21. His Sinner
Chapter twenty-one
His Sinner
It’s the last night of the trip Mason wanted so badly, the vacation he planned for us to “reconnect,” to “unwind” together. We’ve been at this beach house for days, and I should be relaxed, calm, ready to sink into the life Mason wants to build with me.
But instead, I feel like a spring wound too tight and barely holding it together.
It’s not even Mason’s fault. He’s been everything he always is—attentive, considerate, completely oblivious to the fact that every time he touches me, I have to force myself to respond, to smile, to act like I’m here.
Even when we’re fucking, I’m somewhere else, somewhere dark and twisted where Dominic’s hands are the ones I feel, where his voice is the one pulling me under.
It’s like Mason can’t even tell; he doesn’t notice the way I fake it, the way I bite my lip and hide how my mind keeps straying to a shadowed figure with green eyes that burn through every thought I have.
Mason’s in the living room, taking a call he couldn’t avoid, pacing back and forth while I walk to the bathroom, pulling out my hair tie as I go. I close the door, trying to shake the tension, trying to remind myself that Dominic isn’t here, that whatever I think I feel isn’t real. He’s not coming. He doesn’t even know where we are.
I flip on the light, grabbing my toothbrush and trying to ignore the whirlwind in my head. I focus on the repetitive motion of brushing my teeth, the bristles scraping against my teeth filling the small space.
It’s routine, mundane. Safe.
I reach for the glass and fill it up before I glance up at the mirror, expecting my own tired reflection. Instead, my blood runs cold.
Dominic is behind me.
Leaning casually against the shower door, arms crossed over his chest, dressed head-to-toe in black. His eyes gleam with predatory amusement, and that familiar smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth like he’s been standing there the whole time, waiting for me to notice.
My hand slips, and the glass of water tumbles from my fingers, shattering against the marble and sending shards into the sink.
“Shit!” I gasp, whirling around and stumbling back, pressing myself against the cool countertop. “Dominic?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, just tilts his head slightly, his green eyes drinking me in like I’m some prey he’s been stalking for days. Then, he chuckles, the sound rolling through the small space.
I reach for the bathroom door instinctively, slamming it shut and locking it with shaking fingers. My heart hammers in my chest, and I back up against the sink, gripping the counter for balance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong.
“Missed you, Little Sinner,” he says, voice mocking. “Thought I’d drop by.”
I shake my head, the anger bubbling up, mixing with the thrill of seeing him here.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say, my voice rising. “You can’t just show up whenever the hell you feel like it. We—” I pause, shaking my head. “We both need to move on.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing out there with him?” He nods toward the door, his smirk deepening. “Moving on?”
My stomach twists as his words hit their mark, but I force myself to glare at him. “Yes,” I bite out, my voice trembling. “I’m trying to move on, Dominic. You should try it sometime.”
His smirk doesn’t falter; if anything, it grows darker. “Tell me, Aria,” he drawls, his tone almost lazy. “How’s that working out for you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying real fucking hard to convince yourself.”
“I—” I start, but the words stick in my throat. Before I can find my footing, a knock sounds on the bathroom door, sharp and insistent.
“Aria?” Mason’s voice filters through, concerned. “I heard something break. Are you okay?”
My stomach twists, and panic surges as I spin toward the door. “I’m fine!” I call out, forcing my voice to sound calm. “Just dropped a glass.”
Dominic’s laugh sends shivers up my spine, and before I can react, he’s behind me, pressing me into the counter. His chest is solid against my back, as one of his hands slides over my hip, the other trailing up to my throat. His fingers are rough and callused, and I feel trapped—caught between the marble and him.
“Act natural,” he says, his rough stubble against my skin sending shivers up my spine.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mason’s voice comes again, more hesitant this time, like he’s starting to worry.
“Tell him you’re fine, and keep it normal. Wouldn’t want him figuring out you’ve got company,” Dominic whispers.
“I’m fine,” I manage, my voice shaking as Dominic’s hand tightens just slightly around my throat, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me that he’s in control. “I just—just dropped the glass. It’s no big deal.”
“Good girl,” he says and I feel his smirk against my neck as he presses himself against my back—his hard cock digging into me. His hand trails slowly up my thigh, his touch both soft and possessive, like he’s daring me to react.
“I was just thinking—maybe tomorrow we could grab breakfast before the flight? There’s that café you liked last time…” Mason trails off, but I’m barely hearing what he’s saying.
“Answer your fiancé, baby,” Dominic whispers as he grips my thigh.
“Y-yeah,” I stammer, my voice trembling as Dominic’s hand slides under the hem of my dress. “That… sounds good.”
Dominic hums low in his chest, the vibration traveling through me. “Good girl,” he repeats, his tone darker and more possessive. His fingers skim higher, brushing against bare skin, and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to stay composed.
“You sure you’re okay in there?” Mason presses.
“I’m fine,” I choke out, forcing the words even as Dominic kicks my feet apart, his knee nudging between my legs. His hand dips under my panties, and my entire body stiffens when he pushes two fingers inside of my cunt.
“Is this for me, Little Sinner?” he murmurs, his tone smug and laced with mockery. “So wet, and he’s out there waiting like the fool he is.”
“N-no…” I whisper, the denial weak as I turn my head. His grip on my throat tightens, and he angles my face toward the mirror.
“Look at yourself,” he orders as he starts swirling his finger around my clit. “Look at what you’re letting me do to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block him out, but his hand tightens slightly on my throat, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “Open your eyes, Aria,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to see.”
Reluctantly, I open my eyes, my reflection staring back at me is flushed and trembling. And behind me, Dominic looks like the devil himself.
