by Marie James
Chapter 30
Dominic
Her warm breath is tickling the hair on my chest as I wake. I don’t question the forces that pulled us together in the night. I knew it would happen when I laid down on the bed. I knew, no matter what position we were in when we fell asleep, we’d be just as we are, her halfway laying across my chest with both of my arms wrapped around her. I can’t be angry about it, so I don’t even try. Holding her while she sleeps, even though my mind argues against it, has become one of the few things I look forward to each day.
One hand running through her gorgeous hair, the other gently cupping her full breast, no immediate concerns that need our attention. Perfection. Cock hard against the side of her hip, ready, willing, and able to fuck her into next week, but content to just touch her warm skin.
I lean over, pressing my lips against her forehead, wanting to crawl inside of her, wanting her to carry a piece of me with her for the rest of her life, and cursing Karen for fucking my head up so badly. My emotions are all twisted together, so much I can’t unravel them any longer. I can no longer tell if I just want her or if I’ve crossed over into needing her.
The intoxicating scent of her skin, different from the way it smelled when she used my soap at home fills my nose. My neglected cock jumps at her hip, eager to slide inside of her. My eyes rove from her face down every delicious curve of her naked flesh, stopping on the glistening tip of my weeping cock. The thought of her wrapping her talented lips around the crown nearly makes me moan.
The urge to fuck, to take, to conquer is so strong, I can’t remember the last time I wanted to sink inside of pussy so often. I’ve slept with more women than I’m proud of, sometimes often enough on leave to make my cock raw, but it was always to stock up before spending months surrounded by other men in the desert. Never before have I craved the same woman, repeatedly needing to be inside of her like I do with Makayla Evans. I can chalk it up to good pussy, but I’m not one to lie to myself.
Her eyes flutter open, and for a second she looks up and gives me a soft smile. Then, as if remembering herself, she stiffens against my chest and tries to pull away.
I grip her tighter and move my mouth over hers, groaning when the light brush of her tongue mixes with mine. I only wanted to hold her a little longer, feel her against my skin before words were spoken, and things grew more complicated, but her hips circle as she grinds herself against my legs. The heat of her skin on mine is intoxicating, and like an addict, I need more.
Shifting my weight until she’s on her back and I’m nestled between her legs, I nip at her bottom lip, our panting breaths mingling.
“Dom,” she whispers but I swallow her pleas.
Her wandering hands skate over the bare flesh of my back and still lower to my ass. I need the feel of her nails digging into my flesh, marking me, claiming me. Craving it so much, I understand just how perilous the urgency is. I lift her arms over her head, pinning them with one of mine as I kiss my way down her neck.
The heat of her cleft pulls more of my attention than I can handle. With a skilled shift of my hips, I’m lined up with her entrance and begging for access. Rotating her hips as much as she can, I slip the first amazing inch inside of her, relishing the feel of her pussy as it squeezes the head and begs for more.
“Dom,” she whimpers again. “Please.”
Ignoring the urgency in my balls, I slide into her inexorably slow until she’s wrapped around me and clinging to the base of my cock with desperate clenching flesh. I feel every tiny internal muscle rippling up and down my shaft, quivering as if confused by the delicate intrusion, but needing more.
With my free arm, I raise her leg, resting it in the crook of my arm, not increasing the speed of my hips but being able to sink deeper. Her eyes flutter, rolling up.
“Look at me,” I beg, too far gone to even make it sound like a command.
Unfocused eyes peer up at me as my hips pump with almost sluggish determination. Ignoring the necessity, both in her eyes and my own body, I keep the languid pace. Soft push forward, rotate my hips brushing against her needy clit, slow withdrawal. Over and over until she’s liquid fire under me, trembling, so close to the edge but unable to spill over.
“Please,” she begs. “Faster.”
I shake my head and take her mouth again. Her warm breath over my skin heats me to the point of combustion, but I stave off the demand and fuck her slow and sensual. Another thing Mak deceives my body to do that I’d never experience with another woman.
“Dom,” she gasps again. “Faster, please.”
I know the slow build, the controlled climax isn’t what she’s used to. The times we’ve been together before have been rough, hard, and bordering on violent. It’s not what I’m offering this morning, and her senses don’t know what to do with the change.
“Take it,” I pant. Fuck she feels so good. “Take what I give you.”
She whimpers again, and the pressure at the base of my spine builds. Squeezing my eyes shut for a second I stave off the need to come. When I open them again, I find her eyes pooled with unshed tears. Her head is turned to the side, and she’s focusing on something other than me, other than our coupling, almost as if she’s lost in her own head, as if willing the orgasm to take hold.
I read it wrong until she hiccups and begins to cry, the soft whimpers shaking her shoulders with the same violence she displayed after her nightmare back at my house.
I push back on my heels immediately, a reluctant withdraw from her tight, warm body and release the grip on her arms confused by her reaction.
“Mak?”
She’s trembling, a full body shake as she raises both of her hands to cover her face.
“Mak?” I say again. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer me, only shifts her hips, a sign that she wants me to move. I oblige, unsure of just what the fuck is going on.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “I was going to let you come. I only wanted slow with an edge of desperation.”
