Dominique's Release: A Captive Souls story

by Kimberly Kaye Terry

  The book began to glow as she held it and the pages warmed to her touch, reminding her of the power she felt when she and her mother joined hands around the charm. Yet, despite the fear beating at her, she pushed it to the side and continued to scan the words, the script becoming legible to her.

  Dominique clumsily mouthed the words, unfamiliar words that she didn’t know the meaning of, yet as she haltingly spoke them, a dormant recognition raised from her subconscious.

  A glowing, hazy smoke surrounded the book. She coughed from instinct rather than need; the smoke had no substance beyond the visual. Afraid, Dominique shoved the book from her lap, to no avail.

  The cloud left the vicinity of the book and went to the middle of the room. Her eyes rounded, her heart now racing so wildly she feared it would leap from her chest.

  From the mist an outline formed, growing larger and gaining substance. She stumbled, falling to the floor and scrambling back. Dominique frantically scooted her body along the hardwood floor, far away from the shadow, grasping at the necklace

  “Shit!” she cursed.

  So mesmerized by what was transpiring, she was unable to force herself to look away—even as she knew she needed to run like hell in the complete and opposite direction from whatever was forming from the pages of that book.

  But like a deer caught in headlights, she was frozen where she crouched on the floor, her mouth open, her eyes perfect rings as one minute there was a dark column of smoke and the next a man…a very large, very angry, very naked man, standing in front of her.

  It was him. The man from her dreams.

  And he was coming for her, forcing her to admit that what had happened the day before had not been some crazy, wild dream.

  Once fully formed he zeroed in on her, the expression on his chiseled, beautiful face set, angry, as he advanced on her.

  She remained where she was and stared up…way, way up, at what had to be nearly seven feet of hard-muscled, golden-colored man glaring down at her. She swallowed.

  Her eyes slowly met his dark, fathomless ones.

  “I knew you would come back to me, Dominique.” Although he spoke quietly, there was a subtle hint of menace in his tone.

  Again, she reached for the missing amulet before cursing her stupidity and, as though not to alert him to what she was doing, she began to slowly inch her body backward.

  His dark eyes followed the movement of her hand reaching for her charm as she moved, a knowing smile lifting a corner of his mouth, a low laugh tumbling from his sensual mouth.

  “There’s nowhere to run, Dominique.”

  Before she could gather her wits and jump up, spin around and do exactly that, he was on her.

  He lifted her and, with her bundled in his arms, strode toward the bed in the center of the room.

  He held her easily as though her weight and height were nothing to him. Which for him, it wasn’t, Dominique thought, her gaze going over his chest. Before she could stop herself, she reached a hand out and ran it over the dark sprinkling of hair that covered the dense muscles of his chest.

  He laid her down in the center of the bed and licked the side of her neck, before grazing his teeth back and forth against the hollow of her throat.

  “There is nowhere to hide.” The coarse whisper was delivered in a deep, rumbling baritone against her skin.

  Despite her fear, Dominique’s body arched against his and a cry of longing strangled her throat where her pulse beat a staccato rhythm against his mouth.

  One of his big hands trailed up her thigh, beneath her T-shirt. The heat from his hand made the very air in the room grow thicker, musty, reminding Dominique of how the air had changed as she approached the mansion.

  He thumbed the hem of her T-shirt up, exposing her further to his roaming hands.

  “Give in to me.”

  He wrapped her hair around his hand, winding the strands around his fist, and pulled her head back so she was forced to look at him.

  The intensity of his stare forced out the moan embedded deep in her throat.

  His eyes were dark, so dark they appeared black, yet his irises were rimmed with a thin circle of gold, the strange look reinforcing to her that he was no ordinary man.

  Despite the lust and fear slamming into her in contradictory waves, the absurdity that she could even entertain the idea that this…whatever he was…was a human male, almost made her laugh.

  Almost.

  “Give in,” he demanded again, his eyes focused on her lips. In his gaze she saw the clarity of his intent.

  He wanted to do carnal things with her mouth.

  Nervous, afraid, she licked her lips. He leaned down, captured her tongue with his and brought her tongue deep into his mouth.

  She pushed against his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away, yet knew she wanted him, illogically…desperately wanted him.

  He pulled his mouth from hers, leaving her gasping for air. Keeping eye contact with her, he grasped her by both wrists and pinned her arms high above her head, forcing her breasts to press tightly together. Her nipples tightened into painful, achy little buds as they brushed against the hard wall of his chest.

  He brought his face close to hers, so close Dominique clearly saw his eyes darken to jet black, filled with lust.

  The heady smell of the witch’s arousal assaulted Bacclum’s senses and made his dick harden to granite.

  Yet he knew he had to go carefully with her. He had to ease past her defenses in order to fully seduce both mind and body, and break past her shields.

  She was the key to his freedom.

  He stripped her shirt from her body, drawing it over her head, and tossed it to the floor, and quickly removed her panties from her body with one easy pull, leaving her bare, naked to his gaze.

