Chapter 4: The Panty Drawer Discovery
The drawer slid open on a whisper of well-oiled wood. Izzy stood before it, her back to Dom, who watched from the edge of the rumpled bed. The morning light cut across the room, illuminating the dust motes and the tension hanging between them.
It wasn’t a surprise, not really, after his confession in the garage. But seeing it was different. The bottom drawer was a chaos of lace, cotton, and silk, a riot of colors shoved into a dark space. Dozens of pairs. Some were balled up, stained dark and stiff. Others were folded with a disturbing neatness, like sacred relics. Her entire history of missing underwear, a physical archive of his hunger.
She didn’t speak. She reached in, her fingers bypassing the neat stacks, and dug out a pair of black lace thongs from the very back. They were old. The elastic was slightly frayed. She brought them to her face, inhaling deeply. The scent was complex: his musk, a faint tang of dried salt, and underneath it all, the ghost of her own arousal from a year ago.
“Smells like you, Daddy,” she said, her voice unnervingly calm. She turned and tossed them at him. They landed on his bare chest. “Now I know where the hell all my panties went. You’re the reason I had to buy three new packs last summer. And I started going commando half the time because I just… didn’t have enough.”
She held his gaze, a challenge sparking in her dark eyes. Then, slowly, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sleep shorts—his old shirt, really—and pushed them down her thighs. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“So you owe me,” she stated, planting her feet firmly on the worn rug. She was already wet, her folds glistening in the low light. “Get on your fucking knees and eat me out. Until I come on your face. Consider it a repayment plan with interest.”
For a heartbeat, he just stared, the stolen lace on his skin. Then a grim, acquiescent smile touched his lips. This was her territory now. He slid off the bed, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and knelt before her without a word of protest.
His large hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer. The first touch of his tongue was a broad, flat stroke from her entrance to her clit. Izzy gasped, her fingers immediately tangling in his short hair. He didn’t tease. This wasn’t foreplay; it was penance, and he was a devout man.
He ate her with a single-minded intensity, his tongue driving into her cunt, lapping up her wetness, then circling her swollen clit with rough, perfect pressure. His stubble scratched the tender skin of her inner thighs, a delicious burn. She could feel the rumble of a groan in his throat against her.
“That’s it,” she panted, her head falling back. She rolled her hips, fucking his face. “Use that fucking tongue. Make it up to me.”
He grunted, one hand sliding around to grip her ass, holding her open for him. His other hand came up, his thumb finding her asshole, pressing against the tight ring without entering, just applying that shocking, grounding pressure. The dual sensation made her cry out. His mouth was hot, wet, relentless. He sucked her clit between his lips, his tongue flicking it rapidly.
“Dom… fuck, right there…”
Her legs began to tremble. The orgasm built not as a wave but as a sudden, violent crack of lightning. It ripped through her, blinding and electric. She ground down against his mouth as she came, a raw, guttural sound tearing from her throat. Her release flooded over his tongue, and he drank it down, his throat working as he swallowed every drop.
But she wasn’t done. As the last shudders were still wracking her, she pushed him. He fell back onto the rug, looking up at her, his chin and mouth glistening with her. She followed him down, straddling his face, her knees framing his head.
“Don’t stop,” she commanded, lowering herself onto his mouth again. He was trapped, and his obedience was absolute. His tongue pushed back inside her, licking through her sensitive, shuddering flesh as she rode his face. She set a brutal pace, using him, chasing a second, sharper peak. His hands gripped her thighs, holding on as she moved. The room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue on her cunt and her own ragged breaths.
She came again, a shorter, tighter clenching, whimpering as she pressed herself hard against him, smearing her juices across his skin. Only then did she still, collapsing forward to brace her hands on the floor beside his shoulders. She was dripping onto his neck, his chest.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sound their mingled, labored breathing. Slowly, she pushed herself up and off him, sitting back on her heels beside his prone body. He looked wrecked, thoroughly used, and utterly at peace.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at it. “Even now?” he asked, his voice gravel.
“Even now,” she confirmed, a slow smile spreading. She leaned down and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, a closed loop of desire.
From the nightstand, Dom’s phone began to vibrate, buzzing against the wood like an angry insect. They both ignored it. It stopped. Then, a second later, it started again, insistent.
Dom sighed, the real world pressing in. He sat up, reaching for it. The screen showed a name that made his expression shutter: VINCE.
He answered. “Talk to me.”
Izzy watched his face. She saw the protective walls slam back up, his eyes going hard and distant. He listened, grunting short acknowledgments.
“When?” he asked. A pause. His gaze flicked to Izzy, then away. “Tonight. I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. The intimate space they’d carved out was gone, replaced by the chilly air of obligations outside these four walls.
“What is it?” Izzy asked, pulling her knees to her chest.
“Business,” he said, standing up. He walked to the bathroom, his stride all purpose again. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
But the way he’d looked at her—like he needed to lock her away somewhere safe—told her it was everything to worry about. The outside world was knocking. And it wouldn’t be kept out by a drawer full of secrets or the taste of each other on their skin.