He grinned. “It’s okay, though.”
He leaned his face toward mine, licking away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.
“I want you too. I want you to fight me. I want to make you. I want to hold you down and fuck you until you scream my name. I want to come all over you, so you know who you belong to. So you know who owns you.”
He released me to tear his shirt over his head, baring his chest. He stood with his arms on either side of me, caging me in but not touching me.
“Touch me, Gia.”
His low, deep whisper made me shudder.
I stared up at him. His pupils had dilated so that thin rings of blue-gray circled black. My breathing grew shallow, every hair on my body standing on end.
I moved slowly, tentatively, dropping my gaze to his muscled chest, the tattoo there, and down to his belly, to the trail of hair disappearing into his jeans. Hands shaking and with the lightest touch of my fingertips, I did as he said. I touched him, the tops of our heads coming together as we both watched my fingers move over hard muscle wrapped in soft flesh.
“You make me fucking crazy.”
His chest rumbled with the rawness of his words. He gripped my wrist hard and laid my hand flat against his chest, over his heart. His other hand circled my hip.
“Feel this.”
His heart beat a frantic staccato beneath my hand, and I found myself biting my lip when I turned my gaze to his, both our heads still bowed. He slid his hand over my belly and brought it to rest at my heart. He didn’t speak the obvious, that my heart beat as loudly and as frantically as his. I didn’t know what this meant. What he wanted. All I knew was that I wanted him. I wanted all of him.
“Take my cock out,” he ordered.
I let my fingertips slide down over his belly, obeying, both hands working clumsily to undo his jeans and push them and his briefs down far enough to grip his cock in both hands. I held the hardness, wrapped my hands around it, and smeared the wetness at the tip.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded.
I wouldn’t do that. Didn’t I say I wouldn’t kneel for him? For any man?
Dominic’s hand nudged my shoulder, and, weak willed, I slid down, the floor cold and hard against my bare knees.
He waited until I looked up at him.
“Suck my cock, Gia. Keep your eyes on me, so I can watch you take me. So I can watch you choke and cry when I fuck your mouth.”
He gripped my hair, and I felt a drop of my own arousal slide down one thigh as I opened my mouth to take him, liking the salty taste of him, wanting him to make me, to do it hard, to hurt me a little maybe. He was right. I was fucked up. And as I took him deeper and watched his eyes, I knew he was too. We were both fucked up, and somehow, we’d found each other, and together, we became something else, something twisted but not ugly. Dark but deep and full, and I knew without a single doubt that when the time came to walk away, I would be leaving a piece of myself behind. A piece that no longer belonged to me.
I choked, and he thrust. He did this three times, until tears blurred my vision before he drew me to stand and kissed me, his mouth devouring mine as he lifted me only to impale me on himself, his thick cock calling a cry from me as I slid down over it, every inch stretching me wide, the touch of my clit against him making me cling tighter, wanting to be closer, to feel him, to feel.
“Fuck, Gia.”
He kissed me, trapping me between him and the counter, fucking me. When he dropped to the floor, I wondered if his knees hurt with the impact of both our bodies, but he only pulled back to look at me, to untangle my limbs and turn me and push me down on all fours. He shoved my legs apart, and I arched my back. When he drew me apart and thrust into me again, I cried out. He thrust harder, his breath coming in short gasps and grunts. When he stilled inside me, his cock throbbing, releasing the first rush of semen, I came. I came hard, my pussy squeezing him as if it too needed to cling to him, needed to be possessed by him, needed to be close to him.
I would have collapsed, but he slid out of me and drew me backward to sit between his legs, my back to his chest, his back to the wall. The cold tiles felt good against my sweaty, hot skin. Dominic held me to him. His breath warmed my ear. Neither of us spoke for a long time. I wondered what he was thinking. If he was trying to figure out a way to keep me from going. He could leave me behind and go himself. He could make me do anything he wanted me to do. For all my talk, I knew he would decide. It came down to basics. He was bigger than me. He was stronger than me. He could make me do whatever he wanted.
“I want to go with you. Please, Dominic,” I said.
“It’s not safe.”
“You’ll keep me safe,” I said, wondering who was more surprised by the words, Dominic or myself.
19
DOMINIC
I’d lost my mind, surely.
