“Come on, Dominic,” she challenges, holding out her hand. “Or are you afraid of a little water?”
I’ve faced down rival clubs, cops, prison, and death itself without blinking. But this woman — this fierce, stubborn woman — terrifies me in ways I can’t explain.
She wears her heart in her eyes, brave even when she's afraid. She's chaos brought to life, complicated and beautiful.
And I’m a monster caught in her hurricane, loving every second of it.
Epilogue 1
Ghost
Iwatch Adora from the foot of the bed, my eyes dragging over her naked body, cataloguing every inch of her soft skin. Long live the no clothes in bed rule.
“You woke up early,” she whispers, sleep still heavy in her eyes, a honey-soaked smile on her lips.
“Not that early,” I murmur, licking my lower lip when I see her nipples pebbling. “Just half an hour ago.”
Her smile stretches as her gaze drifts to my hair, still damp from the shower, like she’s only just noticing it. Then her eyes drop lower, setting fire in their wake — over my chest, my happy trail. My cock twitches under her gaze, already hard as steel.
Her brows lift when she notices the marker in my hand.
“What are you planning, Dominic?” Her breath catches, her smile curving into a smirk.
I run my tongue over my teeth before answering. She watches like she’s caught in a spell.
“You drew a star on my cheek two weeks ago.” I lift the marker to my mouth, pull the cap off with my teeth, then spit it to the floor without breaking eye contact. “Time I return the favor.”
She chuckles, her tits bouncing in rhythm with the sound. “Are you going to draw a star on my cheek too?”
“That’s not my style,” I say, already crawling over her.
I straddle her waist, boxing her in, pinning her beneath me. Her hands come to my thighs, fingers tracing slow circles, her gaze sharp with curiosity.
I squeeze her tits, just enough to feel their weight in my palms, and roll her nipples between my fingers. She lets out a soft gasp, the sound trembling with anticipation. Her scent, vanilla and sin, wraps around us like silk.
No more waiting, or I’ll fucking explode.
I lean down, the marker still in my hand, and start at the swell of her left tit, just above the nipple. I drag each letter slowly, with purpose.
D O M I N I C.
She sucks in a breath, watching through her lashes, shifting slightly to see better.
“Quit squirming,” I murmur, and pinch her nipple. “I’m not done yet.”
I switch sides and repeat the process on her right, tracing the curve of her tit.
When I’m done, I toss the marker aside and brush my thumbs over the letters. They smudge a little, the ink not completely dry yet. Fuck, I’m ready to come right now, just from seeing her like this.
“Are you proud of yourself?” she whispers, trying to tease, but the breathless need in her voice gives her away.
“So fucking proud,” I say, and bury my face between her tits, licking and sucking.
I kiss my name into her skin until she’s panting, until she can’t keep still anymore. My cock is so hard it hurts, leaking onto her.
I move forward, grabbing the base of my cock, lining it between her tits. I squeeze them together, and I swear it lookslike fucking art — her tits, my cock and the marker lines painting her skin.
She looks at the head of my cock, her nails biting into my thighs now, and she opens her mouth, tongue rolling out. She knows exactly what I need.
