Chapter Seven
“Please,” she begged again, her eyes moving behind her lids.
What the fuck was she begging for?
Jealously formed inside me, coming from somewhere in the shadows of my soul.
Who the fuck was she dreaming about—in my damn shirt?
I prowled around to the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do. All I could do was watch her in a tortured silence, knives gathering in my throat.
Her back arched, causing the comforter to slide down further as her leg fell flat. She whimpered again, but I didn’t think it was from pleasure, it sounded pained. At that thought, my eyes dropped going down her neck, past her chest to where her ribs were. She needed to stop before she hurt herself in her sleep.
I was frozen, in a trace as I watched her body writhe, urged on by the dream overtaking her mind. I wanted to call out to her, but for some reason, I couldn’t. My eyes wanted to take everything in, memorize this, engrave the scene in my mind for the rest of my life.
A lifetime of hell, picturing her.
Dominique tossed her head back and forth, her silk hair flying with her. Her lips parted as her body tensed, letting out a sound that made me want to fall to my damn knees. “More, more. Please,” she moaned.
Fuck, she was having a sex dream.
Holy fucking—
My heart was pounding in my chest, sending all the blood in my body straight down to my crotch as it began to swell. With a soft growl, I tore my gaze from her.
This is wrong, Cain.
With all the will I could manage, my feet moved, carrying me away from the bed—from her. I walked through the room painted in a purple light, my ears ringing from her mews and whimpers. They weren’t for me to hear, and I wasn’t supposed to be seeing this.
My hand yanked the door open, my body filled with desire I hadn’t felt in years as I left the room.
Fucking years.
Without a second thought, I left the door cracked, leaning against the wall bedside it as I continued to listen. Sheets ruffled. More mews escaped from her lips. More begging.
She wouldn’t have to beg with me. At least, not that much.
Suddenly, images flooded my mind. Ones of me going back in there and fucking her out of her sleep. I groaned, old memories banging on the locked door in my mind that I shoved them behind when I left Detroit. This was dangerous.
Foolish.
Reckless.
She wasn’t dreaming of me—she never dreamt of me.
That message was clear during my time in New York.
“Please,” she begged again, her voice louder and stronger than before.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight, and my eyes shot to the crack in the door. I stopped breathing at the sight of her open eyes, staring up at the ceiling, her chest heaving. The room filled with her sharp inhales and exhales as I watched her try to process the dream.
“Shit,” she breathed, her voice shaking as her hand came to her forehead. She brought both of her knees up, kicking the comforter away, exposing her long, golden legs, her right foot wrapped in bandages.
My jaw hardened to the point of pain—mirroring my dick straining against the zipper of my pants.
I’d never seen anything more beautiful—
What the fuck was she doing?
Through the crack, I witnessed her bite her bottom lip, her knees falling open as her hand dropped from her forehead to her breast, cupping it over my shirt. Dominique moaned again. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this,” she sighed in frustration, messaging her breast.
No, you fucking shouldn’t. Not with a man like me watching.
My mouth watered, my eyes studying the way she worked her breast. In the neon light, even from this distance, I could see how hard her nipples were, poking up against the shirt.
“I just need to feel good for once,” she muttered, as if she needed to justify pleasuring herself.
After everything, I needed her to.
I needed her to feel good—even for a few moments.
My dick twitched, pleading for some kind of mercy. Thoughts gone, I was driven by a primal urge as my hand cupped the front of my jeans, pressing against my aching fucking cock. I bit down, trying to suppress my groan.
“For shits and giggles,” she said, her other hand coming into play now, slithering down over her stomach.
“Fuck,” I whispered, eyes wide.
Her long, delicate fingers lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing more skin and brightly colored lace. Her eyes snapped up the ceiling once more, her head falling back. My hand moved on its own, flicking open the button of my jeans and going inside. My hand wrapped around my hardened shaft at the same time hers dove into her panties. When I knew her fingers touched her clit, I moved my hand, watching her like a madman.
“Yes,” she hissed, moving her hand to the other breast.
“That’s it, baby,” I whispered, jacking myself slowly now. Make yourself feel good.
Her hand moved in a circle inside her panties, her fingers playing with her clit. “I’m so fucking wet,” she murmured, her sweet voice filled with need. I shoved my jeans down lower, freeing myself fully so I could stroke hard, my hand rubbing against the head, pre-cum dripping at the sight before me.
“I know you are, Nik, I know,” I told her under my breath, my muscles tensing.
She worked herself harder, her hips starting to move as she humped her hand. The hand on her breast snapped away before she shoved my shirt up, revealing her stomach and breasts. My hips snapped at the sight, as if on instinct. I braced my other hand on the door frame, squeezing it so hard, I was afraid it would snap.
“I just—I had to,” she whispered, eyes closed now as she moaned once more.
I wanted to close my eyes as pleasure built at the base of my spine, tingling and ready. Heat soared throughout my body as I fucked my hand faster watching the woman I grew up with.
The woman I could never fucking have.
The woman I drove to hate me.
“Pleasure yourself,” I bit off in hushed voice. “Give your man a show.”
Fuck, she wasn”t mine, but right now, she was.
