Mia Fiore has been running from dangerous men for half her life. Now that she's focused on a fashion career and finally reuniting with her brother, is meeting her brother's best friend going to put Mia right back in the hands of yet another dangerou...
How many times can a person have sex before it becomes detrimental to the persons body? With only two days between us, Dom made sure to push that limit well beyond what you'd think you could handle in a 48 hour span of time. He left this morning back to New York, and every part of my body feels empty already. My chest where my heart was deflated from his absence, my mouth from his unforgiving tongue and cock, and my core for all the same reasons. My skin feels colder without his hot flesh pressed against me. My sheets feel abandoned with only my small frame between them. I spent two whole days locked away in a room with Domani De Luca. We shut out the outside world and focused solely on each other, and also each other's bodies.
Every time I close my eyes I see flashes of him. How he stroked his length into me sensually, teasing my every nerve ending with his contradicting stimulations. Pinching my nipples, stroking into my core, and kissing softly over my neck. I close my eyes and I see how his muscles flex when he's pinning me against the mattress, the walls, the shower, and every other surface he managed to have me on.
I love the way it looks when he loses control of himself and fucks me wildly with need. He bites his lip, he shuts his eyes, he throws his head back, and he grunts in the sexiest way. His gruff voice always gets to me. He presses it to my ear and whispers naughty things to me. Sometimes he praises me. Other times he's giving orders. The sounds of my breathy moans, his deep rumbling groans, our skin slapping with fast thrusts and connecting flesh, headboards bumping walls making a thudding sound. I keep picturing all of it.
It's not just that that I like about him though. Between all that sex there was more. His blue gaze catching with my eyes. The pink lips that I'd watch when he spoke. Real conversations. His rough stubble and soft dark hair that hung on his forehead because he hadn't styled it in days. I like his voice and his laugh...because I did hear that a few times while we talked. It's deep and comes from deeper within his chest.
I smell him on my sheets. His smell is intoxicating. His overwhelming presence is addictive. His manly hands, his tattoos, his self assured demeanor and finesse. I miss Domani De Luca already, and he's only been gone for a day. Less than that. The more time I spend with him, or talking to him, the more I'm being sucked into this vortex of confused feelings that run so deep they're actually discombobulating. Knowing his capability for violence only makes me feel special when he protects me. Knowing he's the leader of bad men only makes me feel lucky when I get a more human side of him. Knowing he carries a gun makes me understand that his hands are dangerous hands, and yet they caress me. I'm in trouble. I've fallen too deep.
Even though my break from work is up, and I know I'm about to become extremely busy again, I still know this ache inside me isn't going to go away so easily.
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Because a lot of designers just started coming out with their new fall collection, it means Helen's going to receive a lot of new sample clothes. We keep them in the wardrobe room to pull looks for her clients. That also means I do inventory, where I'm basically drowning in fabric. I steam/ dry clean the garment, hang them, tag them, and separate them accordingly. It's very time consuming, and I'm on day three of it. Standing on my feet all day was killing me. Since I was alone I slipped my heels off, standing barefoot in Helen Barton's wardrobe room. I had a half eaten sandwich discarded behind me on the one and only chair that didn't have something draped over it.
