Epilogue #2
His large, calloused hands reach out, not to grab my waist, but to gently frame my face.
The contrast of his lethal, capable hands treating me like something fragile and precious sends a heavy flush of heat straight down between my thighs.
His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, wiping away a smudge of potting soil.
"You've been crying," he murmurs, his deep, gravel-rough voice dropping an octave. His eyes narrow, instantly scanning the room for a threat that isn't there. "Who upset you? Give me a name, Sienna."
"No one," I say quickly, reaching up to wrap my hands around his thick wrists. I can feel the steady, heavy pulse of his blood beneath my fingertips. "Lucia called me."
Dominic goes still, but it is a different kind of stillness than before—not the frozen paralysis of a man terrified to speak to his sister, but the quiet tension of a man who already knows what was said and is bracing for the way it will land.
"She told me about the girls," I say softly. "Tyra's reading sentences. Sera screams like a Costa."
Something shifts behind his eyes. A fracture in the bedrock. He closes them for a moment, his jaw working, and when he opens them again, the raw, bleeding vulnerability I saw the night of his confession is back—unshielded, unmasked.
"I know," he says roughly. "She told me on the call."
I slide my hands up his forearms, gripping his biceps through the expensive wool of his suit jacket. "She's not going anywhere, Dominic. Neither am I."
A harsh, shuddering breath escapes him. His hands drop from my face, catching me by the waist. His large fingers bite into my hips, lifting me off the ground with effortless, terrifying strength.
I gasp as he sets me down heavily on the edge of the stainless-steel worktable, sweeping a dozen discarded stems of eucalyptus out of the way to make room.
He steps perfectly between my parted thighs, crowding into my space, pressing the solid, unyielding heat of his cock against my pussy through the thin fabric of my dress.
"You belong to me," he growls, the raw possessiveness bleeding out of him in waves. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling the scent of my skin like it's oxygen. "Tell me you know that. Tell me you aren't just staying out of pity for a broken man."
"I'm staying because you're mine just as much as I'm yours," I breathe, threading my fingers into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck, loving the rough texture of the silver strands at his temples. I tug, forcing him to look at me. "I don't pity you, Dominic. I want you."
That is all the permission he needs. The tether of his control snaps.
His mouth crashes down on mine. There is nothing gentle about the kiss; it is an absolute conquest, a claiming of territory.
His lips are hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting, possessing, taking everything I have to give and demanding more.
The blunt force of his hunger sends a spike of pure adrenaline straight to my pussy.
I open for him completely, my tongue tangling with his, a wet, desperate friction that has my hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket.
He groans, a deep, primal sound that vibrates against my chest. His hands go to the knot at the back of my apron, tearing it loose. The heavy canvas drops to the floor. Underneath, I am wearing a simple, thin cotton sundress. It is entirely insufficient defense against the Don of Chicago.
Dominic's large hands slide up my bare thighs, the heavy, rough pads of his calloused fingers dragging against my sensitive skin.
Every place he touches leaves a trail of searing heat.
He bunches the fabric of my dress in his fists, pushing it up past my hips, pooling it around my waist. The cool air of the heavily air-conditioned shop hits my bare skin, but it is immediately eradicated by the blistering heat of his large, warm palms as they cup my bare ass.
He lifts me slightly, pulling me flush against the hard ridge of his erection trapped beneath his tailored trousers. I let out a sharp, needy whine against his mouth, my hips instinctively rocking forward, seeking the friction.
"Impatient," he murmurs against my lips, biting down lightly on my lower lip, making me gasp.
"I spent all morning sitting in a room with men who want to carve up my territory, and all I could think about was the way you unravelled when you came on my fingers last night. The way you gave yourself to me."
"Show me," I whisper, my voice breathless, my hands frantically pushing his suit jacket off his broad shoulders.
It hits the floor in a heap of thousand-dollar wool.
I tear at the buttons of his dress shirt, needing the heat of his skin against mine.
He lets me strip him down, standing perfectly still while I yank the shirt from the waistband of his trousers.
His chest is a landscape of hard muscle, dark hair, and old, faded scars that tell the story of a lifetime of violence.