She shakes her head almost violently.
“Grinder,” she sobs. “Take it, that’s what he always said to me when he…. He…”
She can’t even get the words out, but I know exactly what she’s recalling.
She climbs out of bed, and all I can do is watch her retreating back as she closes the bathroom door. Prior images in my head of ending Grinder have never been as violent and brutal as they are right now. I want to cut away bits and pieces of his body while he begs me for a quick death.
Flopping on my back on the still warm bed, frustrated hands tug at my hair. Words that felt right at the moment and received the wrong way have fucked everything up. I argue with myself over what to do next. Do I force myself into the bathroom, show her that I’m not Grinder, prove to her that I’d never hurt her? I can’t make that promise, though. The pain I want to inflict, the way I need to hear her moan and beg for more when I hit her, choke her, is what we both need.
It’s not the same.
My mind chants the mantra over and over until I begin to believe it myself.
She needs it as much as you do.
It bounces around in my head, fueling me, powering me.
My body aches for her, and not just in a sexual way. The pain I’ve felt at my wife’s betrayal, the voice in my head that tells me not to trust anyone with a pair of tits grows quiet around her. The silence in my head when I’m inside of her is something I crave, something I need, something I can’t ever recall happening before.
She calms me and sets my blood on fire in the same breath, healing me and ripping open old wounds simultaneously.
Unable to lay down a second longer while her sobs filter through the door, I climb off the bed. I don’t reach for the door knob immediately, rather press my ear to the door, analyzing what’s going on inside.
Muffled cries and the sound of the shower running greet me.
I know if I step into that bathroom, if I become what she needs, holding her and reas
suring her that everything will be okay, I strengthen her connection to me, which will be extremely messy later.
I huff. “Messy. Shit’s already as fucking messy as it can be.”
Talking to myself is a new low.
I don’t love her, of that I’m certain, but I’m sure as fuck not done with her. It’s the consideration that I may never be done with her that has me taking additional pause outside of the bathroom door.
Chapter 31
Makayla
Feeling like a freak of nature, I close myself into the bathroom, immediately turning on the shower. Memories I need to scrub free of my body and soul flash in my head. I’m confused, ashamed, and embarrassed from walking out on him, leaving him in the bed bewildered at my quick retreat.
I don’t understand how choking me, smacking my ass until it feels like I’ve been burned, is okay, but making love to me, slowly rocking in and out combined with the wrong couple of words turns my world upside down. His steel-gray eyes turned muddy brown, the soft enraptured face became scarred, mouth twisted up into a demented snarl. He became Grinder.
I’m beyond fucked up, my body needing things I never would’ve imagined, my soul wanting to cling to a man who’s made it clear that fucking me is the only thing he wants.
The water burns my skin as I step into the cramped shower. I revel in the way it forces me to focus on the pain on the outside of my body, pulling my attention away from the broken places inside.
It can’t be longer than ten minutes before the shower curtain is pulled back and Dom steps inside with me. I look away, sure that my face is a red blotchy mess. Without a word spoken, he lathers up his hands with the lavender scented body wash and begins to run his hands over my shoulders, down my back as he pulls me against his solid chest. The crying begins anew.
“I know you’re nothing like him,” I explain unable to look him in the eye. “I don’t know why I reacted that way. You’ve never hurt me in a way I didn’t enjoy.”
His hands still, one on my lower back the other gripping my hip with a softness I’d never attribute to him.
“It’s a trigger,” he says into the crown of my head. “It may go away with time.”
“I hate him,” I mutter.
“I know, baby. I do too.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and feel his straining erection pinned between us at my lower belly. On instinct, I reach for him.
“You didn’t come,” I say taking him in my hand. “Let me take care of that.”
His hand covers mine, stopping it as I stroke upward.
“Mak, that’s not important right now.”
He pulls my hand free but soothes the rejection with the sweep of his lips against the knuckles. This is the part I hate, the Dom that doesn’t make sense. The man in here with me right now is sensitive, protective, and so fucking easy to love. The man wrapped around me right now is the most dangerous predator I’ve ever met.
Like the swaying head of a cobra, entrancing you to the point of stupidity before it strikes and leaves you bleeding, in pain, and full of a poison you’re never able to get rid of. His touches, the passion and empathy in his voice bury deep and encapsulate you in a burn so slow, you don’t realize you’re past the point of turning back until the damage has left you a smoldering pile of ash.
I can’t help but wonder if the only reason I’m having these intense feelings for him is because he’s the only man I’ve encountered that has treated me with respect, the only man to hold me when I cry. These are things a dad should be the first ever to provide for their daughter. My father didn’t get the memo, effectively breaking my heart long before a man ever had the chance to.
“You’ll feel better when he’s dead,” Dom assures me. I look up at him. “When you know he can no longer hurt you, you’ll be able to finally heal.”
I shake my head, unable to imagine a time when the thought of Grinder won’t make me cringe and shudder.
“I’m not saying it’s going to be immediate, but it’ll get easier.” His eyes cloud as if thinking of his own demons.
