Finding Love in Winter Nostalgia

Chapter Sixteen

It seems taking off my tuxedo and unbuttoning my shirt, revealing the embodiment of absolute perfection that is my chest, is an inadequate way of inviting him to come and sweep his tongue down my abs.

He's just holding me—which I would dearly appreciate on any other night but tonight. I'm nervous, desperately in need of the Kairo who left a stinging, full handprint on my ass in a restaurant full of people to take charge.

"You smell good," I say quietly, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I smell like this every day."

"And you smell amazingly intoxicating every day, baby." I smile.

He chuckles, looking down at me on his shoulder. "Well, thank you, sthandwa sami." He kisses my forehead. "You seem troubled. Is everything okay?"

Here's an opportunity.

I stand up straight, taking a breath. My heart is pounding. Here goes nothing. "Make love to me."

"I'd love nothing more right now, babe, but I'm still kinda sore from Wednesday."

Of course, the universe is designed in a way that he wouldn't understand a sentence so easily comprehensible the first time around. Of course, I have to spell it out. Fuck!

"I mean, take me. Make love . . . to me." Please don't make me ask you to fuck me.

"Seriously?" He's gobsmacked. I give a bashful nod. "Draco." His voice is soft. I'm unable to meet his gaze. He cups my face in his hands so I look at him. "Don't feel obligated to bottom for me. I'm colossally satisfied with the sex we're having."

"It isn't because I feel obligated to do it. I want to. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The corners of his mouth tug upward. "One-hundred percent?"

"One-hundred-and-ten percent."

Put me out of my misery already!

He stares at me for a moment, smiling, and finally kisses me—agonisingly slowly. He tightens his grip around my neck, controlling the kiss as his other hand grabs my ass.

He slaps it with vigour, undoubtedly leaving another mark, forcing a moan out of me as the electrifying sensation it causes in my groin weakens my lower body.

He picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Dominant Kairo is, by far, the sexiest Kairo!

He begins walking us to the bedroom, and I pull away from the kiss. "Grab the speaker."

"What for?" he asks, although fulfilling my request.

"I have a short playlist for you."

"Oh, you're dead-set on making this a night I don't forget, aren't ya?" He laughs, connecting our lips in a kiss once again, taking us to the bedroom

I tend to get loud during sex. I'm certain tonight will be no different. I cannot begin to imagine what I'll sound like being dominated to this degree.

He lets me down, and steps out of his shoes. He rips off his bowtie and begins unbuttoning his shirt. I switch on the speaker and connect it to my phone.

"So, this is a little playlist I put together earlier today," I say. "I've titled it Hershey's Kisses—stupid, I know." We both laugh. "So . . . yeah. These are all songs by my someone you know to be my favourite artist, Victoria Monét—whose music I hold most dear to my heart. This first song is called Moment."