I press my palms flat against his pectorals, feeling the heavy, thunderous pounding of his heart.
Dominic's hands move to the thin lace of my underwear. He hooks his fingers into the delicate material and pulls it down, tearing it right down the seam with a sharp ripping sound. I gasp as he tosses the ruined scraps aside.
"Spread for me, mia vita," he commands, his voice dropping into a dark, guttural register.
I obey instantly, my thighs parting wider, my heels hooking behind his hips.
He steps completely into my space. His large, calloused hand slides between my legs, his fingers finding my slick, swollen pussy.
I am already dripping for him, wet and aching.
He lets out a dark sound of approval as he coats his long fingers in my moisture, and the sharp, musky scent of my arousal fills the space between our bodies—undeniable, shameless, entirely his.
He doesn't hesitate. He presses his thumb hard against my clit, pinning the swollen nerve against my pubic bone, while simultaneously sliding two thick fingers deep inside my slick, tight channel.
My back arches right off the steel table.
A loud, shameless cry rips from my throat as he stretches me, the fullness of his thick fingers working inside me with a precise, ruthless rhythm.
He curls his fingers upward, hitting the deep, sensitive spot inside my front walls over and over again.
My hips buck helplessly against his hand, chasing the pressure.
"Dominic," I sob, my nails biting into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
"Look at me," he orders, keeping up the relentless, devastating friction between my thighs.
I force my heavy eyelids open. His dark eyes are locked onto my face, watching my pleasure with an intensity that borders on madness. He needs to see this. He needs to know he is the one dismantling me.
"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his thumb rolling hard over my clit, sending a violent shockwave of pleasure through my entire nervous system. "So responsive. You take everything I give you and ask for more."
He pulls his fingers out with a wet, heavy sound, and I whimper at the loss.
But he doesn't leave me waiting. His hands go to his belt, making quick work of the buckle.
He unzips his trousers, releasing his thick, heavy, completely engorged length.
His cock is fully engorged, pulsing with a demanding pressure.
He grips my hips with both hands, his large thumbs pressing into the soft skin of my lower stomach. He aligns the thick head of his cock at my slick, waiting pussy.
"Mine," he growls, claiming my mouth in a brutal, open-mouthed kiss.
And then he drives his hips forward, sinking into my body with a single, devastating thrust.
The stretch is immense. The thick, rigid girth of him forces my tight walls open, filling me so deeply, so completely, that I feel him everywhere at once.
My entire body tenses, a sharp intake of breath trapped in my lungs as I accommodate his massive size.
It is a feeling of absolute fullness, of heavy, visceral possession.
Dominic freezes, his chest heaving against mine, his jaw clenched as he fights to hold back. His dark eyes are blown wide, completely consumed by the sensory overload of being buried to the hilt inside my body.
"Take it," he growls, his jaw locking as he watches my walls stretch to accommodate him. "Tell me whose seed fills you. Tell me who owns every inch of you."
"Yours," I gasp, my inner walls clenching tightly around his thick shaft, drawing a guttural, tortured groan from his lips. "Only yours. Always."
He doesn't hold back anymore. Dominic withdraws his hips almost completely, the thick, blunt head dragging against my sensitive pussy, before slamming his pelvis forward, burying himself to the hilt again.
The sound of his body driving into mine fills the quiet flower shop—each impact a heavy, resonant claim that reverberates off the reinforced glass walls, raw and entirely obscene.
He sets a grueling, relentless pace. He takes me with the sheer, unfiltered intensity of a man who has lived his entire life expecting to die, and has finally found a reason to live.
His thick cock slides in and out of my slick, tight channel, creating a devastating friction that builds a knot of blinding pressure low in my belly.
Every powerful thrust rocks my entire body backward on the steel table, sending my copper hair spilling over the edge.
"Dominic, please," I beg, my hands sliding down his sweaty back to grip the firm, driving muscles of his ass, urging him deeper. "I need—I need—"
"I have you," he snarls, his face buried in my neck, his hot breath washing over my skin. He bites down hard on the tender curve where my neck meets my shoulder, marking me. "Let go for me, Sienna. Give it to me."