17. Dominic #3
We rush upstairs and dash down the hall like characters in a love story.
Inside the room, I catch her wrist and pull her to me, then press her back against the wall.
My mouth crashes into hers, desperate and hungry.
I kiss her like a man starved. My hands are greedy.
Her back arches. I lose myself in the feel of her skin, in every tight muscle that eases beneath my touch.
I want to feel everything she’s willing to give.
Her dress clings to her, like it still doesn’t want to let go.
When I pull the zipper down, she exhales in a quiet surrender.
“You don’t have to explain anything,” I murmur. “… don’t run from me anymore.”
“I’m not running,” she whispers. “I haven’t learned how to stay.”
“Then let me hold you. Until staying feels safer than running.”
I lead her to the bed. No more words. I’m too far gone for talking. The tension between us is fucking magnetic, and my skin buzzes from having her this close.
She sits, and I start ripping off my clothes. The shirt goes first, then the jeans hit the floor. Her eyes stay on me the whole time.
She doesn’t even blink. The hunger in her gaze is pure fire. She looks at me like she’s been waiting for this. Like I’m something she wants to devour. And fuck, I feel it.
I stay there, letting her look. Letting her touch. Her fingers trail down my chest, slowly, testing. When she reaches my abs, her breath hitches. She swallows. Her hand lingers a second longer than it should.
“Do you like what you see, Mrs. Monti?” I murmur, my voice low and thick with heat.
She doesn’t need to answer. Her eyes stay locked on mine, her mouth tight with anticipation. I lean in and ease her down onto the bed, hovering over her. My hands find the hem of her dress, and I start taking it off, slow but certain, like I’ve imagined doing it a hundred times.
The fabric slips from her shoulders, sliding down her chest. Her skin shivers as she tenses beneath my hands, breath quiet, like she’s afraid to move.
She’s stunning, bare, vulnerable, and still letting me in.
I unhook her lingerie, taking in every inch of her.
The warm light spills across her skin, casting soft shadows over curves I already know I’ll never get enough of.
My hands run over her chest, down her waist, then grip her hips.
I bend down, kissing her neck, her breasts, her stomach, every part of her that’s ever driven me out of my mind.
She moves beneath me, like her body’s surrendering before her words do. “I don’t know if I know how to be with someone,” she whispers, like a confession she didn’t mean to let out. I lift her chin and meet her eyes.
“Then learn with me.”
I kiss her hard, and her lips part for me instantly.
She pulls me closer, arms around my neck, holding me like she’s afraid to let go.
Her breath brushes my ear, and I’m done pretending I have any control.
We break just long enough for me to fumble the drawer open.
I reach into the drawer, grab a condom, roll it onto my hard erection, and settle between her legs. She opens for me without hesitation.
When I slide into her, it’s slow, controlled. Like I want to memorize the way she takes me in. Her warmth, her tightness, the way she gasps when I’m only halfway there, I want it seared into me.
She moans and arches her back, digging her fingers into the sheets.
Her body molds around me perfectly, like it was made for this.
For me. I take my time at first, slow, holding back.
But it doesn’t last. She’s too responsive.
Too fucking addictive. The way she gasps, the way she clenches around me, it drives everything else out of my head.
My hands explore her, feeling out every curve, every shiver, every little twitch she can’t control.
I move inside her, deeper, harder, until she gasps and digs her nails into my ass.
Her moans are ragged. Raw. And fuck, they wreck me.
I hold back, even when every nerve in my cock is begging to come.
I want this to last. I want to make her lose herself so completely, she won’t remember how to close back up.
“What do you like?” I murmur, my breath hot against her skin. “Tell me how you want it.”
She looks at me through half-lidded eyes, her voice broken and breathless.
“The way I can feel you better inside…”
That’s all I need. I ease out, my cock still hard and throbbing, and guide her gently out of bed, across the room, to the wide armchair near the window.
Moonlight spills across her skin, catching the damp shimmer on her thighs.
She’s flushed, dewy, trembling. And I want her all over again.
I turn her around and bend her over the chair, palms flat on the backrest. She exhales, slow and shaky, her back arching as her ass lifts toward me.
I run a hand slowly down her spine, my palm warm and firm. She shivers.
