"Good," he growls. He grips the back of my thighs, pulling me flush to the absolute edge of the mattress. He grips his thick cock and aligns the blunt head with my slick, swollen pussy.
He doesn't warn me. He just grabs my hips and drives forward, burying the massive, thick length of his cock deep inside my tight heat in one brutal, relentless thrust. I scream as he seats himself to the hilt, stretching my walls until they feel ready to snap.
I gasp, my fingernails digging viciously into the fabric of his shirt. He stretches me wide, filling the deep, aching hollow inside me so completely that I feel the pressure against my internal walls, deep and absolute. The blunt force of his entry steals the air from my lungs.
He groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he seats himself to the hilt, burying his face in my hair. "Christ, Sienna. You're so fucking tight."
He pulls back, dragging the thick ridge of his cock along my sensitive internal walls, and then slams his hips forward again.Each thrust lands with a heavy impact that fills the room—the sound of bodies colliding with raw, unfiltered desperation.
It is rougher than last night. Last night was a worshipful claiming. This is an anchor. This is a man terrified of the emotional wedge that has just been driven between us, desperately using the only tool he understands—physical domination—to chain me back to him.
He thrusts into me with a hard, punishing rhythm, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I know he will leave bruises in the shape of his fingers. Every time he drives deep, his hips grind against my sensitive clit, sending explosive shocks of pleasure radiating through my pelvis.
"You are mine," he snarls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck as he pounds into me, driving me back against the mattress. "Not your shop. Not your past. Me. I am your life now."
"Dominic—" I cry out, my head thrashing on the pillows. I want to fight the claim, but the physical sensation is too overwhelming. He hits a deep, sensitive spot inside me, and my hips completely betray me, bucking up to take him even deeper.
"Say it," he demands, his thrusts becoming faster, more desperate, the friction generating a frantic, consuming heat that burns away every coherent thought in my brain. He drags his thumb back down, pressing it hard against my clit while he continues to ravage me. "Say you're mine."
The combination of his thick cock stretching me open and the relentless, hard pressure of his thumb on my clit shatters me. My climax rips through me with the force of a hurricane. I scream his name, my inner walls clenching violently, milking the hard, heavy length of him with rhythmic, pulsing spasms.
Dominic roars, his control snapping completely. He thrusts his hips forward one final, brutal time, burying himself as deep as he can possibly go. Hot, thick pulses of his cum flood my pussy, filling me, claiming me, marking me in the most primal, absolute way possible.
He doesn't pull out. He stays buried inside me, his massive chest heaving against my breasts, his face pressed into the crook of my neck. His arms wrap entirely around my torso, crushing me to him as if I might evaporate into thin air.
Finally, he hauls himself fully onto the mattress without withdrawing, pulling me with him into the center of the bed, our bodies still locked together. Only then—slowly, with a wet, suctioning slide that leaves me feeling hollow and marked all at once—does he separate from me. He immediately drags me back against his chest, one heavy arm banding across my waist, his hand splayed warm and possessive against my stomach.
We lie there in the tangled wreckage of the silk robe and the ruined sheets. My body is completely sated, humming with the heavy afterglow of the brutal orgasm he just pulled from me.
But as the adrenaline fades, the cold reality of the room bleeds back in.
Dominic holds me tightly, his breathing slowing, his massive body heavy and relaxed. He thinks he won. He thinks that because my body surrendered, the argument is over. He thinks his physical claiming has erased the betrayal of the ashes on the Riverwalk.
I turn my head, staring blankly at the reinforced window frame across the room. I feel the damp heat of him still on me, hisprotection a crushing cage surrounding me. I am safe. I am protected. And I have never felt more utterly, completely alone.
He didn't fix the cage. He just locked the door tighter.
8
Dominic
The silencein the bedroom is heavier than concrete.
I stand at the foot of the massive four-poster bed, fully dressed in charcoal wool and a black button-down, watching Sienna sleep. Or, rather, watching her pretend to sleep. Her breathing is too shallow, too controlled. She is curled onto her side, facing the reinforced glass of the windows, the heavy midnight silk of the duvet pulled tight over her shoulders.
I can still smell the cum on the sheets. I still feel the violent, desperate friction of her skin against mine from hours ago. I had taken her with a savage kind of terror, driving into her body over and over as if I could physically weld her to my ribcage, as if biology could override the devastation I saw in her eyes. I had pinned her wrists, dominated her mouth, and wrung every frantic gasp of pleasure from her throat, mistaking her physical surrender for emotional submission.
I was a fool.
I am forty-five years old. For two decades, I have built an empire out of blood, ice, and calculated patience. I have dismantledcartels, bankrupted syndicates, and ordered men to their deaths with a flick of my wrist. But standing here, staring at the copper curls spilling over my pillow, I am completely out of my depth.
I saw her grief when Fabio mentioned the flower shop. I saw the absolute devastation of her grandmother's legacy turning to ash. And my instinct—my cold, twenty-year survival mechanism—was to bulldoze the rubble, hand her a blank check, and tell her I had solved it. I tried to buy her existence to keep her safe.
She doesn't want my money. She wants her life. And the Bellantis took it.
A dark, thrumming violence wakes in my blood, a vibration so deep it aches in my teeth. They touched what is mine. They put their filthy hands on the only pure thing in my desolate world, and I had told her to forget it.
I turn on my heel and walk out of the suite, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me.
