12GiaFuck.
I looked over at him. Dominic watched the ceiling, his breathing slowing down. Sweat covered his brow. His hard and damp tattooed chest rose and fell. I studied the artwork. Intricate drawings in color and black-and-white spanned his right-side upper chest and arm ending just below his elbow. I knew it wrapped around back too. Over his shoulder. I’d glimpsed the edges earlier.
Central to the design was a clock. Three-thirty-three. Heavy chains circled it, and a skull, a grim reaper, trapped a rosary between its grotesque teeth. Beneath it an eye, the blue-like crystal, watched, and around it, intricate dark designs of which I did not know the meanings bordered both clock and reaper. Within these were carved dates. The whole thing gave off a sense of regret. Of time having run out. Of doom and damnation.
Seeing this, the name I’d given him when I hadn’t known his name fit.
Death.
And I’d just fucked him.
Or he’d just fucked me. Hell, we’d fucked each other. He hadn’t had to make me. I’d spread my legs wide and gripped him hard, taking my pleasure from him, liking the taste of him, wanting it. Wanting him. Needing him inside me. Making sure he knew he wasn’t taking anything from me.
I would not be a fucking victim. Not again. Not ever again.
Dominic turned to me, his gaze on my face.
“You fuck like you fight.”
What was I supposed to say? Truth was, I’d never been like this with anyone else. And as much as I tried to convince myself that I did it in order to not give him power over me, I’d never wanted anyone like I wanted him. His darkness drew me as much as it should have repelled me. His loneliness, his secrets—they all worked like a magnet, making it impossible to ignore.
He slid off the bed and dropped his briefs on the floor. I couldn’t help it; I let my gaze roam all over his body, his perfectly sculpted, powerful body.
“Up.” He held out his hand.
I sat up, then stood, attempting to pull my jeans over my hips as I did, feeling the smear of him leak down my belly beneath this stranger’s hoodie I’d found in the closet.
“No,” he said, pulling my hand away. “Take it off. Take everything off.”
I gritted my teeth, but my belly fluttered at the command.
“Off, Gia. Now.”
I stripped, angry, pushing my jeans down and stepping out of them and yanking the hoodie up and over my head. There was nothing erotic in my disrobing as I tugged the panties off and threw them on the floor as I unhooked my bra, dropping it onto the soiled pile. This man had seen me naked more often than clothed.
Dominic looked me over. Having his eyes on me, as much as I despised myself for it, only made me want. They made my pussy ache. Again.
But they also made me want to understand the darkness behind them.
“You look good wearing my cum.”
“I hate you.”
He closed his hand around the back of my neck and brought his face to mine.
“I don’t care,” he whispered.
I believed him. He did not care what I thought, what I felt. I wasn’t sure he cared about much at all.
A shudder ran through me. He moved, leading me by my neck into his bathroom. It was similar to mine but bigger, and for all the white in mine, his was black. Droplets of water clung to the glass wall and door of the shower. He reached in and turned on the water.
“In.”
I stepped into the stall, my belly to the spray. That was when I felt him behind me, his naked body touching mine.
I turned, panicked.
“What?”
He casually ran his gaze down to my ass, his hands gripping my hips. He leaned down, his mouth at my ear.
“I liked fucking you.”
I froze when I felt him harden behind me again, and when he rubbed himself against me as he leaned over me to pick up the bottle of body wash, I stopped breathing altogether.
“I think you liked it too.”
He squeezed some out onto his palm and began to rub it over my belly, my breasts, down to my sex then back up as I sucked in air. He turned my face and kissed me, his fingers finding my nipples as he did so, the soap slippery as he kneaded them. His tongue dipped inside my mouth, swallowing my moan whole.
He turned me so my back pressed against the wall, looked down at me, and spread my arms out to either side. His cock lay thick and hard and ready between us. God forgive me, but I wanted to touch it, to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him inside me.
“You’re fucking beautiful.”
He dipped his head to kiss my face, my neck, as the water of the shower rained down on us. He released one of my hands, and I brought it to his chest. He slid his hand down between my legs to first rub, then pinch my clit hard. Holding on to it, he leaned back to watch my face.