Chapter 10 Dominic
Dominic
Sunlight bleeds through the ballistic glass of the bedroom window, cutting a harsh, bright line across the rumpled sheets.
The heavy blackout curtains are pulled back just enough to let the morning in.
For twenty years, I have hated the dawn.
Morning meant a new day of war, twenty-four more hours of tracking Bellanti movements, laundering ghost funds, and dragging my family's survival one more mile on my back.
But today, the light catches the tangled copper curls spread across my chest, and for the first time in two decades, my lungs expand without fighting the air.
Sienna is a warm, heavy weight against my side. Her head rests over my heart, rising and falling with my pulse. One of her pale, slender legs is thrown over my thighs, trapping me beneath the heavy duvet. I don't move. I barely breathe. I just watch her sleep.
Her skin is marked with the faint, fading bruises of her abduction and the darker, fresher marks of my mouth.
The sight of them sends a dark, territorial satisfaction deep into my bones.
Last night, I stripped myself bare. I handed her the ugliest, most unforgivable part of my soul—the truth about Lucia, about the trap I built and never told her about, about Calix bleeding out in the street while my sister vanished into the mountains with the men who actually protected her.
I told her about Tyra. Tiny shoes by the kitchen door.
A four-year-old niece I refused to hold because holding her meant admitting I wasn't God.
I waited for the disgust. I waited for her to look at me the way I look at myself in the mirror.
Instead, she touched my face. She told me I was human.
And then I called Lucia. I heard my sister's voice for the first time in a year, and she asked me if I was eating.
My large, calloused hand moves slowly over the curve of Sienna's waist, tracing the dip of her spine.
The contrast between us is entirely absurd.
I am silvered and scarred, a man built from the violence of the gutter.
She is soft, twenty-eight years of life smelling of peonies and expensive cream. I am violence. She is life.
She stirs, a soft sigh escaping her parted lips. Her eyelashes, pale and thick, flutter against her cheeks before her eyes open. The amber depths are entirely clear, stripped of the terror that lived in them when I first dragged her out of the blood-soaked kitchen of L'Ombra.
She tilts her head up, blinking against the sunlight. "You're awake."
Her voice is thick with sleep, gravelly and low. It settles directly in my cock, a heavy, waking throb of blood.
"I don't sleep when I have you to watch,” I rumble, my hand tightening on her hip.
"You should." She shifts, her bare breasts dragging lightly against my ribcage. The friction is a sudden, sharp torture. "The war isn't going to end because you closed your eyes for six hours, Dominic."
I slide my hand up her spine, my fingers tangling in the heavy mass of her copper hair. I grip the strands, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold her exactly where I want her. "My war is right here now."
Sienna exhales sharply. The sleepy haze vanishes from her eyes, replaced by the dark, heavy heat that I have come to crave like an addict.
She doesn't pull away from the possessive grip of my hand.
She leans into it. She arches her back, pressing her soft belly flush against the hard planes of my abdomen.
I am already hard, my cock thick and aching, pressing heavy against the inside of her thigh.
"Dominic," she whispers. It's not a plea to stop. It's a demand for more.
I roll, reversing our positions in a single, fluid motion.
I pin her to the mattress, my weight settling over her, pressing her deep into the pillows.
She gasps at the sudden change in gravity, her hands coming up to grip my heavy shoulders.
I look down at her, taking in the flushed skin of her throat, the rapid beat of her pulse jumping frantically beneath her jaw.
"You stayed," I say, the words rough, torn from the deepest, bleeding center of my chest. "After everything I told you last night. After the phone call. You stayed in my bed."
"I'm not going anywhere." She reaches up, her thumbs tracing the deep lines on either side of my mouth. "You don't get to push me away, Dominic. You've already claimed the space inside me. I've seen the monster and I've seen the man, and I'm still in your bed."
An animalistic growl rumbles in my throat. I capture both of her wrists in one of my massive hands, pinning them above her head. She is entirely at my mercy, entirely trapped, and the absolute trust in her eyes shatters the last remaining wall of my restraint.
I drop my mouth to her neck, sinking my teeth into the soft, fragrant curve where her shoulder meets her collarbone.
