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Dominic kisses with everything he has to give. Like there isn’t another breath to take after this.
I allow myself a similar reckless abandon every time I travel. Just diving into any activity like it’s the last thing I’ll get to do.
I moan against his lips, gripping his shoulders and enjoying every second of his possessiveness.
“You’re going to pay for this.” His voice sends delicious shivers down my spine, and he knows it.
My body responds immediately—goosebumps, trembling, fluttering stomach, hammering heart and soaked underwear. The man winds me up with a few words.
I yelp as he hauls me over his shoulder and marches to his bedroom. He tears my clothes off, and somehow his as well at the same time.
“Hands on the bed and bend over.” The rumble of his voice alone can push me to the edge.
I don’t comply immediately. I stare at him, trying to look defiant, but I’m probably failing miserably because I’m so aroused.
Dominic clenches his jaw, his features darkening as he steps closer. We’re both naked, squaring off like fighters in a ring. I step back without even making the conscious decision to do so.
“Chils,” he growls, and I lift my chin.
I don’t know why I’m pushing back, because I know in the end I’ll gladly submit. In fact, every fiber of my body is already screaming in surrender.
He closes the short distance between us. It’s not even half a step, but the impact is shocking. He towers above me with a savage look in his eyes.
He hasn’t touched me yet, but his scent alone, along with the heat his beautiful body emanates, is enough for me to succumb. Not because he takes power from me, but because I want him so much.
I turn, bend, and my hands don’t even reach the edge of the bed when a vicious smack lights up my ass cheek.
I suck in a breath and lower my forehead, dealing with the burn and the spiked arousal, panting.
“Are you sorry?” He smacks me again. I clench and then relax when Dominic feathers my burning skin with a tender caress. “I loved fisting your hair. Say you’re sorry.”
I have nothing to be sorry about and I want to argue that, but I want him to fuck me more, so I play along. “I’m sorry I cut my hair.”
I get my reward. Three times in a row. And with every orgasm, I’m sinking deeper into the world ruled by this man.
Like those stupid boxes he left in the hallway a few months ago. He may have removed them, but he invaded my life with so much more. I don’t think I can pretend anymore that getting rid of him would be good for me.
We lie spent between crumpled sheets. I think about the danger of letting myself fall while Dominic draws lazy circles on my belly, occasionally taking my nipple in his mouth. I think he’s doing it mindlessly, and still it feels so natural and normal.
“How did my hometown treat you?” He props his chin in his palm, watching me with those observant eyes.
“The entire city is sheathed in black. It’s horrible. Everywhere I went, people were crying, building shrines, mourning the loss of you.” I cover my eyes with the back of my forearm for dramatic effect.
He closes his teeth around my nipple and I yelp. “Don’t make me punish you again. Though I see it’s losing its thrill, now that you’re enjoying it a bit too much. I have to step up my game.” He kisses me with a decadent amount of pressure, suction, tongue and all. It’s annoying how good he is at all of this. “What do you think about the building?”
And here we go. The moment of truth. What is the truth, though, is the question. “I don’t know. It’s not bad, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What do you mean? Why not? I’ll buy the building for you—”
“Aren’t you a romantic?” I try to derail the conversation. I need to refuse this collaboration, but I don’t want to. I wish I was brave enough to take the leap.
Dominic rolls over me, pinning me to the mattress. He brackets my face between his large palms, and I swear his eyes can see deep into my soul. Deeper than I’d peek myself. I’m not happy that he can probably feel my heart pounding against his chest.
“What are you scared of? Talk to me, Chils.”
The simple, honest request forms a lump in my throat.
We stare at each other for a second, or a day, but I can’t find my voice. I don’t have to justify myself to him. The bitter thought sounds childish and petulant even in my mind.
