“You taste so fucking good,” he says against my clit.
I fall over the edge, my climax coursing through me in mind-obliterating waves. Even if I weren’t blindfolded, I think I’d see nothing but stars. I cry out with the undulating swells of pleasure, and Dominic guides me over every crest, shifting his momentum, his motions, until the last vestiges of my orgasm pulse around his fingers.
I’m a limp, spent puddle of satisfaction, mute in the wake of my moans. Now there’s nothing but our panting breaths.
“Fuck,” Dominic says, his body taut with restraint. “Inana, I have to come.”
I’m shocked to hear he was brought so close just by pleasuring me. “Then come,” I say, voice weak. I reach between us, fisting my hand around his length. I’m still quivering from my orgasm, yet hungry for more. I want him to fill me, to thrust inside me. But when I try to angle his cock toward my center, he stalls my hand.
“Not this time, love,” he says. If he’s trying to torment me and leaveme aching for more to ensure thereisa next time, I daresay it’s working. I moan, half in frustration, half in appreciation of his girth. Gods, he’s huge. I pump my hand up and down his shaft and his fingers join mine. He jerks suddenly, then again, and hot liquid spurts over my inner thigh. I gasp in surprise and perhaps a touch of pride at having made him come so fast. His hand guides my pace, emptying him completely until he goes still.
“I’m sorry,” he says, slicking his hand through the mess he just made on me. “I should have asked before I came on you like that.”
“No,” I pant out. “I liked it. Besides, I told you not to be a gentleman.”
I reach for the blindfold and shove it away from my eyes. There’s a bashful grin on his face as he stares down at me. I mirror his expression, then drink in the sight of his sweat-slicked skin, his wet, swollen lips, his empty yet still-imposing cock. He takes my stocking the rest of the way off my head, then runs it over my thigh. A corner of his lips lifts as his gaze meets mine. “I’ll wash this for you.”
“What did I just say about being a gentleman?”
His expression turns serious. “This isn’t being a gentleman,” he says as he finishes cleaning me up. “This is what you deserve.”
I don’t know what to say to that, especially when I see that tender spark in his eyes again. So I say nothing and fall back on the bed, catching my breath. I say nothing as he lies beside me and covers us in my cloak.
“Sleep while you can,” he says, folding his naked body around mine. “I’ll keep watch and keep you warm. Since you begged so fucking nicely.” He brings his lips to my earlobe, nipping it before settling back down.
Still, I say nothing as I let myself melt against him. As I envelop myself in his warmth. Knowing that if I let myself speak, I might accidentally admit that I’m ever so slowly—ever so certainly—falling for a man with a death wish.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dominic
I don’t expect to fall asleep. But I know I’m sleeping because I’m dreaming. And even though the dream is clearly a nightmare, it isn’t mine.
It’s hers.
The woman asleep in my arms.
My heart stutters as I see Inana’s face etched in terror. She’s in a rustic cell. Daylight filters in through the barred windows, while a lantern hung from the rafters illuminates the space around her. Her wrists are bound with rope and tied to iron bars affixed to the wall. Seeing her like that makes me want to scream. To race to her rescue. This time I’m not experiencing this dream through her eyes, but as a helpless spectator instead. I can’t will my body to move.
A man steps into the light, blocking my view of Inana, and understanding dawns. I know what this nightmare represents.
This is the day Inana nearly lost her heart to a Sinless duke.
This man is that asshole, Henry Berkham.
He’s dressed in a fine suit of white and gold, with a red cape affixed to his lapels. I can’t see his face from where I stand in the corner of the cell, but my viewpoint shifts slightly to the side so that Henry is no longer blocking Inana. Her expression warps with a relief so sweet itmakes my heart feel like it will split in two. For I know that relief won’t last long. I know what happens next.
I try to scream, try to shake myself out of this nightmare to spare her from experiencing the terror of this day. But no matter how I try to fight free from my position, no matter how I try to open my mouth and scream, nothing works.
And that’s when I stop fighting.
That’s when I realize…
Maybe I should stay quiet and watch. This is all in the past, and I can’t save Inana from this nightmare anyway. So why don’t I try to glean what I can from this? She may not remember how this interaction ended, but what if her subconscious does? What if the answer to Henry Berkham’s death is here, in this dream?
I’ve never cared about his death, and I still don’t. But the mystery of his demise revolves around Inana. Knowing the truth might not help me protect her any better than I already can, but if she isn’t responsible for killing him, then we’ll have nothing to worry about if any other Shadowbanes seek Inana’s bounty like Henderson did.
And if sheisresponsible for Henry’s death…
