51. His Sinner
Chapter fifty-one
His Sinner
I wake up to the warm press of Dominic’s body molded against mine, his arm heavy around my waist, anchoring me in place. His hand rests just under my ribs, his fingers twitching like even in sleep he refuses to let go.
His breath is hot against the back of my neck, and for a moment, I stay perfectly still, letting the reality of where I am sink in.
I thought I’d feel regret. Shame. Guilt. Instead, all I feel is free.
Last night wasn’t a mistake—it was a reckoning. The parts of me I spent years trying to bury are finally out in the open, raw and undeniable.
And Dominic… he didn’t just accept them. He demanded them. Claimed them.
I glance at his hand, wrapped tightly around me like I’m his lifeline. Even in sleep, he’s possessive. I shift slightly, testing the limits of his hold, and his grip tightens. His chest presses against my back, solid and warm, his breath brushing against the back of my neck.
It’s like he can sense my every thought, every movement, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I need to get up, to take a moment to myself before he wakes and pulls me back under his spell.
Carefully, I try to slide out from under his arm, but the moment I move, his hand clamps down on my waist like a vise.
“Where the fuck are you going?” His voice is rough with sleep, but the edge in it makes my pulse skip.
I freeze. Caught. “Relax, fucking hell,” I murmur, trying to sound casual. “I just need to pee.”
For a second, he doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if he’ll let me go. Then, with a low grunt, he releases me, his arm falling away.
“Fine. But don’t think you’re sneaking off anywhere, Little Sinner. You’re not going far without me.”
I slide out of bed, every muscle in my body protesting the movement. The moment my feet hit the floor and I take a step, I gasp. A sharp pain shoots up my pussy, radiates through my thighs and between my legs.
My hand shoots out to the wall for balance, and behind me, Dominic lets out a deep chuckle.
“That’s my girl,” he says, smug as fuck. “You’re welcome, baby.”
Heat flushes my face as I force myself to straighten, my jaw tightening against the ache. Every step sends a sharp, pulsing reminder of just how thoroughly Dominic fucked me last night. I grit my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.
“Shut up,” I mutter, my voice clipped as I shuffle toward the bathroom.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he calls after me, his voice teasing and dripping with that infuriating confidence he wears so well. “You’d be complaining if you didn’t feel it.”
I glare over my shoulder at him, but he just smirks, his head sinking back into the pillow like he’s already won. Bastard.
“You’re an asshole,” I shoot back, my hand gripping the door frame as I steady myself.
“And you love it,” he says smoothly, his voice following me like a shadow.
I slam the bathroom door shut, leaning against it for a second to catch my breath. My body aches in ways I didn’t even think were possible, and I can still feel the faint impression of his hands on my skin—like a brand I can’t scrub off.
After taking care of business, I take a few steps toward the sink, hissing at the pull of sore muscles, and catch my reflection in the mirror.
Hair tangled, lips swollen, faint bruises dotting my skin like marks of ownership. My thighs quiver as I shift my weight, and I wince, biting back a groan. He did this. He did all of this.
A reminder, like everything else, of exactly who I belong to. I should feel humiliated—or at least conflicted—but instead, a small smile tugs at my lips. I look like myself for the first time in years.
By the time I make it back to bed, he’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with a lazy smirk. His bare chest is on full display, tattoos sprawling across his skin and those nipple piercings I need to pull with my teeth.
His eyes track every step I take, dark and predatory, and the moment I get close enough, he grabs my wrist and yanks me back into bed.
“You’re not sneaking off anywhere,” he growls, pulling me flush against him. His arm hooks around my waist, locking me in place like I’m his fucking prisoner. “Not after last night.”
I don’t fight him. Instead, I settle against his chest, letting the heat of him seep into my skin. “What happens now?” I ask softly, staring at the faint scars on his shoulder, tracing them absentmindedly with my finger.
He’s quiet for a moment, his hand sliding up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Now?” he says finally, his voice low and rough. “Now, you stop fucking running from me.”
I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “I’m not running.”
He smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “Not anymore,” he agrees. “But let’s not pretend you didn’t try last time. You killed a woman because of me, Aria. You think that’s something I’ll just let you walk away from?”
The memory of last night crashes over me—the blood, the knife, the rage I didn’t even know I was capable of. I blanch, my stomach twisting, and Dominic’s smirk widens.
“Forgot about that, didn’t you?” he says, his tone almost teasing. “Don’t worry, Little Sinner. It’s handled.”
I blink at him, my throat dry. “Handled?”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “The body’s gone. No evidence, no loose ends. My brothers took care of it.”
I stare at him, equal parts horrified and relieved. “You just… had it cleaned it up?”
“What the fuck did you think I was gonna do? Leave her on your doorstep with a note?” He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “You belong to me. That means your problems are my problems. And I don’t leave shit unfinished.”
