Page 71 of The Beautiful Dead

I forced myself to focus, eyes flicking to the files strewn across the floor. The ones from Brielle’s office and home. They cataloged every one of her crimes, not just those tied to Federico. The tangled web of deceit she wove stretched far. Murdering patients for their inheritance. Extorting families. Blackmail. Incinerating bodies for DeMarco. Hollow Pines Care Home was built on blood money, just like everything else in Marlow Heights.

Was I a hypocrite for choosing this life with Domino? His place, cars, bike—all of it was funded the same way. But that wasn’t what tethered us together. We were bonded on a deeper, darker level. We were obsession, sin, and death incarnate. We reveled in it. We needed it. We hungered for the rush of taking a life, for the power of holding it over someone’s head.

His arm looped around my throat, his grip just tight enough to steal my breath, to remind me who was in control. My body reacted instantly, my cock twitching, my mind slipping into that delicious haze only he could pull me into. His presence devoured my thoughts, swallowing them whole.

“I want to make Brielle suffer before we end her,” I whispered, my voice raw.

Domino hummed, his lips brushing my ear as he trailed his fingers down my cheek, forcing me to turn until our mouths barely touched, our breaths mingling.

“Psychological games?”

“Yes.” My eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled, my inhale swallowing it whole. “I think we need to keep her alive as long as Mom is—to make sure she gets the care she needs.”

“Mmm.”

His knuckles ghosted over my jaw before his fingers hooked into the collar of my hoodie, dragging it over my head. He moved me effortlessly, pulling me onto his lap, my legs straddling his thick thighs. My cock pressed against his stomach. His green eyes burned into me—deep, dark, shimmering with flecks of gold that reflected the firelight dancing along the walls.

I was hypnotized. Drawn in.

My lips brushed his, teasing, but Domino wasn’t one to be teased. He took. He devoured. He consumed. His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue invading, stealing the very air from my lungs as he deepened the kiss. Thick fingers tangled in my hair,yanking me closer, grounding me, keeping me where he wanted me.

My body vibrated with need. My skin burned where he touched. My blood turned electric in my veins.

I was his in every way.

The arrow that he would shoot.

The blade for him to wield.

The darkness he drowned in.

The sin that balanced his devil.

I rocked against him, chasing friction, my hips grinding down. His thighs spread wider, his cock thick and hard beneath me.

“Fuck, you taste like the darkest sin,” he groaned, nipping my bottom lip, his grip bruising as he claimed me. “You taste like mine.”

We lost ourselves in each other. Desperate touches. Biting kisses that would linger for days. Clothes abandoned, bodies pressed together, sweat slicked and fevered. I broke away, panting, my forehead resting against his as my hands clutched his shoulders.

“I want you to help me.”

Domino huffed a dark laugh, his hands gripping my waist like he might never let go. “You don’t have to ask. I go wherever you go.”

Once, those words would have terrified me. Now, they have settled deep in my bones. This was what we were. What we’d always been. The twisted, unshakable gravity between us. His demons recognized mine. They played together, danced together, reveling in the chaos we brought each other.

His hand wrapped around both our cocks, his grip tight, his strokes slow, teasing. My breath hitched as he ran his thumb over my slit, smearing precum down our lengths, using it to slick his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.”

I whimpered, my body arching, my spine bowing as he worked me over, coaxing, commanding. His mouth captured mine, swallowing my gasps, my moans, my everything. He played me like an instrument, like he’d written the melody of my body himself.

“Spit,” he ordered, his voice guttural, his cock pulsing in his grip against mine.

I leaned forward, dribbling spit onto the crown of his thick length. A growl ripped through his chest as the hot liquid rolled down his shaft, slick and messy.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his muscles tensing, his grip tightening.

“I-I’m so close…”

---