Carter #4
The pace becomes frantic, a desperate search for the breaking point.
His breath is hot against my neck, his teeth grazing my now too sensitive skin.
When the release finally hits, it’s a violent, bone-deep shudder that leaves me clinging to his shoulders, my breath hitching in broken, rhythmic sobs I refuse to let turn into his name.
He lets out a low, guttural snarl, his body tightening into iron as he pulls back at the very last second.
I feel the hot, heavy evidence of his undoing hit the floor between us—a reckless, frantic waste of the control he usually prizes so much.
He remains there, his forehead braced against mine and his weight still pinning me to the wood, chest heaving as we both struggle to remember how to breathe in an atmosphere that suddenly feels too thin.
The silence that follows is heavy and slick with sweat, broken only by the distant, muted bass line that feels like a reminder of everything outside this room.
Thump-thump-thump. Footsteps.
"Yo, Dom!" Luka’s voice rings out, bright and cheerful. "You in there, or did you finally bore yourself to sleep?"
The sound of his footsteps approaching closer shatters the haze like glass hitting tile.
I scramble for what to do, but Dominic is faster.
Before I can even find my feet, his hand is a heavy weight on my shoulder, steering me wordlessly into the narrow space behind the door.
He doesn't say a word, his features going still with unsettling calculation. He steps into the gap, his wide shoulders erasing me from the hallway’s line of sight while his other hand blindly fumbles with tucking himself back into his jeans.
He cracks the door just an inch, his weight a barricade against the wood. "What do you want?"
His voice is terrifyingly steady. If I didn't feel the tension still vibrating beneath his skin, I wouldn't believe he’d been touched at all.
"Nice to see you too. Real hospitable," Luka scoffs from the hallway. "Have you seen Carter? I went by the pool house, but she didn't answer."
Something sharp pulls through Dominic’s cheek, a tiny muscle jumping near his ear. "Why would I care where she is? I’m not her keeper."
"Clearly." I watch through the crack as Luka’s eyes drop, snagging on the wreckage: the half-unbuttoned fly, the disheveled shirt, the mussed hair. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face. "Never mind. I get it. Didn't realize you were... busy."
"Go away, Luka," Dominic grunts.
"Hey, don't let me stop the fun. But remember we leave at six a.m. sharp tomorrow," Luka says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll leave you to your 'privacy.'"
Dominic waits until the floor stops groaning under Luka's weight before he finally clicks the door shut. The guy who just had me pinned against the wood is gone. He turns around, and the wall is back up—higher and colder than before. He looks at me with a flick of his eyes that is almost cruel.
"You should probably use the back stairs," he says, his voice flat, devoid of the gravelly hunger from moments ago. "Unless you want to give him a second show."
The dismissal is a sharp slap, but I refuse to flinch. I resmooth my skirt, my movements icy despite the fact that my knees are still vibrating.
Disgust should be the only thing I feel. I should be dwelling on his arrogance, his need for control, or the simple fact that the sound of his breathing still grates on my nerves. But as I look at him, logic loses ground to a hot, prickly wave of shame.
The truth is, I’m no better than the females downstairs.
I’m just another person who let him press her against a door simply because he looked good in a dark shirt.
Having judged them for a lack of substance, I now find myself shaking in the aftermath of a someone who won't even look me in the eye now that he’s had his "taste. "
I meet his gaze with a sharp, toxic smile, hiding the fact that I feel like a total loss.
"Don't worry, Valerio," I say, my voice steady even if my blood is still screaming. "I’ve had enough of this 'scenery' to last me the rest of my life."
I don't wait for a rebuttal. I walk past him, out the door, and into the hallway. I don’t look back. I just head for the stairs, my skin still humming from his touch, trying to outrun the bone-deep reckoning that’s already gaining on me.
I’m halfway down the stairs before the sterile air of the mansion hits me.
The reality of how my evening swerved completely off course doesn't just settle; it crushes. I had built my entire reputation on being the one person he couldn't break—the one who saw the facade behind the talent and refused to bow to it. Yet, in one breath, I’d traded that leverage for the pressure of his hands against a door. I’d fought for the lead, only to drive myself right off the track.
Fuck. I wasn't supposed to be part of the wreckage. I was the one too smart to get caught in the engine. Instead, I’ve crossed a line I can’t uncross—and the most devastating part is I knew exactly what I was doing.
I’d just created a problem I didn’t know how to fix—and the worst part was, deep down, I was already wondering how long it would take to feel it again.