I bite my lip, my mind spinning. “What about my cabin?” I ask after a moment, needing to latch onto something else, anything else. “Do I just… stay there?”
His smirk fades, replaced by a look of quiet intensity that makes my pulse skip. “You’re moving in here,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.
I blink, caught off guard. “I got the cabin because of you,” I remind him. “To get away from—”
“From me,” he cuts in. “And look how well that fucking worked.”
“And if I don’t move in?” I ask softly, testing the waters, though I already know the answer.
His grin is sharp and dangerous, his hand sliding down to grip the back of my neck. “You will,” he says simply. “Because if you don’t, I’ll burn the fucking place down.”
My breath catches, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Knowing Dominic, he’s probably not. “Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he says, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I’m obsessed. There’s a difference.”
He kisses me before I can respond, pulling me under like a riptide. The tension in my body fades and I moan into the kiss. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless and he smirks down at me like he knows exactly what he’s done.
“So,” he says, his tone lighter now, though the edge of possessiveness remains. “What’s it gonna be, Little Sinner? The cabin, or here with me?”
I sigh, letting my head fall against his chest. “Do I even have a choice?”
His laugh vibrates through me, and he tightens his grip around my waist. “Not really,” he admits. “But it’s cute that you think you do.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll stay.”
“Good girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I should feel trapped, suffocated by the weight of his possessiveness. But instead, all I feel is… safe. Safe in a way I haven’t felt in years and I don’t fight it.
Dominic moves, his hand sliding down to rest on my hip, his thumb brushing the tender skin there. “You’re sore,” he says.
I hesitate, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but my body betrays me, a wince slipping out as I move my legs slightly. He notices, of course. He always notices. “Let me fix it.”
I start to protest, but before I can get a word out, Dominic’s already moving. He rolls us over with infuriating ease, pinning me beneath him, his hands bracketing my waist.
His green eyes are alight with something dangerous, something possessive, but there’s a flicker of softness beneath it—a rare glimpse of the man he hides from the rest of the world.
“Dom, I’m fine,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction. My thighs ache, my muscles sore and strained, and even I can’t deny how wrecked I feel.
“You’re not fine,” he counters, then his hand cups my pussy. I let out an involuntary hiss, and his lips twitched into a knowing grin. “See? You ache because of me. Let me make it better.”
Before I can argue, he’s already moving, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone, then another to the swell of my breast. His lips trail lower, his hands sliding over my thighs, spreading them with deliberate slowness.
The ache between my legs flares, and I suck in a sharp breath as his mouth follows the path of his hands. “Dom, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he cuts me off, his voice firm as he glances up at me. “And you’re going to let me.”
I bite my lip, my protest dying on my tongue as his mouth brushes over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
The warmth of his breath sends goosebumps skittering across my skin, and I can’t suppress the small gasp that escapes me when his tongue flicks out, teasing. I try to close them instinctively, but his grip tightens, holding me in place.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice rough but soothing as he kisses the tender flesh. “Let me kiss it better, baby.”
I hate how easily those words unravel me, but I nod, my heart racing as his hands slide further up my legs. He leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the inside of my thighs, his stubble brushing against my sensitive skin and sending shivers racing through me.
“Dominic,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “You don’t—”
“Shut up,” he interrupts, his tone rough but teasing. “You don’t get a say, Little Sinner. This is mine. And I’ll take care of it however the fuck I want.”
He presses his tongue flat against my pussy and licks a long stripe up my slit. My head falls back against the pillow, a whimper escaping my lips as he doubles down, his grip tightening, his tongue dragging over every inch of me with a single-minded focus that leaves me gasping.
The ache in my thighs is forgotten, replaced by the white-hot pleasure building between my legs. It’s not just care—it’s possession. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of the piercing, is calculated, designed to make me unravel under his touch.
And I do, my body arching, my breathing shallow, his name falling from my lips in broken whispers.
I let out a broken moan, my fingers tangling in his hair as he drags me closer to the edge, his mouth relentless. The ache I felt before is a distant memory now, replaced by a throbbing heat that has my entire body begging for more.
“Dominic,” I gasp, my voice barely audible, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, his movements become more focused, his pierced tongue working me with an expertise that leaves no room for coherent thought. “I—I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” he says, his voice gentle, his hands tightening on my hips as though to anchor me. “You can, baby. I’ve got you.”
The words are my undoing. My body trembles as the tension coils tight, then snaps, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. I gasp, my back arching off the bed and he doesn’t stop until I’m shaking beneath him, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body spent and trembling.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his grin smug as he crawls up my body. He brushes a damp strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek as he looks down at me.
“There,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of pride. “Better?”
I manage a weak nod, my chest still heaving as I try to catch my breath. He chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Told you I’d take care of you,” he says, his tone teasing but warm.
For once, I don’t argue. I just let him pull me into his arms, my body melting against his as he holds me close.