“Dash should stay. You can go, Lance,” I tell him, pressing a firm, flattened palm to his chest. He looks at me with eyes signaling equal parts rage and propriety. “In fact, I don’t want to see you anymore,” I tell him boldly.
I don’t even know where it comes from, but standing next to these two men, it’s clear that I shouldn’t sacrifice my whole life for other people’s feelings. Other people’s dreams and other people’s expectations. I don’t want to die having lived my life for someone else. I can’t stand Lance, and now that I’ve moved out, I don’t have to be around him if I don’t want to.
“What the actual fuck, Taye? Your mother will never allow that. We have plans for our future,” he says.
Dash sets the glass down and offers me his arm. “Shall we, Sam?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Correction. You and Mother have plans for my life. I was never included in them. So now I’ll exclude you from mine.” I take Dashiell’s arm and feel the electricity of his energy strike through my nervous system like a live wire.
“Not so fast, Princess. I’m talking to Katerina about this before you do something you’ll regret,” Lance flails. He gathers himself and brusquely checks Dash in the arm as he storms out of the kitchen to go tell on me.
I flush with embarrassment. I want to apologize to Dash for the pathetic state of my life. He must see me as an amateur, a histrionic drama queen with the fake problems of a rich girl. A drunk, rich girl who’s had more Champagne than she has any business imbibing for her weight and height and the measly contents of her shrunken stomach.
“Sorry. Lance is Mother’s little project. She knows his parents and—”
“Shh.” Dash shushes me and places a commanding finger over my lips. I stumble backward in surprise and he catches me easily. “You need to eat something. You’ve had too much to drink, and though I’d gladly give you a lift home, I don’t have the patience to spend the night in the ER. When’s the last time you ate?” he asks me.
I shake my head.
Dash walks me backward, invading my space. Practically stepping on my feet, he moves me through the swinging door of the pantry where the silver trays lined with canapes in doilies await the servers.
“Can’t have you running back out there without a little nosh first, Princess,” he says, his gruff tone roughing up his voice.
“Don’t call me that, Dash.”
“That’s what Lance calls you. That seems to be what everyone thinks you are.” He lifts me easily onto the countertop laden with delicacies and pushes his sculpted form between my legs. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
His voice bites in my ear, but I do as I’m told, and a wave of arousal dampens my tiny thong from his heated breath on my neck. Dashiell’s fingers clamp down on my jaw as he presses something sweet and soft between my open lips. It’s a tiny fruit tarte with fresh peaches which burst juicily on my tongue. I groan at the pleasure of it and the creamy goodness of the custard as it melts in my mouth. It’s a tiny little tarte, but it feels like a universe on my tongue and makes me question why I’ve deprived myself of all this goodness for so many years.
I barely notice as Dash slips the spaghetti straps of my gown down my shoulders until the chill of the air hits my nipples, and they harden into puckered buds.
He’s soon pressing another desert into my open mouth, this one dark and bittersweet chocolate with cherries and crème fraiche. I can barely contain myself. The flavor is captivating. And then Dash is tugging my erect nipples between his fingers before he pulls them into his mouth. He sucks hard and fast and my head swims, falling back. My center floods with wet heat for him and his seductive tongue. He sucks and sucks while the dark chocolate melts in my mouth, and my sex swells with need until I’m grinding into the counter and feeding my breast to him.
“Fuck, Princess!” he growls before capturing my mouth. His tongue invades my mouth like he owns me, like he never left. When his hardness presses into my need, I whimper with want. “I want to give you something else to eat,” he grits.
I hear him undo his fly. Maybe it’s crass and uncouth, but I want him in my mouth, exploding on my tongue. I fold my legs underneath me and lean forward, my eyes still closed, my heartbeat throbbing in my throat.
He slaps my face with his hard cock. My cheeks flush and my mouth falls open in response. Then Dash pinches my nipples so hard that I cry out in pain. He shoves his fat dick into my mouth and grabs the back of my head.