Chapter 26 Kobe #2
He was not gentle. The act bordered on punishing, but who was he punishing? Himself for caving or me for awakening this desire he’d gone to great lengths to suppress?
We met somewhere on the haunted plane of existence where Dominique seemed to live.
Connected, I shared his pain. I shared his suffering.
With every deliberate thrust into my body, his heart screamed in agony.
His soul cried. I held every shattered piece of this man’s soul in the palm of my hand.
I would not let go. I would take care of him.
I would piece him together bit by bit until he was whole once more.
I came on a stifled cry, body shuddering violently as Dominique stroked me through my orgasm.
When the pleasure ebbed and finally faded, he collapsed against my chest, crushing me to the bed.
His hips moved in an uncoordinated rhythm as he buried his face in my neck and continued to thrust, chasing the end, running to that inevitable finish line.
A short time later, one hand fisted painfully in my hair, he groaned and shuddered with release.
Then, all went quiet and still. The only sound was our hearts knocking in furious synchronization.
Dizzy from the experience, it took me a long time to come back to earth. It was Christmas morning. Dominique had fucked me so hard my brain cells were scrambled. I didn’t know what time it was, but exhaustion stole my ability to keep my eyes open. Had it all been a dream? Was I awake?
I registered a warm cloth over my abdomen before comforting arms circled me, dragging me against a broad chest. Dominique kissed my neck, my shoulder, and the shell of my ear. “Sleep.”
And I did.
I couldn’t have been under for long when a tiny voice beside the bed whispered, “Papa. Papa. I no sleeping anymore.”
“Did you go potty?” a deeper voice asked.
“Non.”
“Va pipi.”
“Non.” A sulky rebellion.
Firmer. “Cosette, va faire pipi.”
A whine, then soft feet padded away.
Dominique groaned, and the warm embrace vanished. I felt him stretch out and yawn on the bed beside me. “Are you awake?” he asked.
“No. I was having the best dream. It was so real.”
Dominique shuffled. The mattress dipped, jostling me. A delicate kiss landed on my cheek. “Oh?”
“So real my ass is sore.” I pressed back, seeking contact.
He chuckled. “I’m sorry. Was I too rough?”
“No. It was fantastic. I didn’t expect that from you.”
He hummed meaningfully. “I’m going to start coffee.”
Yawning, I turned my face against the pillow. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
The minute Dominique was gone, I begrudgingly rolled out of bed and collected my backpack, heading for the bathroom. Before escaping from the bedroom, I peeked to be sure a toddler wasn’t about to see me run naked down the hall. The coast was clear.
I turned on the shower, setting the temperature before staring blearily at my reflection in the mirror.
“Fuck me.” I snorted and bent closer to the glass to get a better look at myself. My body was riddled with bruises and scratch marks from earlier.
Not only did I have a mild ache in my ass, but my other muscles complained at being so thoroughly manipulated and contorted by my excited lover. I was wrecked in the best possible way and took a certain satisfaction from the lingering war wounds.
Any questions I had about the doctor’s experience were laid to rest. The man knew what he was doing, and he was damn good.
I relived it over and over as I washed and dressed, catching myself smiling more than once.
Following the scent of coffee to the kitchen, I hummed a tune, feeling calm and satiated.
It had been a long time since I’d celebrated Christmas, and it was the first one I’d ever looked forward to.
I wasn’t alone, and the glimpse at what a future with Dominique might entail gave me energy.
I found Dominique and Cosette in the living room, the latter unpacking a stocking full of goodies, smears of chocolate decorating the corners of her mouth. When Dominique glanced up with a warm smile, my lips parted in surprise.
He hadn’t escaped our foray unscathed. A faint bruise colored his cheekbone, and two tiny scratches lay partly hidden in his morning stubble over his jaw.
“Damn.” I approached and kissed them both, whispering an apology in his ear.
Dominique wrapped an arm around me and slinked a hand over my ass, gently squeezing. “Don’t worry about me. How are you?”
“Pleasantly sore and viciously marked. Turns out my lover is a beast in bed, and for the record, that is not a complaint.”
“Good.” He kissed my temple with a content sigh.
Later, Dominique introduced me to princess pancakes—made using a mold that I argued looked nothing like a princess. Cosette and I added strawberries to ours along with thick layers of whipped cream and syrup.
Dominique looked like he wanted to protest the sheer volume of sugar but kept his mouth shut.
We left the dishes and gathered in the living room, where Cosette unwrapped endless presents with the trademark enthusiasm of a toddler. Dolls, toy purses, plastic jewelry, and new clothes. Hair ties and simple board games. A princess costume and art supplies.
I had gotten her an eight-piece musical instrument set that included a tambourine, a wooden flute, maracas, bells, and more. I thought Dominique was going to deck me, but it was his fault for telling me how much she enjoyed music.
Cosette spent the next hour clanging, banging, and singing every song she knew as she marched around the house dressed like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, red wig and glittery fin included.
Even I regretted my decision after twenty minutes of endless noise.
We spent the afternoon watching children’s Christmas movies—including Jim Carrey as the Grinch—and ended up going for an afternoon walk in the snow to burn off the sheer volume of chocolate Cosette had eaten.
The blizzard had stopped, much to Dominique’s dismay, but enough accumulated that I was able to show Cosette how to make snow angels and build snow princesses.
We landed at a park, and as Cosette ran and played on the snow-covered equipment, Dominique and I threw snowballs at one another, laughing and racing about like we were teenage boys.
I couldn’t have asked for a better day.
What made it even better was that my phone didn’t ring, summoning me to work. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” I said at one point.
Cosette napped when we got home. “Not typical anymore,” Dominique shared, but we had exhausted her.
Taking advantage of the quiet, Dominique and I locked ourselves in the bedroom for a repeat of our pre-dawn foray. Cringing at the numerous welts he’d left behind, Dominique cautiously kissed each one, apologizing more than once.
“I’m not complaining,” I assured him. “Besides, I apparently got you, too.” I touched the bruise on his cheek. It had darkened slightly but wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the bite marks on my ass or the gouges he’d left down the length of my thighs.
That time, we made love slowly and quietly. The fevered pitch from earlier was gone. It was loving touches and sweet caresses. Lingering kisses and shared breath. Our climaxes rolled through us like spring storms rather than destructive hurricanes, and I thought to myself, yes, this could be love.
After, we lay together, happy and sated, chatting about the day and eventually taking our own nap.
Our peaceful bubble did not last long enough. It popped the following day.