My fingers tightened around the wood of the door frame, the other squeezing my shaft harder as my balls tightened.
“Fuck me,” she begged, her voice shaking.
I bit down, dropping my head to watch my hand and hips move in time, picturing her legs spread wide for me, her wet cunt swallowing my cock over and over. “Every day,” I promised her softly, groaning. “Every damn day.”
“Yes!” she whimpered. I knew that pitch.
Sweat forming on my skin, I lifted my head just in time to see her back come off the mattress, her knees snapping close, body shaking. Her eyes were closed as she let out a silent cry, one that morphed into a desperate moan. “Oh, yes!” she breathed. I could still see her hand working her through her climax.
I was about to follow her when she cried out again, a second wave hitting her.
“Oh, yes…Cain! Please, God, Cain!”
My eyes widened at the sound of my name on her lips.
Before I could process anything, it triggered my own climax. Pleasure shot through me at the sound as I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut. She continued to cry out as I grunted in disbelief, my release shooting out, causing my knees to buckle. White spots danced in my eyes as the heat intensified, my hand continuing to fuck me, over and over, getting out every last drop for her. She said my name.
She said my fucking name.
When I looked up, Dominique was lying flat again, only one knee bent as she stared up. “What the hell am I doing?” she asked the room.
“I have no fucking idea,” I replied softly, the need and pleasure subsided now.
All that was left were three things:
Confusion.
Fear.
Anger.
I didn’t move from my spot until she was back asleep. Then, I quietly pulled the door shut and turned, jeans still undone, heading into the kitchen. I tried not to let the last ten minutes replay in my head. This was not the place. I needed to get out of here. I needed to clear my fucking head. I approached the sink as the wind howled outside, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.
So instead of wondering why, after all this time, she was fingering herself to the thought of me, I thought of things that calmed me down. I thought about another project, a super engine similar to the one I’d just finished up. This customer lived in LA. and didn’t know one thing about racing.
They had money and wanted bragging rights.
I didn’t give a shit if they drove the cars or not. The money was all that mattered to me.
I grabbed a paper towel before walking back to clean up the mess I made on the door. When I was done, I went back into the kitchen, pushing the mind warping pleasure I’d just experience to the back of my mind.
As I washed my hands, fastened my jeans, and tried to collect myself, something felt off in my gut. Brows furrowed, I shut the water off until there was only a drip and turned to grab the hand towel. Drying my hands, I leaned against the counter, my mind on engines and things I could control.
When I looked up, dread filled me completely.
The view of the lit-up Arch had been dimmed by the thick, unrelenting sheet of snow shooting down from the sky.
I blinked, trying to remember what the weather report had said this morning. The wind howled again, and my head snapped over to the front door as something outside banged on it. Moving around the island, I pulled out my gun, pointing it to the floor. One foot in front of the other, I made my way to the door as the banging continued. I looked behind me to see if Dominique had woken up, but her door was still closed, no light shining underneath it.
The volume of the banging got louder as two sharp ones echoed back-to-back. Finger on the trigger, I unlocked the door and yanked it open, snapping my gun up.
Standing in the middle of the violent snowfall was Sullie, bundled up. He stepped inside, not bothering to look at me or the gun pointed at him. He slammed the door and turned to me, pulling off his hat and scarf. If he was shocked to see me here, he didn’t show it.
Sullie’s brown eyes dropped to the barrel of my gun for a moment before flicking back up to my face. “You planning on shooting me, Cain?” he asked.
“Didn’t know it was you,” I muttered, lowering the gun.
He hummed, raising a brow as he looked me up and down. “What are you doing here?”
I tried my best not to stiffen at his question—one that he had every fucking right to ask. “Checking on Dominique,” I told him.
He was carrying bags and adjusted them as he walked around me. “Uh huh.”
I turned to face him, not knowing what else to say or do. His shoes pounded on the floor as he made his way into the kitchen, turning the light on above the stove after setting the bags on the island. “Storm’s here,” he said, unloading the bags.
My head turned to the window, my eyes on the snow. “Three days early,” I cursed, shaking my head. My fingers ran through my hair as I walked over the island. I pulled out my phone, checking the weather app.
“A buddy of mine who worked at the news station called me to give me a heads up,” Sullie explained as I studied the radar, the low temps and constant snow causing dread to settle on my shoulders.
“Fuck,” I bit off, shaking my head. I closed out of the app and moved to a different one, logging in, and making sure everything else was working properly.
“Exactly. This is supposed to be worse than 1982,” he told me, pulling out canned and dried goods.
“How bad was 1982, Sullie?” I questioned.
The big man halted his movements, looked at me from across the island. “A good friend of a friend froze to death in his home, boy. That’s how bad it was.”
Before I could stop myself, I looked down the hall, my eyes lingering on her door.
Would she be here alone?
What if the building lost power?
“Do you have a generator?” I asked, giving him my attention again.
He nodded once before turning and opening the fridge, setting the bag of Granny Smiths on the shelf. Granny Smiths were Dominique’s favorite. My eyes dropped down to the other contents of the bags, taking note of the packs of Oreos and a jar of peanut butter. More of her favorites.
