Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Dominic
I wake to her scent surrounding me, our limbs tangled together in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
Her ass presses against my cock, which is already rock hard.
My hand rests on her stomach, rising and falling with each of her gentle breaths.
I bring it up slowly, cupping her breast, feeling its perfect weight as I grind myself against her.
She lets out a little whimper in her sleep, arching into me unconsciously. I tug lightly on her nipple, feeling it harden between my fingers. She presses back further, fitting herself against me like she was made to be there.
I slide my hand down her body, mapping every curve before slipping beneath the edge of her panties. She's already wet, ready for me even in sleep. I sink two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around me.
"Mmm," she moans, turning onto her back. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and heavy-lidded with sleep and desire.
"Good morning," she breathes, her voice still rough with sleep.
"Good morning," I reply, thrusting my fingers into her again, watching her back arch slightly off the bed.
"I like waking up to you," I tell her, meaning every word. The morning light catches the gold in her green eyes, making them shine.
"I like it too," she says, her lips curving into a smile that does dangerous things to my chest.
I remove my fingers and bring them to her mouth. She opens automatically, sucking them in, her tongue swirling around them as she tastes herself. Her eyes never leave mine.
"Fuck, I need to be inside you," I growl, my control slipping at the sight of her lips wrapped around my fingers.
She slides her panties off in one fluid motion, then spreads her legs for me. "Then get inside me," she says, her boldness surprising and arousing me further.
"Fucking Christ," I groan, kissing her hard as I roll on top of her, settling between her spread thighs. She kisses me with the same hunger, her hands tangling in my hair.
I position myself at her opening but wait, savoring the moment. I know when I thrust into her, she'll tear her mouth away from mine, and I'm not ready to lose this contact, the taste of her lips, the slide of her tongue against mine.
She bites my bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth, and I growl low in my throat. This girl is destroying me.
"Please, Dominic," she whispers when she lets go, her eyes wide and pleading.
"I'll give you anything you want," I promise, thrusting into her fully in one smooth stroke.
She gasps, arching her back, her body accepting me perfectly. I pull out to the tip and thrust back in, watching her face contort in pleasure.
"Fuck," she moans, her hand finding its way back into my hair, tugging lightly.
"You feel perfect, baby," I tell her as I thrust in again, establishing a steady rhythm.
She pulls my face down to hers and kisses me again, deep and hungry. I swallow her moans, savoring each one. I want to wake up to this every morning—her body under mine, her taste on my tongue, her scent all around me.
I pick up my pace, pounding into her harder, driven by the sounds she makes. I move my arm under her leg, pushing it up higher, changing the angle. When I bottom out the next time, she cries out.
"Oh god, right there," she moans, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I hit that spot again and again, each thrust pulling louder moans from her.
"So good," she breathes.
Thrust.
"Don't stop."
Thrust.
"So close," she moans, her walls beginning to flutter around me.
I growl, feeling my own control slipping. "You take me so good."
She whimpers, her body tensing beneath mine.
"Now be a good girl and come on my cock," I command, thrusting harder, hitting that perfect spot inside her relentlessly.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants as she falls apart, her pussy clamping down on me like a vice, milking me.
"Fuck, baby, that's it," I groan, picking up my pace. I'm losing control now, chasing my own release.
"Fuck, Skye," I groan as I come inside her, spilling every drop of my release. Her nails rake down my back, and the sharp pain makes my orgasm even more intense.
When I'm finally spent, I look down at her—so innocent, so perfect beneath me. I take her lips again, kissing her deeply, trying to convey everything I don't have words for yet.
I hold her for a few minutes, our breathing slowing together, her body melting into mine. Eventually, I roll off her onto my back, staring up at the ceiling with a satisfaction I haven't felt in years.
"Go to your room, change into a bathing suit with something over it, and then grab what you need for sketching and meet me out back," I tell her, turning my head to watch her reaction.
She props herself up on one elbow, hair deliciously mussed from our morning activities. "What are we doing?"
"It's a surprise," I say, enjoying the curiosity flickering across her face.
Her expression shifts to concern. "What about Harper?"