“Stay just like that,” I growl. “Let me look at you.”
The view nearly brings me to my knees. Her skin’s flushed, begging. My cock twitches, hard and heavy, slick at the tip with how ready I am to take her again.
I grab her hips, lean over her back, and kiss the slope of her shoulder.
“You’re fucking gorgeous like this. I wish you could see what I see.”
She lets out a quiet, desperate sound. I slide one hand between her thighs, fingers brushing her clit. She jolts. “Dominic…”
“Not yet,” I breathe out. “Not until you’re shaking.”
I stroke her slowly, circling until her knees nearly buckle. Her breath turns erratic. Her body tenses, wound tight, on the edge.
“Please…” she whispers, wrecked.
I guide the head of my cock to her entrance, and push in, slow and deep, inch by thick inch, until I’m buried inside her. She cries out, her fingers clutching the chair.
“Jesus, Lena… you’re so fucking tight. So wet. You feel like heaven.”
I stay still for a moment, letting her adjust. My hands roam over her lower back, down her hips, along her thighs.
Then I start to move, each stroke grinding into her, pulling a sound from her with every thrust. Her ass pushes back into me, our rhythm syncing.
I drive into her, hard and hungry. She’s panting now, completely lost in it.
I slide one hand around, thumb brushing her parted lips, slow and intentional.
She moans, suckles gently, her eyes fluttering shut.
I cup her jaw and hold her there, guiding her with a firm grip as I drive into her, hard and full.
My breath stutters. And fuck, I lose it.
I slam into her one last time, hips jerking forward, cock thick and pulsing, buried so deep it feels like I could lose myself completely inside her.
She meets every thrust like she wants to fuse into me, whispering my name like it’s the only word she knows. And when she tightens around me, slick, pulsing, perfect, something inside me snaps.
The orgasm rips through me without mercy.
I jerk inside her, hips locking as fire explodes through my spine, my gut, every last nerve frayed and burning.
I growl her name like it’s torn out of me, like I’m not in control of anything anymore.
Not my body, not my voice, not the way I spill inside her, over and over, until she drains the last of me.
She cries out with me, shaking, unraveling, her climax mirroring mine, raw and wrecked. When I finally pull out, I’m still panting, hands still tight on her hips, like I need her to hold me upright. She collapses over the chair, breathless, trembling, ruined.
I drop to my knees between her legs. My skin’s still burning, my heart hammering like I’ve just survived something violent and holy at the same time.
My head rests against her, arms wrapped around her hips, like I’m anchoring myself to the only thing that still makes sense.
She strokes my hair in silence. Her breathing slows.
Her heart thunders under my ear. I stay there, needing to feel her like this, unguarded, warm, like she’s finally letting me in.
And in that quiet, sweat-dampened space between us, I know this woman could ruin me. And I’d let her.
I lift her gently from the chair and carry her back to the bed. She rests her hand on my chest. Then, softly, out of nowhere, she asks, “Will you stay?”
I lay down next to her, turning my face to face her, as our eyes lock in. “All the damn time, baby. Even if you shut me out again. Even if I have to stand at your door every night. I’ll be there.”
She exhales softly. Her body melts into mine, warm and loose and perfect.
I lie there with her curled against me, her breath brushing my skin, and for the first time in a long fucking time, I feel at peace inside.
Not empty. Not numb. Like something finally clicked into place.
I always thought that kind of peace was bullshit.
People who talked about feeling whole with someone were just romanticizing their addiction. But this? This is different.
With her wrapped around me like this, her skin against mine, her heartbeat syncing with mine, I don’t feel like I need to escape anything. I don’t feel restless. I feel right. Grounded. Home. And shit, if that’s not the start of falling in love, I don’t know what is.
Only problem? I’m probably already there. With a woman who doesn’t even fully trust me yet. Who’s still learning how to stay. But I’d wait. For her? I’d fucking wait.
I brush a strand of hair from her face and stare at the ceiling, letting it sit in my chest for a second. The weight, the clarity, the terrifying truth.
“I thought maybe…” I start, voice low. “Maybe it’d be a bad idea to fall in love with you.”
She shifts slightly, not pulling away. “And?”
I glance at her. Her eyes are open now, watching me, waiting. “I dropped the ‘bad’ part.”