Chapter 17 Dominic
DOMINIC
It’s late. The manic traffic around London kept me away from Mia for hours, and I should probably just go home.
Mia is fast asleep by now, or at least she should be.
There’s no point heading over there when she’s resting.
I should leave her be. But I find myself taking the streets to Knightsbridge anyway, wondering if she’s still awake, hoping that maybe she is.
My phone pings.
Are you OK?
As though she can read my mind.
Of course she’s not asleep. I said I’d be there and I’m not. She’s waiting for me, and I’ve been out being a fucking brute instead of being with her.
I pull up outside her house, and before I’ve even reached the gate, it buzzes to let me in. Mia is waiting by the door, looking ethereal in a long black slip dress, her dark hair piled on top of her head.
She smiles at me weakly. “Didn’t want to wake up Char with the bell.”
“She asleep already?”
Mia nods, stepping aside to let me in and watching as I slip off my shoes and jacket. “We went to lie down, but I couldn’t shut my brain off. Not even a bang to the head’ll do it.”
We stand in the hallway, and she gazes up at me.
“You don’t look like you just beat the shit out of someone,” she says, lifting her eyebrow. “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?”
I give her a crooked smile. “He had a surprisingly tough mid section. He must work out.” I lift my hand to show her my red knuckles, and she gasps.
“Bloody hell.” She snatches my hand and drags me down the hallway. “That needs seeing to.”
“It’s fine, Mia.”
“It’s bloody not.” She stops in the kitchen and points to where I’m standing. “Don’t move.”
I do as she says, watching as she retrieves a first aid kit from a cupboard beside the fridge. She unzips it, rifling through it as she walks back to me.
“You men and getting your fists involved,” she mutters, pulling out a yellow tube of ointment and some packaged gauze. She sits up on the kitchen counter, and pulls me to her, tutting as she looks down at my red knuckles. “And over what?”
“Over you, love.”
She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I’m flattered.” She squeezes some ointment onto the gauze and gently taps it to my raw flesh. “Though I don’t know what you think this will achieve. Hardcastle is going to be on the warpath now and you’re going to get yourself arrested.”
I shake my head, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m standing between her thighs, and definitely trying not to look at her breasts in her slinky black dress.
“I warned him, if the police got involved I’d destroy him.”
“You got that option and all, with your money.” Satisfied that the skin on my knuckles is now tended to, she packs the ointment away into the bag and throws the gauze into the sink. With a sigh, she puts a hand to my chest. “Archie’s back.”
I’m sure she’s able to feel the sudden wrench my heart makes in my chest.
“Oh.” I nod slowly. “And what did he have to say for himself?”
Mia shrugs, her eyes still fixed on her hand against my chest. “Not much really. Sort of avoided a lot of questions, was a smug little shit and then blamed me for a lot of it.”
“Sounds like Archie.” I carefully put my hands on the counter beside her, not close enough to touch, but the movement is enough to close some distance between us, enough that I can feel the heat from her skin and the warmth of her breath tickling my neck.
“Yes, it does.” Her fingers flex on my chest, and she sucks in a small breath. “He… he accused me of sleeping with Jordan.”
“Jordan?” A laugh rumbles through me.
“Mhmm.” Her eyes move up to mine. “And you.”
The distance between us feels too great for the way she’s looking at me.
“Me?”
She nods. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Completely. What a thought.”
“I mean, you and me? What would even make him think that?”
A heartbeat passes, then two. Her eyes bore into mine, and it feels like there’s an aching chasm between us now, too far to bear.
I should say no. This is my cue to step back and be a gentleman, to do the honourable thing, to do the right fucking thing and leave before we do something that can’t be undone.
But that’s no longer an option.
Mia’s hand curls into a fist, gripping my shirt and pulling me to her, and then her mouth slams into mine.
Or maybe it’s my arms around her waist that pulled her close.
Or maybe we’re just a fucking storm that’s been brewing all these weeks while we found our way to someone we never should have been looking for.
Kissing her makes sense in a way that nothing else ever has in my life.
She’s hungry, unrelenting, her kiss filled with heat. Our tongues stroke against each other, and my hands move from her waist to underneath her dress, pushing it up her thighs so I can run my fingers along her soft skin.
You can still turn back. You can still pull away.
I groan into her mouth as my hands find her bare arse. “Fuck,” I gasp. “You need to tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “No.”
“Mia, this is wrong.” My mouth trails from her lips, along her jawline, down her neck. “We can’t do this.”
“We can hate ourselves for it later.” She doesn’t even sound sorry, not a bit. Her head tips back to let my lips roam along the soft skin of her throat, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My words and my actions certainly aren’t fucking matching up.
“Mia.” I murmur her name against her skin, pushing the strap of her dress from her shoulder to reveal more, more of her, and she slides her arms out of the straps so the dress settles around her waist.
I have to take a second at the sight, to try to calm the whirring in my brain. She leans back on her hands, her chest heaving slightly, and she presses her hitched leg to my side.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I run my hands up her stomach, gently cupping her breasts. They’re small but perfect, dwarfed by my ridiculously huge hands. I caress her peachy nipples with my thumbs, and her head drops back.
She moans softly, scrambling at the hem of her dress with her right hand, yanking it up so she can bare her cunt to me.
Her slit is glistening, slick with arousal, adorned with a thin strip of damp curls. The sight is enough to bring me to my knees, and she lets out a small gasp of surprise when I press my lips to her inner thigh.
“Dominic.” She almost sounds a little panicked.
I shake my head, not even knowing what I’m refusing, and trail my lips closer to her cunt. “I need to taste you.”