“It”s old though,” Sullie said, pulling me from my thoughts.
When looked back up, I found him watching me closely, his eyes guarded. I didn’t take offense to that. I was around Sullie long enough to know that his guard was always up, even around his loved ones. There was never a moment when he was completely relaxed. He was just very good at making it appear that way.
“So what’s your plan?” I pressed, bracing my hands on the granite, a stray hair falling onto my forehead.
“The plan is to hunker down. Nikki and I have already discussed this. I offered for her to come stay with me, and even Dontell offered his spare room, but she refused. She wants to stay in the loft, and I’m not going to push her. If she is comfortable here, then okay,” he explained simply.
“She doesn’t need to be here alone.”
Sullie nodded somewhat, agreeing with me. “I agree, but she’s an adult. I also offered to stay downstairs so she wouldn’t be alone. She declined that, too.”
I felt my jaw muscle jumping under my skin. What the fuck was wrong with her? There was help all around, and she wasn’t taking it—in a fucking blizzard. Sighing through my nose, I made the decision.
“I’ll be staying with her then,” I declared.
The big man stared at me for a moment, his lips curving up on one side. “I see,” he finally muttered, sounding satisfied. Ignoring him and his strange acceptance, I moved away from the island, pulling out my phone to call his nephew.
It rang three times before I heard, “For fuck’s sake.”
“Sorry,” I said, meaning it. Jeremy was under a shit ton of stress; the last thing I wanted to do was interrupt his sleep. “I was at the loft checking on Dominique and your uncle showed up. The—”
“You went to check on her at this hour?” he cut me off. He sounded more awake now.
I sighed. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without laying eyes on her, Jer.”
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally muttered in agreement. “I get that.”
“The blizzard is here. Three days early,” I stated, getting to the fucking point.
“Fucking—”
I heard movement and a soft voice that belonged to Casey. Then, I heard a door open and shut. “Fucking hell,” Jer bit off.
I assumed he was looking out his window. “I made sure everything at Oasis was okay before I locked up.”
“Thank you,” he sighed. I could see him pinching the bridge of his nose in my mind. “This is supposed to be a bad one. I don’t think that bastard would try anything…” He trailed off, uncertain.
Kavi would.
He absolutely would.
His enemies bunkered down in a blizzard? Fuck, it was too easy for a snake like him.
“When I was coming into the loft tonight, I saw a car on the next street over from the top of the stairs,” I told him, anger coiling in my gut. “Black town car. I watched it until it drove away.”
“You get a plate number?”
I fed the information to him to give to Casey. Hopefully, we could get some information.
“Got it,” Jer muttered.
“Dominique doesn’t need to be alone during this storm,” I stated firmly, looking over my shoulder at Sullie. “She doesn’t want to go to Dontell’s or Sullie’s.”
“I know,” he sighed. “We don’t need her staying alone if fucking Kavi’s guys are lurking. Not while she’s healing.”
“Which is why I’m staying here—with her,” I declared, looking back out the window, the city before me disappearing through the thick snowfall.
Immediately accepting it, he asked, “She can’t go to your place? Where you both would be better protected?”
I scratched my jaw. There was no way in fucking hell she’d come with me, and we would need to leave now to make it there. “I’d have to drag her kicking and screaming.”
He cursed under his breath. “Why are all the women in my life stubborn pains in my ass?”
“Shut up!” Casey yelled in the background. I listened with raised brows as her English morphed into Spanish.
“Alright, Cain. Stay with Dominique. We’ll update everyone in the morning. I have to call some Crew members. Gotta make sure the homeless have warmth.”
Jeremy Jones was a good man.
“Right,” I murmured.
“Later.”
The line went dead, and I turned back to the former Crew leader. “Your nephew is going to work on getting the homeless some place warm.”
Sullie smiled, mainly to himself. “Good boy, my nephew.”
I nodded once. “Yeah, he is.”
“Casey will get the info on those tags,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the car. The Crew has eyes everywhere—especially in this neighborhood.”
I knew this, and I didn’t have anything to say. The man studied me again, silence stretching between us. “I know you were Bratva.”
Once again, there was nothing to say. I knew that everyone aside from Dominique knew the truth by now, and I wanted to do everything in my power to keep it that way.
“From my understanding,” he began, walking away from the dimly light kitchen, putting his hands in his coat pockets, “is that you did it to save your brother.”
I looked away, jaw now aching from how tightly I’d been biting down. “Yeah, I did.”
“Cain,” Sullie called, his voice the softest I’d ever heard it.
When I looked back to him, pride shined in his eyes like the summer sun after a heavy rain. It gutted me. I’d never made anyone proud before.
“You did what you had to do. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he assured.
I swallowed the hundreds of knives in my throat. “I betrayed a true brother to save someone I share blood with, Mr. Jones,” I deadpanned. “I don’t deserve your approval or your pride.”
The bar owner nodded, looking solemn. “We all do what we have to do.”
“We all do what we have to do,” I repeated back to him.
What I had to do would haunt me for the rest of my life, and when I died, I’d be burning in hell with the bastards who put me on the path.