Elena #3
I watch my own mouth open in the mirror. Dominic holds still, his jaw tight while my body adjusts around him.
“Tell me.”
Every muscle in my body is clenched around him, waiting. “Move.”
He draws back and thrusts into me again. The angle is deeper, filling me so completely that my arms shake.
Dominic begins with the control he promised, each stroke deliberate while he watches my face. I push back to meet him and demand more with every movement.
“Harder.”
His eyes darken. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I want all of you.”
He gives it to me.
His hips drive forward with enough force to shift me across the bedding. Pleasure builds fast, sharpened by the mirror and every low sound that escapes him.
“Watch,” he orders. “Watch how fucking beautiful you are taking me.”
I hold his gaze in the glass as he fucks me. One hand remains possessively over my stomach while the other reaches between my thighs and circles my clit.
“You’re mine,” he says. “Because you chose me.”
“And you’re mine.”
“Say my name.”
“Dominic.”
His control frays visibly. His thrusts turn rougher, his breathing uneven as my body grips him.
“Again.”
“Dominic.” I push back harder. “I love you.”
His mouth parts, and his hips stutter once.
“I love you. I love this body. I love the life inside it. I love every version of you that brought you to me.”
He claims my past, my fear, every piece I thought I had to hide, and the acceptance is what finally breaks me.
His fingers press harder against my clit.
“Come for me,” he says. “Let me watch you take everything you asked for.”
I watch my own mouth open around his name as I come, my pussy clenching around his cock.
My body tightens around him, and his rhythm breaks. Dominic drives into me twice more with a hoarse groan, then buries himself deep as his body shudders against mine.
I watch his eyes close and his mouth form my name. The most controlled man I know loses himself in me.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
Then Dominic eases out of me and gathers me against his chest. He carries me higher on the bed, pulls me into his arms, and rests his hand over my stomach.
“Was that enough evidence?” he asks, still breathing hard.
I press my lips over his heartbeat. “I may require ongoing verification.”
His laugh moves beneath my cheek.
“As often as you ask.”
Asking for him doesn’t weaken me.
It gives him a way to come closer.
Rain streaks the windows while Dominic and I eat Thai food on the couch three nights later.
His phone vibrates on the coffee table during dinner. He glances at the screen, silences it, and sets it face down.
A minute later, it vibrates again.
“You can answer that,” I say, the words a test I don’t mean to give. A part of me waits for the inevitable moment work pulls him away.
“I can.”
He keeps eating.
The third call earns a sigh. Dominic picks up the phone and holds the side button until the screen goes dark.
“Did you just turn it off?”
“Yes.”
“What if Rowe Holdings collapses?”
“Evan will call the landline.”
“You have a landline?”
“No.”
I laugh, and Dominic reaches over to steal a piece of tofu from my container.
“Thief.”
“You’re carrying my child. I’m entitled to one bite.”
“That isn’t a legal principle.”
“It is in this apartment.”
I try to take it back, but he catches my wrist and kisses my palm before releasing me.
The gesture is so easy that it barely interrupts the meal.
Those are the moments that reach me now.
Dominic refills my water without asking. He keeps crackers in his desk because I mentioned feeling nauseated once. He reads the pregnancy books after I fall asleep and leaves questions in the margins for the doctor. He still asks what I want, even when he thinks he knows the answer.
For years, I treated safety as something I could build through enough planning. Every variable needed a contingency, and every relationship required an exit. I believed preparation could prevent pain if I stayed ready to leave first.
Dominic gives me something steadier.
I see it in the ordinary choices he makes every day.
He clears the empty containers from the coffee table, then returns to the couch and pulls my feet into his lap. The rain falls harder, tapping steadily against the glass.
“Come here,” he says.
I settle beside him, resting my head against his chest. He drapes a blanket over us and settles one hand across my stomach.
There is no visible curve yet, but his thumb moves over me with quiet affection.
“Do you think the baby can hear the rain?” I ask.
“According to page seventy-three, hearing develops later.”
“Of course you know the page.”
“I took notes.” His answer is so completely, reassuringly Dominic that I have to smile.
I smile against his shirt.
His heartbeat stays slow beneath my cheek. He doesn’t reach for the phone he turned off. He doesn’t shift as my body grows heavier against him. He simply holds me while rain surrounds the apartment and the evening becomes quiet.
My eyes close.
For once, I don’t lie awake preparing for the day he might leave.
The weight of Dominic’s hand stays warm over the life we made, a steady, solid presence.
My body finally uncoils, letting me fall asleep because Dominic stayed.