Chapter 10
Dominic
Istare at the bag of food Emily sets on the table before she places a small bowl of ice cream with colourful sprinkles scattered on top in front of Lil’ Peach.
“We had some leftover lasagne and boscaiola in the fridge out back from lunch,” she says as her pretty blue eyes meet mine. “It’s only going to get wasted, so I thought you might want it.”
I nod once, taken aback by her gesture as I lift the small spoon and offer Peach a scoop of ice cream. The way her tiny lips part to take in whatever I give her makes my chest ache with something warm. This little girl trusts me without question.
“Thanks,” I grumble, trying to ignore the quiet thrill that comes from Emily taking care of me. It’s not something I’m used to, and I’m not sure I know what to do with it.
A soft smile curves her mouth, and when my attention is drawn back to the cut on her bottom lip, the rage I’ve been fighting to keep at bay since I first entered this place rushes back to the surface.
I don’t even know what drew me here tonight, because I’ve been trying to stay away. Maybe I was meant to come here for this very reason.
Setting the spoon down beside the bowl, I reach into my jeans pocket. My fingers brush against her caramel-scented Chapstick before finding the crumpled receipt from when I filled up the car on the way here.
“You got a pen I could borrow?” I ask, flattening the piece of paper against the wooden tabletop.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into the front pocket of her apron and pulling out a black plastic pen.
I scribble my number on the receipt, fold it in half, and hand it back to her along with the pen. “My number … in case you ever need it.”
A pink blush crawls up her neck as she nervously shifts from foot to foot. “Oh … I, umm … have a boyfriend.”
I clear my throat and reach for the spoon again, forcing myself not to react. “I’m not asking you on a date, Emily,” I growl. “But if someone’s hurting you, and you want it to stop, call me.”
Emily stills, her usual spark dimming for a second as she gives a small, almost reluctant nod.
I’m currently lying in bed with my hands folded behind my head, staring up at the ceiling, because I can’t fucking sleep. I feel like an idiot for giving Emily my number. There was no way I was going to tell her I had flashbacks of my mother lying facedown in the pool when I saw the cut on her lip.
Part of me wondered if she’d get the wrong idea, but my conscience—what little I have—wouldn’t let me leave that restaurant without giving it to her just in case.
I’ve seen that dick on the bike pick her up from work, and now that she’s confirmed she has a boyfriend, I can only assume he’s the one who’s leaving marks on her. Because if it’s not him, why the fuck isn’t he putting a stop to it?
I blindly reach for my bedside table, feeling around for that plastic little cylinder that seems to go with me everywhere these days.
My fingers close around it as a quiet breath slips past my lips.
It’s Emily’s Chapstick, the one she dropped at the restaurant months ago.
I told myself I’d give it back, but I never did.
I turn the Chapstick over in my hand as my thumb traces the faded label and the small crack in the cap. For a second, I almost feel guilty, like she might know I have it. But there’s something about this stupid thing that anchors me when my dark parts won’t seem to calm.
I pop the lid off and bring it to my nose before I can talk myself out of it. The scent pulls at something in my chest that I don’t have words for. I let my mind wander—just for a heartbeat—wondering if those pillowy fucking lips of hers taste the same, and if that sweetness would linger.
That thought has my cock hardening in my boxers. I reach down and give my dick an angry squeeze. It feels sick and depraved fantasising about another man’s woman, even if that fucker doesn’t deserve her.
No matter how hard I try to will my cock to go down, nothing works. It throbs … it aches. Jesus, I need to get laid. This woman is sending me around the bend.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been with anyone, but that’s by choice. I knew what I was signing up for when I took this on. There’s no chance I’m giving up a night with my niece for some random hookup.
I cap the Chapstick and drop it back onto the bedside table before tossing back the covers in frustration. If I have any chance of getting sleep tonight, I’m going to need to get rid of this boner first.
Slipping into the bathroom, I lock the door behind me and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and tug them down my legs.
I lean in the shower recess, switch the water to hot, and step inside, letting the spray run over my body as I prepare myself for an unapologetic, no-holds-barred jerkoff.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time Emily and I have showered together, well, in my mind anyway, and believe me when I say I know how fucked up that sounds.
She’s frequently bathed with me since this stupid obsession started, and I’m going to blame it on my dry spell, but deep down, I know that’s a lie.
I don’t even know what it is about this woman that draws me in. I was around beauties all the time when I worked at the club, but nobody has ever captured my attention like Emily has.
As the steam fills the room, I wrap my hand tightly around the base of my cock. Images of Emily’s perfect lace-covered tits in that sexy white bra I got a small glimpse of tonight when she bent over to pick up a crayon Peach dropped on the floor, enters my mind.
I pump some body wash into my hand and clench my eyes closed with a groan as I start to move my hand up and down my dick in short, languid strokes.
Her beautiful blue eyes lock on mine while I imagine her freeing those golden locks of long hair from the confines of her bun before dropping her hand to unclasp her bra, releasing her perky breasts from their lacy prison.
She grins up at me, with that same soft smile that gets me every-fucking-time. It’s a look that calls to something deep inside. It makes me want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from all the ugliness in the world.
Her fingers slip underneath the straps of her bra as she seductively moves each one down her arm until it falls from her body and drops to the floor by her feet, an exotic striptease at its finest.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and my movements quicken as her pretty blue eyes fixate on me from beneath her long, inky lashes. I could seriously drown in those orbs.
I tilt my head back and release a long growl when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down.
Her hands move up to cup her spectacular tits, pinching her hard pink nipples between her forefingers and thumbs before moaning. My balls instantly draw up. Even in my imagination, this woman steals every ounce of my self-control
“Fuck, yes, Em,” I audibly groan.