She cries out, her hips jerking upward instinctively.
I soothe the bite with the flat of my tongue, tasting the salt of her skin.
I trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum, breathing in the scent of her—warm, musky, unmistakably wanting—rising off her skin like a heat signature I have already memorized.
"You're mine," I murmur against the heavy curve of her breast. "Every breath. Every heartbeat."
"Yours," she gasps, twisting beneath me.
I drag my body down, my chest sliding flush over her tight, peaked nipples.
The friction makes her arch violently, a desperate whine tearing from her throat.
I settle my hips between her thighs, using my knees to spread her wide, opening her completely to my view.
Her pussy is swollen, her lips slick and heavy with moisture.
I release her wrists, and her hands immediately dive into my hair, gripping the silver strands at the nape of my neck.
I lean over her, my forearms braced on either side of her head, locking my gaze with hers as I reach down between our bodies.
My thick, calloused fingers find her wetness.
I slide a single finger directly over her clit, pressing hard.
Sienna's eyes roll back, her jaw dropping open in a silent scream.
"Look at me," I command.
Her amber eyes snap back to mine, glazed and dilated.
"I want you to see me," I tell her, my voice a dark, rough scrape in the quiet room. "I want you to know exactly who is claiming you."
I replace my fingers with my cock, pressing the blunt, heavy head against her slick pussy.
I don't enter her right away. I drag my length upward, catching her swollen clit, bathing myself in her wetness.
She sobs, her nails biting into my shoulders.
Her hips chase the movement, desperate for the friction, desperate for the fullness, but I hold myself back.
I need this to be deliberate. I need this to be a brand on her soul.
"Dominic, please." Her hips buck up, trying to force me inside.
"Please what, mia luce?"
"Give it to me. Claim me."
The absolute surrender in her voice snaps the tether. I grip her hips, my fingers bruising the soft flesh, and drive my hips forward. I sink into her deep and hard, burying my entire length inside her tight, scalding pussy in one brutal, unbroken thrust.
Sienna screams my name, her body bowing off the mattress.
Her internal walls clamp down around me in a violent spasm, milking the rigid length of my cock.
The sensation is absolute agony and pure, unfiltered divinity.
I stop, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache, fighting the immediate, primal urge to just let go and empty myself into her.
"Christ," I grit out, my forehead dropping to rest against hers. I am buried to the hilt, our bodies flush, no air between us. "You are so fucking tight. You take me so well."
"Move," she begs, her breath hot against my mouth. "Dominic, please move."
I pull back, dragging my length almost entirely out of her, relishing the slick, wet sound of our connection, before plunging deep again.
She cries out, her legs wrapping around my waist, locking her ankles over my lower back to pull me deeper.
I set a punishing, heavy rhythm. Each thrust is a physical declaration. Mine. Mine. Mine.
The bed frame groans under my weight. Each time I drive into her, the wet percussion of skin on skin fills the room—a raw, rhythmic impact that leaves no question about what is happening, what is being claimed.
I watch her face as I fuck her, watching the pleasure contort her features.
Her head thrashes on the pillow, her copper curls a wild halo.
Every time I bottom out inside her, she takes the impact, absorbing the violent force of my body and turning it into heat.
I slide one hand under her lower back, tilting her pelvis up to change the angle, hitting a deep, sensitive spot that makes her walls spasm completely.
"Dominic!" she shrieks, her nails dragging down my back, leaving hot, stinging trails.
Her climax hits her like a physical blow.
Her inner walls pulse violently, crushing around my cock in rapid, spasming waves.
The tight, milking pressure is too much.
The mental image of her completely undone underneath me breaks my control.
I let out a guttural roar, driving my hips forward into a final, brutal thrust, burying myself as deep as I can go.
I explode inside her. Hot, thick pulses of my seed flood her pussy, the release violent—a massive, draining rush that empties every ounce of tension, rage, and guilt from my body. I pump into her, my pulse thundering violently against my ribs, matching the frantic rhythm of hers.
For a long time, the only sound in the room is our jagged, overlapping breathing.