“That’s what you look like when you’re mine,” he whispers, his tone almost tender, but there’s an edge to it. “And we both know you’ll always be mine.”
Tears sting my eyes, and my hands grip the edge of the counter, trembling with the effort of keeping myself upright. I should push him away, scream, do something. But I don’t. I can’t.
The scent of pine needles and motor oil floods my senses, drowning out every rational thought. My body betrays me, heat pooling low in my stomach as my breath comes in shallow gasps, but he doesn’t let up. His fingers move with ruthless precision, coaxing low whimpers out of me.
It’s maddening the way he knows exactly how to break me down, to unravel me piece by piece.
“Tell me something, Aria,” he says, his tone almost conversational, like he isn’t completely destroying me. “Does he touch you like this? Does he even know what you like? Or do you fake it for him the way you fake everything else?”
I try to speak, to tell him he’s wrong, but he doesn’t give me the chance. His fingers move faster, his grip on my throat keeping me steady. A soft moan escapes before I can stop it, and his smirk widens.
“That’s it,” he taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for.”
“Dominic—”
“...what do you think?” Mason asks, his tone light and casual, like he isn’t just feet away while Dominic is tearing me apart.
I struggle to remember how to breathe, let alone respond. Every nerve in my body is focused on Dominic—his hand wrapped around my throat, his fingers moving inside me with devastating precision.
“Answer. Him.” Dominic pushes his fingers deeper, hitting a spot that has my knees threatening to buckle. “But keep that sweet little voice steady, Little Sinner, or your fiance will hear you coming for me.”
This is wrong. So fucking wrong. But instead, my voice trembles as I force out the words, “That’s… that’s good, babe.”
Mason hums distractedly on the other side of the door. “We’ll head out early then,” Mason continues, completely unaware that I’m clenching around the fingers of another man.
I suck in a sharp breath, trying to focus on his voice, but Dominic tilts his head as he whispers, “He has no fucking clue, does he? Just a few feet away, and I’ve got my fingers buried inside his perfect little fiancée.”
“Stop,” I whisper, though the word comes out more like a plea than a command.
“Stop?” Dominic echoes, his tone mocking, his fingers quickening their pace. “Tell me to stop like you mean it, baby. But we both know you don’t.”
My hips betray me, pressing into his hand, seeking more, and the smirk that curves his lips against my neck makes my stomach twist with equal parts shame and need. He slows his movements, dragging his fingers out achingly slow before plunging them back in.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” he taunts, his voice so low Mason wouldn’t catch it even if he pressed his ear to the door. “So fucking close. Go ahead, baby. Let go while your fiancé listens.”
“You coming soon?” Mason suddenly says. “We still need to figure out tomorrow.”
The casualness of his tone makes my stomach twist, the contrast between his normalcy and what Dominic’s doing to me unbearable. Dominic chuckles low as if he’s savoring every second of my torment.
“Yeah…” My voice is barely steady, trembling as I force the words out. “Be out soon.”
The sound of Mason’s retreating footsteps sounds, and I release a shaky breath, my heart pounding against my ribs. I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to keep from making a sound.
My fingers dig into the marble counter, my nails scraping uselessly against the smooth surface as Dominic continues his assault on my body. His thumb presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves that has me trembling, and I know I’m seconds away from falling apart.
But then he stops.
He rips his hand away, leaving me empty, aching, and furious. I gasp sharply, my body shuddering at the loss, and Dominic’s smirk is pure sin as his hand tightens around my throat.
“Not yet,” he whispers, his voice dripping with mockery as he licks his fingers clean. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”
I want to scream at him, hit him, do something, but my body betrays me again, trembling with frustration and the cruel edge of denied pleasure.
“You can’t just—!”
“You think you’re conflicted now?” he murmurs. “Wait until you’re lying in bed with him tonight, trying not to think about how fucking close I had you.”
“Dominic,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anger and desperation. “We need to stop this.”
His grip loosens slightly, his thumb brushing over my pulse in a way that’s almost tender. “Why, baby? So you can go back to pretending you don’t want this? That you don’t want me?”
His words cut deeper than they should, and I grit my teeth, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, my voice breaking. “You’re—”
“Say it,” he interrupts, his tone sharp, his smirk fading slightly. “Go on, say it. I’m the bad guy, right? I’m the stalker. The unhinged one. But let me ask you something, Little Sinner—” his grip tightens again, pulling me closer until his mouth is a breath away from my ear, “—if I’m so bad, why the fuck didn’t you call Mason as soon as you saw me?”
My breath catches, his words slicing through the thin veneer of resistance I’ve been clinging to. I want to deny him, shove him away, but my hands stay rooted to the counter, my body trembling as the truth sinks in.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” he murmurs, his tone softening into something almost dangerous. “You’re mine. And every time you try to pretend you’re not, every time you try to play house with him, you’ll feel this. Me. Right here. He’ll never own you like I do.”
For a moment we stare at each other in the mirror and I think he might stay, that he might push just a little further, take me to the edge of something I’m not ready to face. But instead he steps back.
“I’ll see you soon, Little Sinner,” he whispers, his voice dripping with promise; with the certainty that I’ll be waiting, that I’ll be craving this all over again.
And before I can say anything, before I can even catch my breath, he slips out of the bathroom through the window, disappearing into the shadows like he was never here at all.
I stand there, gripping the edge of the sink, my heart racing, my pulse wild, still feeling the ghost of his hands on me, his breath against my ear, his voice taunting me, daring me to break.
I should be terrified, should be angry, but all I feel is that same ache, that same craving, the one that’s only grown stronger since he slipped back into my life.
And he’s right. I could have called for help from Mason… but instead I chose him.