“Dom,” she breathes out in reply.
I watch as her back arches and her face tilts towards the ceiling. I almost lose my load when a perfect little O forms on her luscious lips. Lips I’d love to feel wrapped around my cock someday.
My blood runs hot as I stroke my shaft up and down, all the while imagining that I’m now fucking her tits. I rest a flattened palm against the tiles to stabilise myself, and let out a shaky breath when she pushes the soft flesh together with her hands, creating a perfect warm haven for my dick.
Moments later, she drops one of her arms, and she whimpers as the tips of her delicate fingers move to circle her clit. The list of things I want to do to this woman in the flesh is endless. I crave her like I’ve never craved anything in my life. She has me bewitched.
What gets me off, more than anything, is witnessing her coming undone. My body shudders at the thought.
I’m pumping my cock at a frenzied pace now as her moans echo around the room, bringing her closer to the edge. What I wouldn’t give to see her masturbate like this in real life. Just imagining it sends tingles coursing down my spine.
“I’m coming, Dominic,” she cries. “I’m coming so hard for you.”
I’m right there with her. My fist is flying now, and a wild, uninhibited roar rips from deep in my throat as we come together.
I’m breathless as I rest my forehead against the tiles and let the shame consume me for what I just did. I’ve done some pretty unspeakable things in my life, and this is just something else I can add to the very long list.
Even as guilt claws at my gut, there’s a part of me that feels eerily alive. It’s like this woman is unknowingly breathing life into a part of me that has lain dormant for far too long. That terrifies me more than the shame ever could.
I chug down the glass of water in my hand before placing it back in the sink and roll my shoulders trying to uncoil the tension in my muscles. My release did nothing to quench my thirst for that damn woman; if anything, it only soured my mood further.
Hopefully, Dante will have a job for me to do tomorrow so I can find another outlet to release all this pent-up frustration.
I head towards Peach’s room on the way back to mine, sticking my head inside the door to check on her. I see her teddy has fallen onto the floor, so I walk quietly towards her cot, scoop it up, and lay it back beside her.
My heart clenches in my chest as I stare down at her sweet face. I don’t deserve something as precious as her, but I’m so grateful I get to call her mine. I hope she won’t grow up to be as emotionally stunted as I am, with only my guidance. Mrs B is a soft touch in her life, but is that enough?
Sometimes I think I did Peach an injustice by taking her on, but there was no guarantee she would’ve had a better life if she ended up somewhere else.
That little girl is loved beyond measure and wants for nothing, but I can’t help thinking that a mother figure in her life—just not the one she has—could make all the difference.
I’m not about to run off and find myself a bride to test that theory, though. Fuck that. Besides, the only woman I’m currently interested in isn’t up for grabs.
I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips as I watch the pink pacifier move softly in Peach’s mouth. It shifts with the slow rhythm of her breathing, the faintest suckling motion that makes her cheeks dimple before relaxing again. She’s such a cute kid, and in some ways, softens my hard edges.
My eyelids feel heavy by the time I head back to my room and slide under the covers.
I’m sinking, the edge of sleep pulling me under, when an ear-piercing scream has me bolting upright.
My heart pounds against my ribcage as I glance around in the dark, trying to make sense of what just happened. I suck in a breath and hold it, listening.
I hear nothing, just the low hum of crickets outside. My heart begins to slow, and I tell myself maybe it was just a nightmare. Then the front door slams, rattling through the quiet house. I scramble onto my knees and crawl to the window.
By the time I glance outside, Dad is slipping behind the wheel of his car in the driveway. The engine growls, tyres squeal, and headlights flash across the yard.
When he disappears into the darkness, everything goes quiet.
My hands shake as I push off the windowsill. My gut twists because I know something is wrong.
I climb off the bed and pad down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under my feet. I reach my sister’s room and crack the door open. The nightlight beside Violet’s cot lets me see her still fast asleep, oblivious to what I’ve just heard and witnessed.
“Mummy?” I call out, but when I get no answer, panic slams through me as I rush through the house. Her bedroom is empty, so is the main room and the kitchen.
“Mum!” I call again, and that’s when I see the sliding glass door wide open. It’s the middle of the night, and I know she religiously makes sure the house is locked up tight before she goes to bed.
I slowly move towards it as a sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. The patio lights are off, but the pool glows faintly in the moonlight, the surface rippling with the breeze.
I take a tentative step outside, the concrete cold under my bare feet. And then I see it. At first, I think the shape floating in the pool is a trick of the light, but it’s not.
“Mum?”
My feet move before I can think. My first step into the water shocks me, the cold biting hard enough to steal my breath. I push further in, descending the stairs one at a time. My hands are shaking, and my chest is heaving like I can’t drag in enough air.
As I get closer, I see the water lapping softly at her shoulders, her hair fanning out around her like dark silk, and my breath catches in my throat.
When I reach her, I grab the fabric of her white nightgown. “Mum,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
I pull her towards me and somehow manage to turn her over, and the moment I do, the world stops.
Her eyes are open, wide and terrified.
The cut on her lip is still there, the same one that never fades in my dreams, but in a blink, it all changes.
The hair that should be dark is now pale and gold, floating like ribbons across the water. The eyes that should be brown are now blue, too bright, too wrong. The face staring up at me isn’t Mum’s, it’s Emily’s.
The weight on my chest intensifies, and the water feels heavier now, like it’s dragging me down with her.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t look away.
I failed again.
I wasn’t able to save her either.
“Emily!” I scream. “Emmm!”