“I’ve got to get my sister out of there,” I offer, changing the subject before he’s lost to his own troubles. My pain I can deal with; I’ve been doing it for years. The thought that he’s struggling with his own darkness is more than I can handle.
“We’ll get her, baby. I promise.” Tender fingers reach up and push a wet lock of hair from my face. “Is her mother on board?”
The thought of Jasmine’s piece of crap mother makes my blood boil. “She sees Jasmine as a weight, a burden. She complains incessantly that my sister drags her down, but she knows Jasmine’s unspoken paternity is the only reason she’s allowed to stay.”
His eyes dart between both of mine, trying to read my thoughts. It’s unnerving because if he could, he’d know I never want him to let me go. I can’t picture a future with him. Hell, I can’t picture a future at all, but one including an amazing man isn’t something I’d ever let myself wish for.
“What happens when we get her out? Do you plan on raising her on your own?” His eyes stay locked on mine.
“Why wouldn’t I? Family takes care of family.” His thumb brushes my cheek, and I lean into the soft touch before thinking about it.
“It won’t be easy,” he whispers. “Taking care of a kid.”
“Nothing about my life has been easy. All I know is struggle and difficulty. If Jasmine is safe, the least I can do is make sacrifices for her.” My eyes begin to pool with tears once again, and I’m grateful for the water pouring over us as it masks the wetness flowing down my cheeks. “No one bothered to protect me, to love me. She doesn’t need to grow up like that. The last thing I want is for her to be as fucked up as I am.”
I turn my head from him then, looking at the shower wall, concentrating on the mist covering it. I hate the vulnerability he pulls from me. The words I’ve never spoken, the feelings I’ve tried my whole life not to feel just pour out like a broken water main when I’m in his presence.
He refuses to allow the diversion, hooking a finger under my chin he tilts my face back up to his.
“You are not fucked up,” he insists. “You have some shit to work through, baby, that’s all.”
I huff a laugh as he pulls me against his chest. He doesn’t make promises, doesn’t assure me everything is going to be okay, but he holds me against his hard body as if letting me go is the last thing he wants.
“You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I know you’ll give that little girl everything she’ll ever need. She’s lucky to have you.” My heart sings at his words, allowing just a little of the doubt in my inability to be replaced with confidence.
My mouth finds his just as the rough skin of his fingertips meet the furled flesh of my nipple. We groan in unison, feasting on each other’s mouths. The kiss isn’t fast but has an edge of desperation to it. This time the need isn’t one-sided, but a tangible thing rolling off of both of us.
His arms sweep under my thighs, crooking the backs of my knees into his elbows. He enters me the second my back touches the cool shower wall. I whimper in his mouth, needing more, needing less. I just need.
The banging on the bedroom door startles me enough to make me screech. Thoughts of Grinder busting in immediately come to mind. Dom, unaffected looks over his shoulder.
“This better be fucking important,” he bellows.
“Sorry, man.” Snatch’s voice not the demonic voice of my perpetrator. “Em’s gone into labor, and Kincaid is freaking the fuck out. He says it’s too early. They’re already headed to the hospital. Thought you’d like to know. I’m heading out if you want to ride with me.”
Dom pulls out of me, unsatisfied for the second time today.
“Give me five,” he answers Snatch before turning back and lowering my legs to the shower floor. “I’m going to fuck you stupid when I get back.”
His dark promise makes my smile grow and my cheeks heat.
I climb out of th
e shower right behind him, taking my time to towel off. I’m mesmerized by the efficiency that he dries his own body. My eyes trail him into the other room, drinking in every bunch and ripple of his muscles as he dresses. It isn’t until he sits on the bed to lace up his boots that he notices my perusal.
“You look hungry, baby,” he teases. After he’s laced up, he walks to me and plants a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Stay that way.”
I turn around and hit the shower again, needing to cool off. I know I’ll spend the next however long waiting, anticipating his return.
Chapter 32
Dominic
Snatch’s incessant leg bouncing is about to drive me up the wall. We’ve been waiting for what seems like forever. Kincaid has texted a few times, so we know everything is going fine. His earlier freak out wasn’t warranted, but I can’t blame him.
“Would you calm the fuck down?” I hiss at him.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous?” I shouldn’t chide. Everyone in the waiting room is strung tight with anxious energy. Kincaid has been so distressed since Em was told to take it easy, that it’s got everyone else just as concerned.
“You didn’t see the fear in his eyes, man. I’ve never seen Kincaid that worried. Not even that time in Bangladesh when he had that AK pointed at his fucking head.” Snatch raises the fingernail he’s been chewing on to his lips and speaks around it. “He was freaking out because of how early it is. If he loses those babies, or if something happens to Em…. Fuck, man. I can’t even think about it.”
“Idiot.” I smack the hand away from his mouth. “One, that’s nasty. Keep your hands out of your mouth. What are you three? Two, she only had four weeks left. That’s pretty damn good for twins. Diego says they’re fine. Chill out. You’re driving me nuts.”
His eyes narrow, but rather than saying anything, he looks across the room. His eyes land on the only open seat in the room, the one beside Itchy. I can see the wariness on Snatch’s face and the challenge in Itchy’s eyes as they look at each other.
