Page 31 of Until You Break

“...what do you think?” Mason asks, his tone light and casual, like he isn’t just feet away while Dominic is tearing me apart.

I struggle to remember how to breathe, let alone respond. Every nerve in my body is focused on Dominic—his hand wrapped around my throat, his fingers moving inside me with devastating precision.

“Answer. Him.” Dominic pushes his fingers deeper, hitting a spot that has my knees threatening to buckle. “But keep that sweet little voice steady, Little Sinner, or your fiance will hear you coming for me.”

This is wrong. So fucking wrong. But instead, my voice trembles as I force out the words, “That’s… that’s good, babe.”

Mason hums distractedly on the other side of the door. “We’ll head out early then,” Mason continues, completely unaware that I’m clenching around the fingers of another man.

I suck in a sharp breath, trying to focus on his voice, but Dominic tilts his head as he whispers, “He has no fucking clue, does he? Just a few feet away, and I’ve got my fingers buried inside his perfect little fiancée.”

“Stop,” I whisper, though the word comes out more like a plea than a command.

“Stop?” Dominic echoes, his tone mocking, his fingers quickening their pace. “Tell me to stop like you mean it, baby. But we both know you don’t.”

My hips betray me, pressing into his hand, seeking more, and the smirk that curves his lips against my neck makes my stomach twist with equal parts shame and need. He slows his movements, dragging his fingers out achingly slow before plunging them back in.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he taunts, his voice so low Mason wouldn’t catch it even if he pressed his ear to the door. “So fucking close. Go ahead, baby. Let go while your fiancé listens.”

“You coming soon?” Mason suddenly says. “We still need to figure out tomorrow.”

The casualness of his tone makes my stomach twist, the contrast between his normalcy and what Dominic’s doing to me unbearable. Dominic chuckles low as if he’s savoring every second of my torment.

“Yeah…” My voice is barely steady, trembling as I force the words out. “Be out soon.”

The sound of Mason’s retreating footsteps sounds, and I release a shaky breath, my heart pounding against my ribs. I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to keep from making a sound.

My fingers dig into the marble counter, my nails scraping uselessly against the smooth surface as Dominic continues his assault on my body. His thumb presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves that has me trembling, and I know I’m seconds away from falling apart.

But then he stops.

He rips his hand away, leaving me empty, aching, and furious. I gasp sharply, my body shuddering at the loss, and Dominic’s smirk is pure sin as his hand tightens around my throat.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his voice dripping with mockery as he licks his fingers clean. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

I want to scream at him, hit him, do something, but my body betrays me again, trembling with frustration and the cruel edge of denied pleasure.

“You can’t just—!”

“You think you’re conflicted now?” he murmurs. “Wait until you’re lying in bed with him tonight, trying not to think about how fucking close I had you.”

“Dominic,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anger and desperation. “We need to stop this.”

His grip loosens slightly, his thumb brushing over my pulse in a way that’s almost tender. “Why, baby? So you can go back to pretending you don’t want this? That you don’t want me?”

His words cut deeper than they should, and I grit my teeth, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, my voice breaking. “You’re—”

“Say it,” he interrupts, his tone sharp, his smirk fading slightly. “Go on, say it. I’m the bad guy, right? I’m the stalker. The unhinged one. But let me ask you something, Little Sinner—” his grip tightens again, pulling me closer until his mouth is a breath away from my ear, “—if I’m so bad, why the fuck didn’t you call Mason as soon as you saw me?”

My breath catches, his words slicing through the thin veneer of resistance I’ve been clinging to. I want to deny him, shove him away, but my hands stay rooted to the counter, my body trembling as the truth sinks in.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he murmurs, his tone softening into something almost dangerous. “You’re mine. And every time you try to pretend you’re not, every time you try to play house with him, you’ll feel this. Me. Right here. He’ll never own you like I do.”

For a moment we stare at each other in the mirror and I think he might stay, that he might push just a little further, take me to the edge of something I’m not ready to face. But instead he steps back.

“I’ll see you soon, Little Sinner,” he whispers, his voice dripping with promise; with the certainty that I’ll be waiting, that I’ll be craving this all over again.

And before I can say anything, before I can even catch my breath, he slips out of the bathroom through the window, disappearing into the shadows like he was never here at all.

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