  He sat away from her, on the edge of the bed, and ran his eyes over her body, drawing his gaze from the tips of her pink, coral-tinted toenails, up the long length of sweet, light brown legs, over the small, curly thatch of hair at the V of her legs…over her belly, flat, feminine yet muscled, to her small, firm round breasts. Her nipples were much darker than her caramel-colored skin, plump, sharply protruded and begging for his touch. His mouth.

  Keeping his gaze on hers, he leaned down and captured one of the fat buds. He drew it deeply into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it before clamping down with enough bite that her back arched high off the bed in response, pressing her breast even further into his mouth.

  Bacclum released her wrists, trailed his hand down her body and brought his body down, until he was lying down parallel to her on the bed. He drew her nearer, his hands grasping the rounded, firm globes of her buttocks, bringing her into tight alignment with his shaft, his mouth never losing contact with her breasts.

  He tugged gently on her nipples, forcing mewling cries from her before finally releasing the blood-filled, tight nubbins. Cupping her small, firm breast with one hand, he trailed his tongue around the plump underside and licked a path between the valley of her breasts, up her throat, her clavicle, before retracing his path, past the hollow of her throat, her chin, leaving a wet, warm path, until he reached her mouth and slowly, slowly ran his tongue over her partially opened, full lips.

  She moaned, her head falling to the side, her breath coming out in hitched puffs of air.

  He swallowed the victorious smile when, of her own volition, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, bringing him back down to her so that he draped her body with his own.

  Chapter Five

  Instead of resisting him, caught up in the sheer eroticism of the moment, Dominique embraced it, him…what they were doing to each other, the way she was helpless to do anything else but embrace it. Glory in it.

  As he kissed and stroked her mouth, his hands roaming her body, playing with her breasts and nipples, Dominique rotated her hips against the thick, hot ridge centered directly between her thighs.

  When he grasped her by the hips and ground her pussy directly against h
is dick, Dominique pulled her mouth away from his and moaned harshly. The hot feel and unyielding hardness grinding so sharply against her clit forced a nearly painful gasp from her and brought Dominique out of the sexual haze surrounding her.

  What in the hell am I doing? Dominique thought as he pressed his cock with more urgent insistency against her cleft.

  While she had a moment of clarity she shoved away from him, jumped from the bed, tripped over the sheets before righting herself and crawled toward the door.

  She was too slow. In seconds he’d caught her by the ankles, and was dragging her back to him. When he’d recaptured her, he lifted her, rose and flipped her around, bracing her back against the wall.

  Dominique’s chest was heaving as she stared up at him, lust and a desperate need to get away warring within her.

  He pinned her with a glance. Not taking his eyes away from hers, he grasped both of her wrists within one of his hands and placed them above her, on the wall. His other hand trailed down her neck and loosely wrapped around the base in a very blatant claiming of his intent. His warm palm was centered at the pulse beating erratically at the hollow of her throat. She licked dry lips. No words were exchanged, none were needed.

  His glance fell away from her eyes to trail over her body, her breasts. Dominique’s body grew taut, and she felt sweat bead on her forehead. One lone droplet of sweat trickled down the side of her face, rolling down her face, her neck and landing at the exact spot his eyes were trained on, the tip of her nipple.

  A slow smile stretched his sensual mouth wider. Unable to look away she watched as he leaned down and licked the droplet of sweat away.

  Dominique inhaled sharply in anticipation, knowing in the back of her mind what was next.

  He lifted her breast with his hand, his thumb flickering her blood-stiff nipple. She wanted him to take it into his mouth, wanted him to suck it, lick it, stroke her…fill her.

  He nuzzled aside her hair with his nose, inhaled deeply as he lazily attended to her breast.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured so low she only felt the words against her skin.

  He released his hold on her, grasped both of her legs, and wrapped them around his waist. He laid claim to her mouth and grasped his shaft in his hand. With his other hand he blindly reached down and fingered the slick lips of her pussy and pressed one of his big fingers deep inside her.

  Dominique moaned as her own cream ran down and covered his finger, her walls clamping down to clench and release his fingers. She squirmed against him, a sound of desperate need escaping from her throat when he found her spot, and her nails scoured his back when he added a second finger to the mix.

  The slick sound of his fingers withdrawing, moments from her climax, had Dominique crying out in disbelief. “No, don’t stop, please, I—” Her panting pleas were cut short when he brushed the fat knob of his cock against the trembling lips of her vagina. In one swift, continual motion he began to feed her his cock, slowly, sweetly…painfully, inch by inch. Her passageway was slick, wet with the excitement from her near release, yet the invasion held a sharp sting of pain due to his massive girth.

  Distressed, she whimpered against his mouth, her hands pushing against the steel wall of his chest, her body squirming against his as she was trapped against the hard wall and his even harder body.

  Every muscle in her body tensed as he pumped two, three, four times, feeding her more of his turgid cock each time, his thrusts short, precise, lethal…until he was balls deep inside her.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” She chanted the litany over and over, moving her head side to side in distress as she accepted all of him. He nipped her bottom lip in a sharp, biting kiss.

  The sting from the kiss made every muscle in her body tense, the erotic feeling so sudden, so deep, that she nearly blanked out as he began to move within her body.

  She pushed against his chest, the instinct deeply ingrained as her body resisted, unable to accommodate his thick girth.

