Page 33 of Defying Love

"Alexa." His voice was a low growl, vibrating through the opulent space, cutting off my protest. He stepped closer, backing me, his broad frame dwarfing mine. The weight of his stare pinned me as surely as his hands would.

"Let me do this for you," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument, his eyes daring me to challenge him.

I opened my mouth, a futile attempt to assert myself, to maintain some semblance of control over my own life. But before the words could escape, Dominic’s hand was at the small of my back, propelling me into the confines of the dressing room. The door shut with a definitive click, sealing us in a world of whispered silks and shadowed secrets.

"Dom—" My protest was silenced by the press of his lips, hard and demanding against mine. His kiss devoured any pretense of resistance, drawing out the desire I fought so hard to deny. His hands were unyielding as they roamed over my body, grasping, claiming, igniting a fire that threatened to consume my resolve.

"Let me spoil you," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot as he nipped at the tender flesh of my neck, marking me with a possessiveness that both frightened and thrilled me.

The taste of him was an intoxicating blend of power and danger, a heady cocktail that left me dizzy with need. His fingers trailed down, tracing the hem of the dress I hated but now served as a mere vessel for his desires. With a swift motion, the fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me bare to his gaze, vulnerable to his touch.

He took me then, fiercely, a claiming that brooked no dissent. Each movement was a reminder of his dominance, his control over not just my body, but my very being.

"Remember this," Dominic rasped, his breaths labored as he reached the precipice of his own release. "You are mine to spoil, Alexa."

Afterward, when the echoes of our coupling had faded and the reality of what had transpired sank in, he turned me over.

"Never question it again," he said, his voice a dark promise that wrapped around me like a shroud. "Let me spoil you as much as I want."

Twenty minutes later, arms laden with glossy bags, I staggered out of the boutique behind Dominic, the weight of opulence threatening to pull me under. The sidewalk was a blur of indifferent faces that didn't notice the way my hands trembled beneath the burden of luxury. Each step was an effort, the memory of his dominance still thrumming in my veins, mingling with the foreign sensation of silk and cashmere brushing against my skin from within the parcels. The city buzzed around us, alive with secrets and sins that I was now a part of—whether I liked it or not.

"Careful," Dominic murmured, his voice low and close, as one of the bags slipped. His fingers brushed mine, sending a jolt of heat up my arm. It wasn't just the clothes that I didn't know what to do with; it was this new version of myself he was crafting, piece by piece, thread by thread.

"Thank you," I managed to say, though gratitude was a complex knot in my chest. The clothes felt like armor, a protective layer between me and the world Dominic inhabited—a world that demanded surrender and compliance.

"Every piece was made for you," he said, his words a caress that belied the steel underneath. "Wear them and remember who you belong to."

I nodded, my throat tight. The fabrics whispered promises and threats, each garment a symbol of possession. In Dominic's eyes, I saw the reflection of a stranger—a woman draped in darkness, her edges blurred and remade by his unyielding hands.

As we approached the sleek black car waiting at the curb, the driver stepped out to open the door. I hesitated, the mountain of bags a physical barrier to entering the vehicle. Dominic took them from me, his touch commanding rather than gentle, and placed them inside with care that seemed at odds with the raw power he wielded.

"Get in," he instructed, and there was no room for refusal.

Slipping into the leather seat, I couldn't escape the scent of him that lingered in the confined space—the intoxicating blend of cologne and authority. The door closed with a finality that echoed in my bones, sealing me into this new existence.

As the car pulled away, the truth lay hidden beneath layers of fine fabric, a secret only we knew: I was adorned in beautiful shackles, leaving with more than just clothes—I was leaving with a debt to the man who claimed to spoil me, a debt paid in whispers and shadows.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dominic

The chandeliers dripped crystals like frozen teardrops. I stood amid a sea of masked faces, every eye in the room drawn magnetically to the figure beside me. Alexa was resplendent in a gown that hugged her figure with an intimacy I envied, her blond hair a cascade of moonlight against the midnight hue of her dress. Her bright-blue eyes, ordinarily windows to an untainted soul, tonight held a smoldering intensity that matched the dangerous allure of our union.

As we moved together through the well-wishers and silent onlookers, her gentle touch upon my arm was the only anchor keeping me tethered to civility. It was a masquerade of opulence: each guest draped in finery, their faces obscured, but none could eclipse the radiant sincerity that Alexa carried like a halo.

Her lips, painted the color of blood just spilled, parted in soft smiles and words dipped in honey as she greeted each person with the grace expected of her new title. Yet for all her warmth, there was a steel beneath it, a quiet strength that had drawn me to her from the moment our paths first crossed. She was playing a role, yes, but not one entirely divorced from her true self.

With every step, every polite nod, the danger that now laced her life like poison in wine showed. But still, she shone.

"Would you honor me with a dance?" I asked, my voice low, almost lost amid the swell of orchestral music that filled the space between heartbeats.

"Nothing would delight me more," Alexa replied, her hand slipping into mine, a lifeline as much as an acceptance.

We stepped onto the dance floor, the crowd parting before us like the night sky opening to reveal the moon. Her body melded to mine, a perfect counterpoint to every movement, every breath. As we spun, the rest of the world became a blur, a backdrop to the intricate dance we performed. In this moment, we were the darkness meeting the light, two halves of a clandestine whole.

As the music swelled to its crescendo, I pulled her closer, whispering promises I desperately wished I could keep. For now, this dance was ours—a fragile interlude in a story yet unwritten, a dance of defiance against a fate neither of us could escape. And when the final note quivered into silence, we remained, locked in an embrace that spoke of a longing far deeper than the charade we played.

As the crowd's applause dwindled into a mosaic of intimate conversations and clinking glasses, I leaned in, letting my breath caress the nape of Alexa's neck. "You were impeccable tonight," I murmured, my voice a low thrum that resonated with pride. "I'm beyond proud of you."

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