“Dominic,” I whisper, reaching out for him when my breath settles, but he merely spoons me.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” His erection pulses behind me.
“But—”
“I’m fine. More than fine. I loved it.” He presses a kiss on the base of my neck. “If I could stay between your legs forever, I’d die a happy man. Spiritual, too.”
I snort a laugh. “Happy I understand, but spiritual?”
“Hey, making and watching you come is a highly spiritual experience. Don’t knock it.”
“Mmm… But what about my spiritual life?”
“What about it? The orgasm not quite taking you there?”
I twist and squirm until we’re facing. “I want you to come inside me too. I want to—”
“Soon.” He puts a finger over my lips. “It’ll happen soon.”
He says it with such conviction that I decide that maybe he’s almost there. I’ll definitely suck him off as soon as possible. He’ll love that…
A sound teases at my mind, and I scowl, then slowly open my eyes. It’s still dark, but I can hear something other than the usual waves. I glance around and note Dominic’s side of the bed is cool and empty. The unfamiliar noise is coming from the bathroom…
Not unfamiliar, I tell myself, noticing that the door to the bathroom’s not quite shut all the way. That’s how I can hear the shower spray.
I check the bedside clock. It’s three in the morning. What is Dominic doing, washing this early?
Shrugging into a robe at the foot of the bed, I pad to the bathroom to see if everything’s all right. I hear a small groan, and my heart picks up. Is he in pain?
I hurry, then push at the door. It opens, the well-oiled hinges quiet.
Dominic’s in the glass shower stall. He’s facing the windows, away from me. The lean muscles in his back bunch as the water sluices down his body. His broad shoulders move up and down rapidly, his ribcage expanding and contracting in synch with his shoulders.
I start to take a step toward him, then stop when I spot his cock hard and throbbing between his legs, balls hanging heavy. The cock head almost touches his six-pack, and the veins in the shaft visibly pulse.
He grips his erection in one rough hand, his knuckles whitening as he tightens his hold. His thumb moves over the tip of his head and the small flap of skin where his cock head meets the shaft. He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched hard. Placing a hand on the glass partition, he pumps his cock hard in his fist, ass clenched and forearm flexing.
My mouth dries. I’ve never seen a man masturbate, and it’s an incredible sight—dirty, erotic and primal. But at the same time, I realize there’s nothing wrong with him at all. So why couldn’t he have sex with me all this time?
A low groan tears from his throat. White jets of semen shoot from the tip of his penis. I press a hand over my mouth to muffle a gasp. Dominic doesn’t turn around, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear me over the spray, which washes away his ejaculate.
Quietly I retreat, one clumsy step at a time. Thoughts swirl in my head. Even though I feel like I should say something, I don’t know what.
Hey, I saw you jerk off.
Why are you denying us if there’s nothing wrong with you?
Nothing sounds right.
After tossing the robe back on the foot of the bed, I crawl between the sheets, lie on my side and stare into the darkness. I keep seeing those ropey jets hitting the tile wall…the corded muscles in his neck…the bunched jaw…the flush in his cheeks.
He’d rather have his hand than my body. I feel dirtier and more unwanted than a used sanitary napkin. All the pleasure he’s given me seems so…wrong. And selfish, like maybe I did or said something to force him when he didn’t really want to.
Why didn’t he say something?
I’m not such a nympho that I can’t control my sexual desire. If I had to, I could’ve given myself an orgasm.
Dominic carefully slips under the covers next to me. Should I tell him I’m awake? That I saw everything? And then what? Argue? Fight?