  “No,” he grunted. “Accept this, accept me.” His demand that she allow him to do what he wanted to her was as abrupt as it was hot.

  She stared into his lust-filled ones and slowly exhaled.

  She wanted this. She needed this.

  Her newfound sense of determination made Dominique bold, a keen sense of empowerment of who she was as a woman flooded her. And damn if she wasn’t going to take what her fallen angel was offering.

  Keeping her eyes on his, she clamped her thighs tightly around his lean waist and ground herself against him, rotating her hips in a slow undulation.

  His eyes narrowed even as his strokes became deeper, stronger. Dominique held on to his broad shoulders; her head thrown back, mouth open, breaths coming out in gasping puffs of air, she accepted—welcomed—his wild, hard-driving thrusts.

  “Oh yes. Yes, yes…” she cried out.

  He ground into her in thrusts so sharp that he jostled her body, and her inner walls desperately tried to accommodate his thickness. The pleasure became mindless, until she screamed over and over as he drove into her.

  She had no idea how long he fucked her. The only thing she knew was how the pressure built until it churned, grew, until she was nearly out of her mind, yet he relentlessly slid deep, in and out, moving her body to suit his pleasure, withdrawing until he was nearly out, before thrusting sharply back inside.

  He placed his hands on either side of her hips, hoisting her higher up his body and continuing to drive into her even as her orgasm hovered, built and spilled over into a shattering release.

  His cry of triumph, release, echoed loudly in the room as, with one final thrust, he plunged deep inside of her, his mouth claiming hers in victory as his seed erupted from him, flooding her, dominating her.

  Marking her as his.

  When Dominique woke, she was lying on the floor, naked. She opened her eyes slowly and began to sit up.

  “Awww…” she groaned, looking around, wondering why she was lying butt naked on the floor. She spied her T-shirt, torn, lying abandoned near her, and glanced around. As soon as she did, everything came back to her in a rush.

  The dream, her subsequent wanderings around the mansion…and him.

  She sat up abruptly, eyes wide, looking for the man who’d screwed her six ways to Sunday, hoping it had all been some wild, crazy dream. When she tried to stand, her legs were so weak she had to grab onto the large desk. She looked down at her body and gasped.

  “Shit…” she murmured. Her body was covered in dark bruises already growing purplish. She ran a hand over her skin, down her body, down her thighs.

  She brought her fingers up, looking at the final proof that nothing about what had happened was a crazy dream. It had all been too real.

  She ran her sticky palms down the sides of her thighs absentmindedly.

  “I’ve got to get out of here, before he, it, whatever, comes back.” She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the ruined remains of her T-shirt and stumbled toward the door.

  “We haven’t finished what we started, witch.”

  Dominique’s hands stilled on the doorknob, her heart sped up with fear…and anticipation, and slowly, heart beating out of control, she turned around.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m fine, Momma. Please, stop worrying about me,” Dominique lied glibly.

  She sank down within the plush cushions of the settee she was currently lying on, and placed the book she’d been reading to the side. No use trying to finish reading it, her eyes were starting to cross and even if they weren’t, Agate was far from done bitching her out.

  “You haven’t called me since you’ve gotten there, haven’t let me know you’re safe—didn’t even bother to let me know that you’d made it okay. What was I supposed to think, Dominique? This isn’t like you. You’ve always been more responsible than this.”

  “I’m a big girl, I can handle…”

  “You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. Yes. I know that, you proved your point when yo
u went against my wishes and went to that cursed man’s house in the first damn place.” The anger and hurt in her mother’s voice both upset and infuriated Dominique. “Now, come home, baby,” Agate continued on. “I’m sure you’ve learned enough, seen enough. How long do you plan to stay? You’ve been away almost a week and this is the first time I’ve heard from you.”

  “Momma, it’s only been four days—”

  “What’s going on, Domi?” Agate cut in again and Dominique barely suppressed her growing irritability with her mother. “This isn’t like you.”

  She knew Agate worried, that she loved her, but since she’d arrived, and after the encounter with…him…more and more Dominique felt like there was something inside of her, something dangerous, dark, but appealing, waiting to break free.

  She’d left home less than a week ago and in that short time, her perception of who she was, the world, had changed, in ways she was still trying to come to grips with.

  “What’s going on,” her mother asked.

  Dominique hadn’t a clue in hell how to answer that.

  She re-positioned the light blanket she’d found in one of the cedar wood chests around her body, and sank further back into the overstuffed settee.

  Biting down on her lip until she felt the coppery sting of blood, she was undecided in how much she wanted to tell her mother. But she had questions of her own, questions she knew her mother would have the answers to.

  Her mother had not told Dominique her father’s name until she was well into adulthood. It was as though Agate was afraid of saying his name aloud.

  Feeling a long diatribe coming, Dominique broke in, “Momma, I need to know more about my father.”

  The tension in the conversation went from sea level to mountain top in two seconds flat. Agate was silent for so long, Dominique wondered if her mother had hung up. But Dominique knew she hadn’t, she wouldn’t. She felt her mother’s anxiety and fear; palpable, it leapt through the phone and nearly strangled her.