The first press of him draws a sharp gasp from me. He is too big. The broad head parts my pussy lips, pressing against the tight ring of my opening. Even slicked with my own arousal, the friction is profound.
Dominic clenches his jaw. He rests his forehead against mine, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Look at me, Sienna."
I force my eyes open, meeting his burning gaze.
"You don't run from me," he says, his voice a lethal, intimate vow. "You don't hide. From this night forward, you are mine. No one else touches you. No one else looks at you. I will burn this city to ash before I let anything take you from me." He holds my gaze, the words dropping like iron into still water. "You are a Costa now, Sienna. You are the territory I will die defending. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whisper, the truth of it sinking into my marrow. I am entirely his.
Dominic grips my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, and thrusts forward.
He buries himself inside me in one long, unbroken, brutal glide. The stretch is agonizingly perfect, filling every hollow, unused ache inside my body. My inner walls stretch tight to accommodate his immense girth, sliding over the heavy ridge of his cock. He seats himself to the hilt, his pubic bone grazing my clit with the force of it. He doesn't just enter me; he anchors himself. He is marking his territory from the inside out.
A guttural, tearing sound rips from his chest. He throws his head back, his eyes squeezing shut as he absorbs the tight, wet heat of my body gripping him.
"Fuck," he grates out, the word torn from the very bottom of his lungs. "You're so tight. So fucking tight, sweetheart."
I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, my fingernails pressing into the heavy muscle of his back. "Move," I beg, my hips tilting upward, seeking friction. "Dominic, please."
He doesn't need to be told twice. He begins to pump into me, drawing almost completely out before slamming back in, driving the thick head of his cock deep. The angle is devastating. Because I am at the edge of the bed and he is standing, every thrust hits the deepest, most sensitive part of me.
The rhythm is punishing, feral. He isn't making love to me; he is claiming me. He is driving his ownership into my body, erasing every memory of a life before him. The obscene sound of his body driving into mine drowns out everything else—the traffic below, the hum of the air filtration, the whole insulated world of the cage. He isn't just moving inside me; he is occupying me, his cock thick and unrelenting as it stretches my walls to their absolute limit.
"Mine," he snarls with every thrust, his voice a rhythmic mantra. "Only mine. Always mine. I'm going to fill you with my cum until you can't remember anyone else's name."
My hands map the heavy expanse of his back, tracing the scars, feeling the bunched, powerful muscles shifting beneath his hot skin. I am entirely overwhelmed. The friction of his thick shaft stretching my pussy, the heavy weight of him pinning me down,the raw, obsessive possessiveness radiating from him—it is a sensory overload that drags me right back to the edge.
"Dominic," I cry out, my head thrashing on the pillows. "I'm close. I'm going to?—"
"Come for me," he orders, shifting his grip. He slides one hand around to the front, finding my swollen, oversensitive clit. He presses down hard with his thumb, pinning it against his thick shaft right as he buries himself to the hilt.
The combination of the deep, stretching penetration and the hard pressure on my clit fractures my reality. The climax tears through me with a violence that steals my vision. I scream, my back arching off the bed, my internal walls clamping down around him like a vise. I sob his name, entirely lost in the blinding white heat of the orgasm.
My contraction triggers his own break. Dominic goes rigidly stiff. He grips my hips with bone-crushing force, his jaw locking tight as he drives himself as deep inside me as physically possible. A deep, roaring groan tears from his throat. Hot, thick pulses of his cum flood my pussy, a primal, deeply intimate claiming that seals the terrifying reality of my new life.
He stays buried inside me for a long time. The only sounds in the room are the ragged, desperate pulls of our breathing and the distant, muffled hum of Chicago traffic far below the fortified windows.
Slowly, the tension drains from his massive frame. Dominic lowers himself carefully onto the mattress without withdrawing, hauling himself fully onto the bed and pulling me with him, keeping our bodies locked together. His heavy chest presses against mine, crushing my breasts beneath his weight. He burieshis face in the crook of my neck, his hot, damp forehead resting against my collarbone. I wrap my arms around his waist, holding the lethal, violent man who has just systematically dismantled my entire world.
He eventually pulls back, his dark eyes slightly softer, though the heavy possessiveness remains. He withdraws from my body—a slow, wet slide that leaves me achingly empty, the loss of his thick presence immediate and profound. He doesn't move away. Instead, he reaches down, hooks his hands under my back and the backs of my thighs, and drags me with him to the center of the mattress, keeping his body pressed to mine the entire way. He pulls the thick, weighted duvet over us both, tucking it around my bare, trembling skin.
He arranges my body so my back is flush against his front, his arm heavy and immovable across my waist. His hand rests flat against my bare stomach, his fingers splayed wide, anchoring me to him. His palm is warm and enormous, but I am acutely aware of the marks blooming on my inner thighs—the physical proof of his grip, tender and indelible in equal measure.
"Sleep, Sienna," he murmurs, his lips pressing a firm, lingering kiss against my copper curls. "You're safe now. No one will ever touch you again."
I close my eyes, the heavy scent of his cologne and the fresh peonies wrapping around me like a shroud. I am trapped in the fortress of the man who plans to burn this city to the ground. But as the warmth of his large, scarred body seeps into my bones, lulling me into the dark, I realize the most terrifying truth of all.
I don't want to leave.
6
Dominic
The darknessof the bedroom is absolute, broken only by the faint, amber glow of the city filtering through the reinforced ballistic glass of my windows. I am awake. I have been awake for two hours, entirely still, barely breathing.
I can't breathe. Not properly. Not unless my hand is physically anchored to the swell of her hip, feeling the steady, rhythmic expansion of her ribs beneath my palm.
Sienna lies tangled in my dark charcoal sheets, her copper curls spilling across the pillows like spilled fire against wet slate. Her chest rises and falls in the deep, heavy cadence of exhausted sleep. I watch the delicate flutter of her eyelashes, the slight parting of her lips, swollen and pink from my mouth, from my teeth. The scent of her—crushed peonies and sweat—fills the massive space of my suite, thick and intoxicating. It overrides the metallic phantom smell of blood that has lived in my sinuses for twenty years.