“But-” She cuts off with a sharp mmm sound as I close my mouth over her clit, pressing the flat of my tongue to it. Her fingernails rake through my hair, her thighs shaking ever so gently. “D-Dom, I-”
I curl my hands around her thighs and press her to my face, looking up to meet her eyes. Maybe I will hate myself for this later, like she said. Maybe I’ll rage and regret and be furious that I let myself fall.
But looking into the face of this woman as she moans, watching the pinch of her brow as she keeps stroking her fingers through my hair, I can’t hate myself.
It feels too right.
I want to explore all of her, take my time and pleasure her the way she deserves. But then I remember we’re in her fucking kitchen, and her best friend is sleeping in the next room.
Exploring will have to wait until next time.
Next time??
As thoughtless and ill-advised this moment is, I don’t want it to be the last time. It can’t be. She can’t want it to be, either. This isn’t because Archie is back. This isn’t jealousy or revenge.
It’s because she wants me.
Her breath is choppy, short ragged breaths tearing from her lips. Her fingers curl into my hair, and she’s fucking my face, grinding herself against me, her clit sliding over and over against my tongue.
I think she says my name, a short, high-pitched plea, and then she unravels. Her thighs shake violently as she moans out a long breath. Her sweetness pours over my tongue, and my cock drips and aches with need.
Despite the orgasm that is still sending shockwaves through her body, she makes it more than obvious that she needs me.
She grasps my shoulders, urging me to stand between her thighs, and she strokes her tongue along my lips.
Tasting herself on my lips is somehow the sexiest thing a woman has ever done, and I suppress a groan.
She reaches down between us, panting, and fiddles with my trousers.
“I need more,” she whispers.
“So do I.” I draw her bottom lip between my teeth, biting down gently, and she sighs.
Desire shoots through my limbs as she finally frees my cock and wraps her hand around me.
A soft laugh echoes through her. She’s clearly pleased with what she’s feeling.
She edges her hips forward slightly, guiding me to where she wants me, and now I’m truly outmatched.
I can’t fight anything anymore. There’s only her and the heat of her pussy enveloping the tip of my cock.
Her eyes meet mine, her hands skating down my back to my arse, and she brushes her lips against mine.
The pressure of her hands is a command, and slowly, I sink into her.
Her eyelashes flutter, her nails digging into my skin and hopefully leaving marks.
With a quick gasp, she takes all of me, her head falling back and her lips trembling.
And I know instantly, this is hell.
The way she feels wrapped around me, it’s too good to be heaven.
Only hell could have me here, buried deep inside my daughter-in-law.
Only hell could have me punching my hips forward to fuck her.
Only hell could have my eyes rolling back in my head at how wet she is, how tight she is, how impossibly perfect she is.
Heaven could never make something this wrong, this sweet.
Her arms move up my chest to curl around my neck, and I bring my mouth down on hers. Kissing her makes the flaring need in my groin burn brighter, and I don’t want this to be over yet.
I try to slow my pace, sliding in and out of her in long, smooth strokes. But this is met with a frustrated little whimper from Mia, and she almost hoists herself up against me as she greedily tries to take more.
“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Harder.”
Keeping that even pace, I slam into her, and she smothers her cry against my neck. Her mouth locks onto my skin and she sucks - hard. I groan against her hair, the light brush of her teeth against my skin sending goosebumps down my spine.
And as much as I try to hold off, I can’t. This woman has me undone, defenceless against the heat of her body and the agonising pleasure of her cunt squeezing me.
I crush her against me as my cock begins to twitch inside her, and she whimpers and moans against the crook of my neck. My shame is complete as one hot jet after another explodes inside her. It should be shame, because what the fuck have I just done?
My son’s wife.
How could I?
“I’m so close,” she whimpers, and despite the cold, harsh post-orgasm light, I gently push her back onto her hands, and press a thumb to her clit. With my cock still inside her, I move my thumb in slow circles as she looks at me, panting, her face a soft haze of pleasure.
It’s a carnal sight that I want burned into my brain. My cock coated in cum, stretching her swollen pink skin, her clit engorged. It makes my mouth water.
It doesn’t take long, and she lets out a high-pitched sigh as her pussy clamps down on me.
The stroking, undulating feeling of simply being pressed inside her as she orgasms almost has me hardening again.
She moans, her head falling against her shoulder, and she reaches out to stroke my cheek.
Her hair has come partially loose, hanging in tendrils around her face, and lifts her eyes to mine.
She licks her lips, then sits up to cradle my face in her hands.
I move to withdraw, and she watches as I pull out of her, inch by inch, and gasps softly when I withdraw completely.
She looks back up at me and smiles. “You’ve made a mess of me.”
“You need making a mess of.” I brush a kiss against her lips. “Every day, several times.”
“Doctor’s orders, ey?” She wraps her arms around my neck, and sighs. “I don’t even hate myself. Maybe that’ll come later.” Her face drops into a frown. “I need you to know, I told Archie I wanted a divorce. It’s over between us. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
I know we have. I know I have. But I smile at her all the same, perhaps not wanting to admit to myself just how wrong what we just did is.
I won’t make her suffer for it, for my weakness, my failure, my inability to be a fucking man and a father.
I know what I’ve done tonight is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.
And yet, I can’t hate myself for it either.
Because the way Mia looks right now, disheveled and flushed, her dress pooled around her waist and me running out of her and coating her thighs - how could I ever hate myself for how perfect she looks?
She’s mine. That’s all I can think, over and over.
She’s mine.