and run my hand through my hair. I lean back against the seat and take a look back at her house.

A two story single family home. Where the fuck is her picket fence?

Her door’s closed. She didn’t even wait to watch me leave. Probably has to clean up all the evidence that she was with me. For some reason that really fucking hurts. But then I remember that she’s got a little boy. And fuck that, I don’t want to be here and have to do all that shit. I just wanted to get laid. And I did. I pull out and snort at few of the houses that actually do have white picket fences.

But why does it feel so … wrong? It was hot as fuck. I’ve never had a woman who wanted to do that. To fight me like that. I groan, leaning my head back against the seat as I pull up to a red light. That was fucking hot. My fingers grace the skin of my neck. She fucking bit me. My Becca is one kinky bitch.

The cocky grin on my lips slips as I remember how she looked after. Not after I got done fucking her. She was gorgeous when she came on my dick. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she tried to fight her need to scream in pleasure. The memory makes me want to fuck her again. Right now. This broad keeps me wanting to go back for more. I shake my head not knowing quite how I feel about it all.



I feel a little used to be honest. I fucking enjoyed it, but damn, did she have to kick me out right fucking then. The after shocks were probably still racing through her body when she shut the damn door.

She should’ve at least taken me to dinner if she was gonna fuck me like that. I bark a laugh at my little joke.

Okay, okay. Now I know what I’m working with. If we’re gonna keep fucking I know exactly where I stand with her. I’d be her dirty, little secret. Usually women brag about fucking me. There’s no way Becca will.

As I pull up to the house, my phone goes off. I look at the monitor on the dashboard and see it’s Vince. I park the car in the driveway, but leave it running.

“Yeah?” I ask him. I don’t really feel like fucking around. I want to get inside and look at my schedule. I gotta figure out when I’m hooking up with my doll again.

“We got a problem.” I don’t like his tone. My blood runs ice cold.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Detective Marshall took Jack in.” Hearing that name pisses me off. Jack’s ex threatened to go to him. You don’t threaten a mobster, even if he’s your husband. You sure as fuck don’t use names either. Cause that means you’ve already talked to him.