"You'll need to obey my every command."
"Don't I always?"
He swept me into his arms, his hands placed under my bottom, cradling me against his chest. "Not always, but you'll learn." His eyes sparkled just seconds before he crushed his mouth over mine. His tongue parted my lips, darting the tip inside. The taste of scotch was intrinsic, filling my mouth in the same way the sweetness of him always did. His powerful arms surrounded me, the feel of his heartbeat matching the rhythm of mine.
I was alive and on fire, hungry to have his cock filling me, fucking me. He ravaged my mouth, forcing our tongues together in a brutal dance of passion and dark longing. I could never get enough of him.
His mouth.
His dominance.
His thick cock.
We tumbled to the sand and within seconds, he thrust the entire length of his cock inside my aching pussy. Moaning into the kiss, I shuddered as the salty water lapped over our heated bodies.
Dominick yanked my arms over my head, dragging them together until he was able to grasp my wrists with one hand. He broke the kiss, hovering over me as he took several deep breaths. The darkness had returned to his eyes, the hunger catapulting him into the savage man I knew him to be. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Show me."
A chuckle erupted from his throat, more animalistic in nature than anything else. I was his for the taking, his to discipline.
His...
He pumped in and out, the force pushing us hard into the sand. I wrapped my legs around his hips, trying to arch my back, desperate to have more of him inside of me. He stretched my pussy muscles wide, forcing his shaft all the way inside. I was crazed because of this man, my thirst never quenched.
With every hard stroke, the water washed over us in unison, cleansing the very darkness dwelling deep within. There was nothing like the power of this man, his ability to drive me to the brink of ecstasy then pulling back.
But on this beautiful afternoon, there was nothing he wouldn't do to ravage me, finding his own desperate satisfaction.
He swept his hand down, brushing the tips of his fingers across my breast, leaving me tingling all over.
"Oh, yes!" I closed my eyes, panting as he thrust, the sound of our bodies molding together floating above the crashing waves. As his cock swelled, filling me so completely, my body rushed into a sublime state of bliss.
This was absolute heaven.
"Fuck!" My eyes flew open, the images of the incredible dream still vivid in my mind. The fantasy had left me wet and hot, my pussy clenching and my nipples fully erect. I wanted him. I could almost feel him. Even as my thoughts lingered on the dazzling moments, I realized they were nothing more than a fantasy.
Beautiful.
Amazing.
Fake.
My life with Dominick could never be something magical, his dangerous life preventing us from finding true happiness. I gripped the sheets, rolling over and clenching my hand around my pillow, making certain the whimper was muffled. How many hours had passed since Dominick had left, the scathing broadcast shoving not only his life but mine into utter turmoil?
I'd fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon, stress and tension the cause. Or maybe sadness. This wasn't going to solve anything, other than fueling my despair. I rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Dominick was right. I wasn't any better than he was. I'd squirreled away some kind of secret, even though I had no clue what that might be.
I thought about my time with her, our conversations. I'd pushed her away more after going to school, refusing to come back other than Christmas and summer. She'd become more despondent and I'd ignored her. Guilt had taken me hard, keeping me sick and full of hopelessness. I thought about one conversation in particular and...
The box. My mother's box. For some crazy reason I hadn't thought about it even after hearing she was alive. Granted, I hadn't been paying much attention to her on the day she'd come into my bedroom, her voice hushed. She'd been tentative, anxious, and looking over her shoulder. I hadn't thought about just how frightened she'd seemed.
Until now.
That had been three years ago, two years prior to her fake death. I rubbed my arms and paced my bedroom, trying to make sense of everything I'd seen and heard. If my father had found out that someone was looking for my mother, I had no doubt he was capable of resorting to any lengths to protect his secret.
Or her secret.
I had to find out. I had to know what she'd been so petrified of during her entire marriage. There'd been no substantial conversations, her happiness only occurring when he was out of the house for an extended period of time. I should have asked more questions, but there'd been nothing to compare my household to others. I'd had few friends, no sleepovers, and no way of knowing just how dysfunctional my family really was.
I was terrified of doing so now.
My mind was muddled enough that details of the one-sided conversation I'd had with her only came in bits and pieces. What I did remember was the location of the box she'd mentioned-a UPS store. There was one close to my father's house but there was no way to be certain if that was the one. Was everything still there? What little I knew about them was that they had to be paid for. I do remember she mentioned the location was secure for some time to come. Did that mean years? What about a lock? Combination or a padlock?
Either way, I was screwed. There was no way that Bruno would let me out of his sight, especially not now. The only hope was to enlist his help. Was that possible? I did remember clearly were her last words before walking out of the room.
"If anything happens to me, get the box, my sweet daughter. Number 518. You'll know what to do."
And I'd done nothing after her death, completely blocking out the entire conversation. An additional wave of guilt riddled me, the kind that forced cramps into my entire body.
I hadn't heard from Dominick and had no way of knowing when he'd come home. Home. The word was foreign. This wasn't my home.
The same nagging inner voice that yanked me into the dream was laughing, a bitter reminder that this was required to be my home. Maybe after only a few days I was ready to accept. No, there were no maybes.
Except for the fact Dominick needed to remain alive and free from incarceration.
I refused to add the word 'if' to the mix. I was terrified for him in several ways. I'd seen the wretched look on his face as the ugly pictures had passed by on the screen. I'd heard his bitter exhales as my father expanded on certain details. I also wasn't a fool about either of them.
My heart ached, but not just because of the despair Dominick was in but because of the love burrowing, creating skips in my heartrate. All his brooding and ugliness and I loved him. If there was a way to help the damning situation, you bet I was going to find it. A swift moment of sadness settled in, pushing away the love. Was this some weird attempt of my father to free me from what he had to believe was a prison?