"Well, she was drinking last night, right?" I ask gently.
Skye looks torn, her loyalty to Harper battling with her honesty with me. Her internal struggle plays across her face.
"It's okay. I know Harper drinks—she's an adult. I won't ever ask you anything that would put you in a situation to choose," I tell her, wanting to ease her discomfort.
Relief washes over her face. "Thanks. Yeah, she was drinking."
"Then she'll sleep in, so we have time."
"Okay, let me go to the bathroom and I'll get ready." She reaches down into the covers, then pulls her panties out with a triumphant smile. In a move that makes my cock stir again, she jumps up, standing on the bed and steps right over me to get to the edge.
"Fuck, Skye," I growl as she steps down onto the floor and looks back at me with a flirty smile that hits me right in the chest.
"You better run before I pull you back into bed and fuck you again instead of doing anything else," I warn, only half-joking.
She squeals and runs off to the bathroom, the sound of her laughter trailing behind her. While she's in there, I grab my swim shorts out of my drawer and pull them on, mind already racing ahead to what I want to show her.
She walks out of the bathroom and around the bed, grabbing her dress from last night off the floor. As she heads toward the door, I can't resist stopping her, pulling her against me and kissing her again.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night," I tell her when we break apart, remembering how I'd planned to wait up on her but passed out.
"It's okay. We were pretty late," she says, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. "Plus, you snuggled me really good."
"I did, huh?" I ask, fighting a smile.
"Yep," she confirms with a nod.
"Good." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "I want you sleeping in my bed every night, okay?"
Her eyes widen slightly. "You sure? It's risky."
"I'm sure that I don't want to be in that bed without you," I tell her, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "So please sleep with me. If you're scared, I'll come to your room."
"I'll come to you," she says softly, and I kiss her again, deeper this time.
When I pull back, I can't resist smacking her ass. "Now go get ready."
"Yes, sir," she says with a smirk, and my dick twitches at those two little words.
She sneaks out, and I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth before going downstairs. I go to the garage first and grab the waterproof backpack, then put some waters in one compartment before heading outside.
When she walks out with a sketchbook and a pouch that I'm assuming holds pencils, I open the other side of the bag and take them from her, adding them and zipping it up.
"It's waterproof," I explain, throwing the bag over one shoulder and grabbing her hand, pulling her toward the stairs that lead down to the beach.
"What are we doing?" she asks again, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her.
"It's a surprise," I say with a smile, enjoying her anticipation.
I lead her to the dock and help her down onto a jet ski, then get on behind her.
She's wearing a blue bikini top I haven't seen before and a pair of cut-off shorts, her hair twisted into a cute bun on top of her head.
The sight of her bare shoulders and the curve of her neck makes me want to forget our plans and take her back to bed.
"You ready?" I ask, my voice rougher than intended.
"I think so," she says with a nervous smile, and I chuckle.
"I promise you'll like it," I say, turning the engine on. I slide one arm around her waist, pulling her close against my chest. The feel of her body against mine, the scent of her hair—it's intoxicating. Using my free arm to control the jet ski, I take off.
The water sprays around us as we cut through the waves. I feel her tense at first, then gradually relax into me, her body moving with mine as we navigate the ocean. Her laughter carries back to me each time we hit a wave, the sound freer and lighter than I've ever heard from her.
I guide us toward a small, secluded cave about fifteen minutes from my property—a hidden gem most tourists never discover. The water here is crystal clear, revealing colorful fish darting beneath us as we approach the opening.
I guide us toward the entrance of the cave, slowing as the water gets shallower.
The jet ski motor echoes against the stone walls as we enter, the sound bouncing around us.
Inside, the light filters through in ethereal blue rays, illuminating the space in a way that makes it seem almost magical.
When we reach a small sandy area, I cut the engine.
"Hold this," I say, handing her the backpack. I hop into the knee-deep water, my feet sinking slightly into the sand. I grab the front of the jet ski and pull it toward the small beach inside the cave, securing it where the water meets the sand. Then I turn back and offer my hand to help her off.
