There is no hesitation, no gentle preamble. It is an invasion. His mouth forces mine open, his tongue sweeping inside to claim the space, tasting of dark espresso and raw, unchecked desire. I grip his broad shoulders, my fingernails biting into the expensivefabric of his shirt as he carries me across the room. He doesn't break the kiss. The world spins, a blur of shadow and amber light, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress.
He follows me down, his heavy, muscular frame pressing me into the mattress. The weight of him is intoxicating. It grounds me, pinning me to the reality of the moment. He breaks the kiss to drag his mouth along my jaw, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just below my ear.
"Mine," he breathes against my neck, his hot breath making my stomach tighten. "Say it, Sienna. Say you're mine."
"Dominic—"
"Say it." His hand slides up my thigh, pushing the heavy black silk out of the way. His rough, calloused palm trails over my bare skin, the contrast of his hardened hands against the soft lotion he rubbed into my skin earlier sending a violent jolt straight to my pussy.
"I'm yours," I gasp, my head falling back against the pillows.
He growls in approval, shifting his weight. He rises up, straddling my thighs, and reaches for the belt at my waist. With a swift, fluid motion, he unties the sash and pulls the robe wide open. The cool air of the bedroom hits my flushed skin. I am entirely exposed to him, bare beneath the silk.
Dominic goes completely still. His dark eyes devour me, sweeping over the swell of my breasts, the curve of my waist, the damp curls between my thighs. The look in his eyes isn't just lust; it is a profound, terrifying reverence. He looks at me like I am the only clean thing he has seen in twenty years.
"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick. "You are completely perfect."
He strips out of his clothes with violent efficiency. He rips the shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons, tossing it to the floor. The belt and trousers follow. When he turns back to me, the breath punches out of my lungs.
His body is a map of survival. Broad, deeply muscled, and scarred. A jagged white line cuts across the hard slab of his abdomen—an old scar that speaks to years of survival—and a puckered bullet scar marks his left shoulder. He is a map of every war he has survived, and now, he is using that scarred, powerful body to crowd over me. And nestled in the dark hair at the base of his stomach, his cock is jutting forward, thick and heavily veined, a bead of precum gleaming at the blunt head. The sheer size of him makes my throat go dry.
Before I can process it, Dominic reaches down and grips my ankles. He drags me toward him, pulling my hips entirely to the edge of the mattress. He drops to his knees on the rug between my legs.
"Dominic?" I question, my hands grasping the silk sheets as panic and anticipation war in my chest.
He doesn't answer. He grips my thighs, his large hands easily wrapping around the backs of my legs, and presses his face directly against my pussy.
The sharp, musky scent of my arousal cuts through the room as he breathes it in—a long, deliberate inhale—his nostrils flaring like a man memorizing a landscape he intends to occupy permanently.
A choked scream tears from my throat. His mouth is entirely unhesitating, a predatory claim on the most private part of me. He parts my pussy lips with his thumbs and the first stroke of his tongue is long, broad, and excruciatingly slow. He captures my clit between his lips, sucking with a rhythmic, bruising force that makes my vision go dark. He laps at me, drinking the slickness that pours from me, his tongue a blunt instrument of pleasure and possession.
"God," I sob, my hips bucking upward off the mattress.
Dominic's hands tighten on my thighs, anchoring me down. He doesn't let me retreat. He holds me exactly where he wants me, his mouth doing devastating work. He is methodical, ruthless. He uses the flat of his tongue to open me wider, lapping at my slick, oversensitive flesh, drinking the wetness that pours from me. When I thrash, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my inner thighs, leaving bruises I will wear for days.
"Hold still, sweetheart," he rumbles against my wetness, the vibration of his voice buzzing directly against my clit. "Let me take care of you."
He slips two thick, calloused fingers inside my tight pussy. The stretch is sudden and intense, filling me completely. He curls his fingers upward, striking a sensitive knot of nerves deep inside me, while simultaneously sucking hard on my clit.
The dual sensation obliterates my mind. I can't think. I can't breathe. There is only the dark bedroom, the scent of his cologne, and the wet, slick sounds of his mouth consuming me. My fingers tangle in his thick, dark hair, pulling at the silver strands at his temples, holding his head firmly against me. I am no longer fighting him. I am begging him.
"Please," I cry out, my voice shattering in the quiet room. "Dominic, please, I can't?—"
"Give it to me," he demands, his fingers pumping in and out of me with a relentless, driving rhythm. His thumb replaces his mouth on my clit, pressing down hard, rubbing in tight, friction-heavy circles. "Give me everything, Sienna."
The climax hits me with the force of a freight train. My body bows off the bed, my muscles locking tight as intense, violently pleasurable contractions ripple through my pussy. I scream his name, my inner walls clamping down hard around his fingers, milking them as I completely surrender to the high.
Dominic stays down, his mouth catching the last of my slickness, his fingers gently stretching me through the aftershocks. He doesn't stop touching me until my breathing regulates, until I fall back limply against the mattress, completely undone.
He pulls his fingers free with a wet, sliding sound that is obscenely loud in the silence.
Dominic stands. He steps between my bare legs, his large frame blocking out the ambient light from the window. The heat coming off him is blistering. He grips my hips, his fingers fitting perfectly over the bruised indentations he just left, and pulls me flush against the hard ridge of his stomach.
I look up into his face. His jaw is locked, his eyes completely dilated, leaving only a thin rim of dark brown around his pupils. He is pushed to the absolute brink.
"Wrap your legs around me," he orders, his voice entirely devoid of patience.
I obey instantly. I lift my legs, hooking my calves around the corded muscles of his waist. He slides his hands under my back, supporting my weight, and aligns the thick, blunt head of his cock against my dripping pussy.
