Page 45 of Dominate

“I’m scared.”

“Okay.” He offers his hand. “What do you need?”

I take it, running my thumb over his knuckles.

“Can you kiss me?”

He comes closer. I’m the one who closes the last inch.

Micah strips me slowly. He doesn’t rush me. He slides the jacket off my shoulders and drops it to the floor. He unbuttons my shirt with deliberate, agonizing care. He presses his lips to every inch of newly exposed skin. He kisses the hollow of my throat. He drags his open mouth across my collarbone. He traces the hard edge of my abdomen with his tongue.

I stand in the center of the hotel room, completely undone. I tremble under his hands. The fear washes away, replaced by a desperate, overwhelming heat that consumes all coherent thought.

I grip his shoulders to keep my knees from buckling.

“Please.” My voice cracks.

Micah looks up. He rests his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing the line of my waistband. “Please what?”

I swallow hard. The words form on my tongue, foreign and terrifying. I’ve never voiced this desire out loud. I’ve never allowed myself to imagine standing on this side of the equation.

“Touch me.” I force the words out into the open air. “Fuck me. Please. I need⁠—”

The rest of the sentence catches in my throat. Fuck me. The reality of the request sends a shockwave of adrenaline straight to my core. I want to surrender. With Micah holding me steady, I want to relinquish the control I fight so hard to maintain everywhere else.

Micah stands up. His expression turns deadly serious. He searches my eyes, ensuring the request comes from desire and not panic.

“You want that?” His voice goes rough and careful. He brushes a stray lock of hair off my forehead. “You want me inside you?”

A shaky laugh escapes my chest. “I don’t know.” I grip his wrists. “I want to try. I want to know what you feel when I⁠—”

Micah leans in and kisses me silent. He swallows the rest of my sentence, swallowing all of my doubts in the same motion.

“We’ll go slow,” he promises against my mouth. “And we stop whenever you say.”

I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my entire life.

Micah guides me to the center of the massive king bed. I lie on my back, my chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow bursts. He kneels between my spread thighs. The air conditioning chills my sweat-dampened skin, but the heat radiating from Micah’s body keeps the cold at bay.

He takes his time. He coats his fingers in slick lubricant and touches me with a reverence that makes my chest ache.

The initial contact brings a strange, stretching discomfort. I tense up instinctively. My hands fist in the hotel sheets.

“Relax your jaw, Zane.” Micah leans forward, kissing my stomach. He murmurs continuous, dark praise against my skin. “You’re doing perfectly. Let me in.”

I force a long exhale through my teeth. I let the tension bleed out of my muscles.

Micah curls a single finger inside me.

“Oh fuck.” My hips jerk upward entirely on their own. A jolt of electricity spears straight through my lower abdomen.

Micah pauses instantly. He pulls back a fraction. “Too much?”

“No.” I grab his forearm. My vision blurs around the edges. “What was—do that again.”

A wicked, beautiful smirk curves his lips. He does it again.

He adds a second finger, then a third, stretching me open with a patient, relentless rhythm. He hits the exact spot inside me over and over again. The pleasure is staggering. I can think of nothing else. I writhe on the sheets, my head tossing side to side, begging him for more.