Dominik
I never take my wealth for granted, and this is one of those times. One of the perks of this insanely well-appointed home I bought in Phoenix is a master bath practically designed to be lived in. It’s so big it has a suite of furniture on one side with plush carpeting underneath. A couch and two chaise lounge chairs and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why seating for more than two people is needed in a bathroom.
But I can live with that oddity because the sunken bathtub, which could easily seat four people, is a perfect haven to lounge in with Willow after some extremely vigorous fucking that got us quite sweaty. With the miracle of a tankless hot water system, we have a deep pool of warm water topped with scented bubbles to soak and relax in.
Willow sits between my spread legs, reclining fully so her back is on my torso. I’ve got a sponge in one hand, running it along her arm.
“Kane Bellan seems to be fitting in nicely with the team,” she remarks.
That he does. He made a fast move from Raleigh to Phoenix in exchange for Rafe once the waivers cleared, and he’d stepped on the ice with us in time for game two against Seattle. By game four, he’d found his footing and his rhythm and had contributed a goal and three assists in the first round.
“I think his style of play matches Rafe’s so closely it’s made it a hell of a lot easier on us. It really was a good swap.”
“Which is good since Vancouver doesn’t have a deep second line.” She punctuates that with a giggle as I draw the sponge under her arm and along the side of her breast.
“You know it completely turns me on that you can discuss hockey with me,” I muse, moving the sponge to the middle of her chest. I place my mouth near her ear, murmuring, “It makes me want to do really dirty things to you.”
“Mmmm,” she replies lazily. “I’m okay with that.”
Of course she is. She’s inexhaustible when it comes to sex, which matches me perfectly. She genuinely enjoys the art of it. Loves orgasming and everything that leads up to it. She’s as much of a giver as a taker. Sometimes, she likes to give so much that I have to make her lay back and take it.
She’s perfect in every way when it comes to fucking.
When I move the sponge down her belly, she shifts against me, spreading her legs in a silent request for me to continue farther south.
When I glide it over her, she arches slightly, neck twisting to reveal the elegant slope of her neck and shoulder.
The scars I’ve noticed time and again, particularly when riding her from behind or rubbing soap over her in the shower, peek through the film of bubbles left there.
I halt my movements to trace one of the scars with the forefinger of my other hand. It’s slightly deeper than the others, completely white against the olive tone of her skin.
“Where did you get these from?” I ask.
“Afghanistan,” she replies in such a blasé tone, I’m not quite sure if she’s joking with me or not.
“Afghanistan?” Not hiding the incredulity I’m feeling.
“Yup. About three years ago, I think. Got hit by some shrapnel from an RPG blast.”
I’m so startled by this revelation I bolt up ramrod straight, which pushes Willow away from me. It’s good since I need to see her face.
She twists to frown at me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I bark.
Her brows knit together, not quite happy with my glare. She speaks slowly… as if she needs to explain something to a third-grader. “I’m a photojournalist. Sometimes, I work in war zones.”
“The fuck you do,” I retort, not sure if I’m asking a question or ordering her to obey.
Her expression causes a tiny voice in my head to start screaming, Abort, abort, but I choose to ignore it.
“You handle student protests and risk getting hit by a thrown tomato,” I remind her as if I’m privy to all the mysterious secrets that make up Willow Monahan when, in truth, I know nothing. “That’s what you do as a photojournalist.”
“No,” she drawls, irritation clear in her voice. “I go on any job I choose to go on, some of which happen to be in dangerous areas. Sometimes, tomatoes are thrown. Other times, it might be grenades.”
“That shit stops right now,” I almost shout.
And then… Willow laughs. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, she actually clutches her belly as she cackles hysterically.
My jaw locks, teeth starting to grind.
Luckily, she doesn’t laugh long. Opening her eyes, she pins them on me with a coldness I’d never seen before. “No one tells me what I can and can’t do.”
This simply isn’t true. In the past few weeks, Willow has bent to any number of demands from me. I know, without a doubt, I could take her by the head and push my cock in her mouth without a single word… and she’d take it like a champ.
But even I realize this is different.
That’s sex and I’ve already figured out Willow likes me taking charge when we fuck.
But this is Willow’s life, and I have absolutely no say in it.
Still, like a dumbass, I press on, trying for a calmness I don’t feel inside.
“I get you love what you do, Willow. Admire it even. But don’t you think that maybe you should reconsider that line of work?”