She takes it, carefully stepping into the water. Her eyes widen as she takes in the full beauty of the cave—the way light plays on the water, reflecting patterns on the stone walls, the perfect acoustics making even our breathing sound musical.
"This is beautiful," she breathes, turning in a slow circle to take everything in.
"I thought you could draw it," I say, enjoying the wonder on her face.
"Really?" she asks, excitement lighting up her features.
"Yeah, you mentioned it before," I say with a shrug that belies how much I've been thinking about this, planning it. "Where do you want to sit for the best view?"
She looks around thoughtfully, walking over to one side of the small beach and then the other, considering angles and light with an artist's eye I find fascinating.
"Here," she finally decides, sitting down and opening the bag to retrieve her sketchbook. She looks up at me uncertainly. "What are you going to do? It's going to be boring."
I sit down behind her, positioning her between my legs, her back almost touching my chest. "I'm going to watch you," I tell her simply.
"Are you sure?" she asks, doubt creeping into her voice.
"I'm sure." I place a hand on her shoulder briefly. "You're my favorite view." Then I lean back on my elbows, giving her space to work.
"Thank you," she says softly, opening her sketchbook.
"My pleasure."
She falls into a rhythm quickly, her pencil moving across the page with surprising confidence. After about twenty minutes, she breaks the comfortable silence between us.
"Okay, I have a rough outline. We can go if you want, and I can add the color at home," she offers, glancing back at me.
I sit up to look at her paper, impressed by how quickly she's captured the essence of the cave. "No, we can stay as long as it takes. I don't have any plans today. Do you?"
"No," she admits, "but I feel bad. It has to be boring."
"It's not," I assure her. "I just like being with you, so just do your thing and don't worry about me."
"Okay," she says, and opens her pouch, revealing an array of regular and colored pencils.
I rest my chin on her shoulder as she begins adding color to the paper.
Her concentration is absolute, and I find myself mesmerized by the small movements of her hand, the way she bites her lip when focusing on a difficult section.
Every once in a while, I press my lips to her shoulder, trailing kisses down to where it meets her arm, feeling her tremble slightly at the contact.
Then I lay back down, giving her the space to create without distraction.
Time loses meaning as I watch clouds drift across the slice of sky visible through the cave entrance. The sound of waves gently lapping against the shore and her pencil scratching against paper creates a peaceful soundtrack.
"I'm done," she announces suddenly. I realize an hour or two must have passed, though I've completely lost track.
I sit up. "Let me see."
She hands me the book, and I take in every detail—the perfect capturing of light and shadow, the delicate colors she's chosen that somehow make the cave look even more magical than it does in reality.
"This is amazing," I say, genuinely impressed.
"Thanks," she says, turning around to face me fully.
"Can I?" I ask, motioning to the rest of the sketchbook, curious what other talents she's been hiding.
"Yeah," she agrees, and I flip through the pages, taking in one drawing after another. Landscapes, portraits, abstract designs—each reveals a different facet of her artistic skill.
"Wow... these are really good," I say, surprised by the depth and quality. "I didn't know you were this good."
I flip to the next page and freeze. The drawing is unmistakably me—standing in my kitchen wearing only sweatpants, muscles defined, face relaxed in a way I rarely see myself.
"No, don't look!" she cries, reaching for the book, but I hold it up out of her reach.
"Holy shit, is this me?" I ask, though there's no question. The detail is stunning.
She buries her head in her hands. "Yes," she groans, clearly embarrassed.
I pull the book back down, studying the drawing more carefully. The perspective, the shading, the attention to detail—it's remarkable. But what strikes me most is how she's seen me. There's something in the eyes she's drawn, something I barely recognize in myself.
"When did you do this?" I ask, genuinely curious.
She takes a deep breath and looks up at me. "You remember the night you caught me in the kitchen doing the dishes?" she asks hesitantly.
I think back to that night—it was her first or second night in my home. The night she'd made me a plate of food. Later when I came down for water, I found her washing dishes. Has she been struggling with her feelings for me as long as I've been fighting mine for her?
"I love it," I say softly, running my finger along the edge of the paper.