Marrying My Best Friend's Sister: A Billionaire Enemies to Lovers MC Romance (Secret Love) Nikki Bloom (read book .TXT) 📖

in my head and I felt like a needy stupid bitch to even be thinking about letting him anywhere near me.

The ring on my finger meant next to nothing against all the myriad of things that told me I was risking getting severely hurt by this guy.

“Nicolette? Hello? Anybody home?”

I jerked in startlement. “Yeah, I mean, of course I want you. To say anything else would be a pathetic little lie.”

His hands disappeared from my skin, leaving me feeling a little cold. “Why does it bother you so much that you want me?”

I sat up, turned around and looked at him. “Who is Lady Sanders?”

Both his eyebrows flew up. “Excuse me, what?”

“Lady Sanders. Who is she?”

Domenic laughed. “As far as I know, she’s a socialite. Why?”

“Have you…been with her?”

Dom threw his head back and howled. “Me…and Lady Sanders? You have got to be kidding me.” He had to pause between words to laugh, clutching his stomach as if I was Chris Rock-level funny. On one hand, I felt kind of stupid, but on the other hand, I was also relieved. Danna Powell was a lying liar who lied and it was good to be reminded of that.

My face still flamed, as I avoided his eyes.

“Okay then, now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about you tell me where you got the idea that there was a me and Lady Sanders.” He chortled again, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Guess.”

Dom frowned. “There are just too many gossips in my circle. I cannot guess which one got to you. But if you’re going to be married to me, you should know that there will always be people whispering in your ear. If you take everything they say to heart, they’ll have you spun out in minutes.”

I nodded my head, still avoiding his eyes with embarrassment as he sat back and considered me. “You know, I always thought of you as ubèr-cynical. But really, you’re just a naïve, clueless ingénue beneath the hard exterior.”

That had me literally covering my heated face.

“No…” He reached for my hand and moved it away. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just…realizing something. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. He reached slowly towards me, his eyes dropping to my mouth and then up again. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” he whispered.

I gave him a look, fluttering my eyelashes at him. “Been waiting…”

He smiled, that cocky smile that usually annoyed me so much, and swooped down to cover my lips with his. He tasted of chocolate and ginger and I wondered what he’d been eating before I came home. Then all thought of food left my head as he overpowered my senses with his presence.

The immediacy of his touch, his talented tongue playing games with mine, his hands finding every sensitive spot on my body – it was all too much to take in while thinking. I surrendered myself to sensation, enjoying how well he played me, like a talented violinist.

He was indeed a maestro.

With every touch, I felt myself moving further and further towards the point of no return. In truth, it was already in the rearview, but as he ran his fingers up my thighs, tracing patterns and whorls, our flesh separated only by the thin lycra of my pants, I huffed, impatient for him to take my clothes off.

He seemed content to explore my body over my clothes, just as if we were some high school teens, just discovering the joys of sex. I wondered if he was taking it so slow because of what he’d said.

He was wrong.

I was not naïve nor clueless. I was exactly as cynical as I looked. That didn’t mean I wasn’t subject to insecurities.

“You’re thinking really loudly. I must be doing something wrong.”

His low baritone startled me and I shuddered a little at the feel of his hot breath ghosting against the sensitive skin behind my ear. “Y-you are, actually. What’s up with the glacial pace?”

“Glacial? If you can use double syllables, I am definitely doing something wrong. Time to up my game.” He murmured even as he bent down in front of me and unbuttoned my shirt with his teeth and tongue. I stopped breathing as his hot mouth closed on my breast, and he began to suck me hard. Somehow it felt as if he was not only sucking at my nipple but also my clit.

Squirming in discomfort and need, I tentatively reached for his hand, pulling it towards me, wanting him to sate the little fires he was lighting everywhere, however he chose to. His hand reached for the waistband of my pants, at last.

Finally!

I did a mental fist bump as he pulled my pants down. He made a slight growling sound as his eyes landed on my apple-dotted, thin cotton panties. Extending his middle finger, he gently rubbed at the junction of my legs, pulling my panties deeper into me with every thrust. I widened my legs, feeling wanton and filled with abandon.

“Augh, harder please, Dom.”

He obeyed my request, his finger pressing hard against my sensitive nub, only a flimsy piece of cotton between us. I began to gyrate my hips, pressing downward on his hand as he thrust it upward.

“You like this?” he murmured before nipping at my neck. I whimpered aloud, arching into him. “Don’t worry, gonna make you come. Gonna be so good.”

“Promises, promises,” I hissed against his neck as I thrust my body forward at him. I did not know how much more explicit I could be. I considered begging, but I still had to look myself in the eye tomorrow, so I desisted. Finally, I remembered that I too had hands and began to fumble at his flies, trying to get him out as fast as possible.

He chuckled, leaning back to give me all the access I could want. His compliance was intoxicating. I wanted more of it.

15

Domenic

Nestling myself between Nico’s legs was the most contentment I remembered having for a long time. There