Dominic eyes me like I’ve grown a third tit. “You started this mess.”
“Are you a kid?”
He pins me beneath his gaze. “Don’t ever call me a kid.”
Damn. The sweet nurturing Dom from my house has been replaced by the eviler one who screwed my brain loose. He clasps the hair at the nape of my neck, bringing my lips up. The beast is a fraction away from devouring my mouth. The fighting and bickering we devolved into comes apart at the seams. I stare intently at him. We should take a break from arguing and kiss.
But Dominic’s not on the same page. His grip tightens around my hair, colossal chest crushing against my breasts. A flicker of fear threads into the undeniable hunger in my soul. My chin lifts slightly, a reserved offering of my plush lips. Dominic abstains from tasting my mouth. Instead, he has authority of every inch of my frame and attention.
“You’re bad for me, mami. You make me think you’re innocent. Then you push me away. Treat me worse than any woman I’ve ever touched.”
My lips fly before I can process the venom of my jealous retort. “Don’t tell me about another woman while I’m standing here, Dominic.”
“You gave me a dose of my own medicine.” His mouth dusts across the tender pulse at my neck, teeth sinking in, kissing, inflicting pain, then washing the agony with his lips again. He mentions smoking a cigarette, and how it’s all my fault.
I press the apex of me against him. A dozen tiny motes of pleasure ease the pressure caused by his harsh kisses. But unlike the Dominic who spent a blissful weekend holding me tight in his arms, he doesn’t soften. Not like he did after plowing straight into me per my request. He’d started off driving into the depth of me, hollowing my pussy. Then his cock, his touch, and his kisses made my heart stutter.
In a low growl, his teeth dig into my flesh again, leaving only affliction this time. “All your antics, it makes me want to tear you apart, LeAnna.”
He cocks a brow, taunting me, anticipating the postal women only he can rev up in me. Fucking devil. Fully aware of who I am, he grins. Tear you apart. The bastard said the very same words to the Latina he’d screwed at the cigar lounge on the night of Roslyn’s cousin’s wedding.
A knowing gleam flashes on his pompous face. I push at him. His arms wrap around me, biceps thicker than an anaconda as he squeezes. “You followed me around like a crazed woman. What? Was I some kind of mark for you? Watch me fuck a woman? Call me crazy too, but I don’t believe you honestly thought I was El Santo when I said that to the Latina.”
Now, he’s aware of exactly how long I’ve stalked him. My hands ball into fists; my efforts futile in his malicious embrace.
“My little stalker, you sat, and you listened to me fuck another woman.” Callused palms immobilize my cheeks. “Is that all you wanted this entire time? For me to fuck you until you needed crutches? I can split your pussy wide with my dick, tear you apart, LeAnna. Mírame, chula. I can fuck you till you pass out, have you crawling back, wanting more. Don’t fear me. Lemme do that for you.”
“Fuck you, Dominic.”
“So, you followed me. Or did you notice me before that? Was this aura of terror to make me want to protect and give a fuck about you all a ruse?”
The embers in his jade orbs are an inferno, searing into the gravity of my soul. I wriggle in an attempt to be free of his taunting.
“So, I have to be crazy, Dom? Either I thought you were a serial killer, or I’m equally psychotic and pursued you for some community dick! Goodbye, Dominic.”
“No ‘goodbye’ from you!” His clutch at my face hardens, and he plucks a kiss from my fish-like lips. “I tell you goodbye, chula!”
“What happened to your mami saying no good—”
“I’ll tell you goodbye, LeAnna, when I’m ready. You don’t get to say it—ever. But the thing is, I will never be prepared to.”
We stare at each other in shock. Dominic’s hands drop from my face. His expansive torso lifts and expands in hostility. His declaration is charged electricity, binding us, though we aren’t touching.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dominic
Crushing her wasn’t the extent to what I wanted to do to Aria Jones. I’d imagined inflicting pain, delegating the type of hurt I felt all these days she avoided me. We’re dysfunctional around each other. She says crazy shit. I sling it right back. Perhaps my declaration is all truth and no chaser. I loosen the death grip on Aria. The insanity of her soft body pulsing beneath my fingertips compels me to touch her again. My fingers grasp her jaw, bringing her to her tippy toes. My mouth crashes onto hers, tongue down her throat. Aria’s legs zip around my waist where they are meant to be as I carry her into my house.
“When I’m done fucking you,” I threaten between assaulting her mouth with kisses, “we will have a long talk. A very long talk about expectations.”
Aria takes a rule straight out of my playbook, biting down on my lip. “Yes, a very long—”
She gasps. I bring her hips down, pressing her into my excruciatingly hard erection. With each step up the stairs, the heat of us intensifies. She’s so far into my head. I start to turn left toward my side of the house.
“Fuck me, mami,” I growl against Aria’s skin at the thought of any man being near my woman. “I’m about to fuck the bad out of you.”
I smile at her enthusiasm, kicking the double doors closed behind me. I start toward the foot of the bed. My mouth is glued to hers, and I slam her onto the dresser. Disconnecting our lips, Aria hooks her arms back around my neck.
“Dom,” she grits. “You stop kissing me. You’ll know crazy!”
“Condom,” I snap, reverting to one-word responses.
“You didn’t . . .” Her voice trails off in a tortured growl.
Fuck it, no condom. I swipe her off the table and onto the edge of the bed, come to my knees. In the back of my mind, this registers as madness that I let Aria Jones get the best of me—instead of me breaking her.
I’ll blow her mind the only way I know how. Snatching her cotton pants, I rip them down the thick flesh of her hips. My mouth darts to her sex, wetting her up for me. Her pussy lips quiver against my mouth. I kiss her, my long tongue darting deep.
She collapses on her back, groaning. “Fuck me, hard, Dom. Fuck me.”
I come back up, hands framing her body, so malleable between my fingers. My chest crushes down on her breast as I kiss her mouth the same way my tongue fucked her pussy.
“You taste so good.” I groan, running my cock along her slit. “You love the way you taste, Aria. Sí, mami?”
“Oh, yes!” Aria’s fingers dig into the bed, pushing her hips upward, prepared for my thrust.
“I’m addicted to the taste of this pussy, Aria. Feels like velvet, mami,” I taunt, my dick ready to cum at the stroke of the wetness along her folds.
“Yes, yes, Dom.”
She climbs downward, obsessed by the thought of being penetrated. I laugh. “You denied me for a long time, chula. You thought it was cute, denying me. Now, I can see it in your eyes. You fucking ache for me.”
My hardness slides around Aria’s clit, and she tenses. The surface of her skin screams as she grabs a pillow to bite down on.