“Why?” she demands, scrambling up to face me fully. Cascades of water and bubbles sluice off her body, revealing its glory to me but for the first time since I met her, I’m not interested in that beauty.
“Because you could die,” I reply.
“Could get hit by a bus tomorrow,” she points out.
“I’d say chances of that are far less than getting blown up in Afghanistan.”
“I’m not arguing with you about this,” she replies hotly, pivoting to step out of the tub. I don’t expect that, and I hastily rise to climb out after her.
She nabs a towel, wraps it around herself, and stomps off into the bedroom.
I grab a towel, then hastily tuck it in around my waist. By the time I catch up, she’s nabbing her clothes from the floor where they’d been discarded earlier.
Grabbing her arm, I halt her progress, forcing her to face me. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” she replies.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got to get ready for the next job I’m taking. I fly out tomorrow.”
“What?” I ask incredulously. “Where? Why are you just now telling me about it?”
She jerks her arm out of my grasp, then shrugs out of the towel. Leaning over, she starts stepping into her panties she’d snatched off the floor. “Because I wasn’t going to take the job until just now.”
“What job?” I bark.
She shimmies the panties over her hips and looks me directly in the eye, a glimmer of defiance there. “Democratic Republic of the Congo. Some political unrest there. Could be very, very dangerous.”
She’s fucking taunting me, yet I know she’s not exaggerating either. The urge to grab her, toss her on the bed, and tie her there so she can’t escape is overwhelming.
“So you’re taking a dangerous job just to spite me?” I growl. “Real mature, Willow.”
“No, to prove to you that I am my own woman and you own no part of me.”
Wrong fucking words, Willow.
Too much challenge as well.
“You’re wrong about that,” I promise as I advance, the sensual rumble of my words making it clear my mind is no longer thinking about war and danger.
“Dominik, no,” she says, her palms held outward to ward me off. She backs toward the bed, which is actually perfect.
I pounce, snagging her around the waist and throwing her on the bed. She tries to scramble backward, but I come down on top of her.
Our eyes lock for a moment, and I tell her a truth she’s never going to forget. “I do own a piece of you.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I fill it with my tongue instead. She doesn’t fight me for even a moment, her hands diving into my wet hair to yank me harder against her.
The kiss is short, and she makes a disgruntled sound as my mouth moves away from hers. But then she purrs as it goes to her neck, down between her breasts, and along her stomach. I roll off her just long enough to push her panties down her legs, and she manages to kick them loose.
Then my face is buried in her pussy, her legs are over my shoulders, and she’s rocking hard against my tongue. It takes no time at all for me to get her off, her scream through her own orgasm validating my claim over this small piece of her.
I’m as hard as a rock as I give her a last lick, then surge up her body and drive in deep. She arches off the bed, calling out my name. I want to let out a victory cheer as I start to fuck her.
We’d done away with condoms in Seattle after assurances of monogamy and clean bills of health. Since she’s also on birth control pills, we’ve been bare fucking ever since and sex has never been this intimate. I’ve always used condoms, no matter the partner.
I’m on such an adrenaline high since learning Willow’s job is dangerous, knowing she’s been in danger, will be in danger again, doesn’t seem to give a shit about it, and then goads me into asserting my dominance over her in bed. It has me pounding into her so hard I’m afraid I’m hurting her.
But she’s digging her nails into my ass, panting, “Harder. Harder,” into my ear.
God, we’re fucking perfect together. Why can’t she see that?
Without warning, Willow starts to break apart again, her pussy tightening around me and I lose my shit, coming inside her so hard I let out a primal roar of release.
I collapse onto her body, completely empty and unsure as to where my world stands.
But she makes it all too clear by pushing me off her body.
Reluctantly, I roll to the side and she slides off my bed without a backward glance. Silently, she pulls her clothes on and strides toward my bedroom door.
I don’t make a move to stop her, but I do issue a challenge of my own. “Don’t do this, Willow. If you go, I can’t continue this. I don’t want that type of worry.”
She pauses at my door, her hand going to the casing as if she needs it to steady herself. She twists slightly toward me, perhaps wondering if I’ll say something else.
I won’t. I’ve made my position clear, and I don’t negotiate.
I hold my breath, hoping she reconsiders.
Just turn around, Willow. Let’s talk about this. I’m sure I can make you see reason.
Instead, when her spine straightens and her hand falls away from the casing, I realize I’ve lost. Head high, she walks out of my room and doesn’t look back.