Page 7 of Ice
She dropped her leg off the bed in a huff, her body screaming its protest for not finishing what she started. She grabbed her pants, pulling them on when she heard the door creak open followed by a grunt.
She reached for her top and turned around to face Dom. She didn’t bother rushing to cover herself. She had gotten rid of any modesty she had soon after her grandfather initiated her into his organization.
Neither one of them said anything for a while. The only sounds in the room came from her thundering pulse and Dom’s heavy breathing as his eyes scorched her body with the same possession he had when they were younger, but there was also a softness in his eyes. To her it looked close to pity and remorse.
She knew what her body looked like now. Most of her scars had healed and were faint reminders of what she’d been through—those she covered up with tattoos. But there were ones that were still angry and pink that hadn’t healed correctly because either her grandfather or one of his men kept picking at it when she disobeyed them.
Those she couldn’t cover up, and to someone like Dom, there was no way she could make up some story that would make those scars look like anything other than the abuse she endured. She wasn’t ashamed of her body or what she went through. She had nothing to hide, especially from Dom. He could look and understand that these scars were proof there wasn’t anything that could break her.
Dom couldn’t get his brain to function right away. Sofia was standing next to his bed half naked, and he didn’t know what he wanted to do to her first—ravish her beautiful body or hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
He saw beyond the tattoos that covered most of her body. She had angry pink welts on her soft skin that never healed properly. He saw the ones on her back. She’d been whipped repeatedly. He’d done the same shit to a few of the Barbati’s enemies to get information out of them. He knew exactly what type of whip was used to cause those scars and how many times they had to hit that exact area for them not to heal right, leaving a reminder of what was done so they wouldn’t do it again.
Dom wanted to resurrect her piece of shit grandfather just so he could skin the bastard. How could he do that to her, his own blood? He should have been protecting her, not beating her like she was the enemy.
“Saffi.” His voice was a soft plea. He wanted to apologize that she ever had to endure what she went through.
Sofia cursed under her breath, putting her shirt on. “Stop it, Domenico. I told you this morning, it’s Sofia or…” her eyes sharpened, hitting him with that icy stare he was starting to believe was her way of issuing a warning she wasn’t going to give a second time, “Ms. Barbati. That girl you used to call Saffi no longer exists.”
Sofia turned her back toward him, oblivious to his growing anger at what she endured—or maybe she just didn’t care. She went about her business, putting on her boots and checking the guns he left for her on his bed. That same bed where he’d spent hours learning her body. Sofia may have believed that girl he fell in love with didn’t exist anymore, but she had once been an extension of him; time and distance wasn’t going to change that.
He saw the way she softened when he called her by his nickname for her. That girl was alive and well inside of her. She was buried behind years of armor she needed to protect herself with, but she was still there.
Dom moved toward her, his body needing to feel her and console her. She turned around the second he was behind her. He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes seemed lifeless now that she wasn’t giving him her icy stare. It was like she was going through the motions of everyday life, but she couldn’t feel anything.
He leaned in, tilting her head back. She let the gasp slip from her lips, and he chuckled in response. “I know you have to put up your icy walls and act unfeeling for everyone because that’s how you learned to survive. But remember, Saffi, even before I had the privilege of being inside of you, I knew you. I knew what pissed you off and what made you smile. I remember tasting the fire behind the passion that burned inside of you. If you need me to call you Ms. Barbati while we’re out there, that’s fine, but in here when it’s just the two of us, you’ll always be my Saffi.”
He leaned in like he was going to kiss her, and he felt a sharp pain slice under his chin. He tried to look down but every time he did, he felt something prick his skin.
Sofia tsked. “Move your hands.” Dom dropped his hold on her, and she turned him around so his back was facing the bed. “Be a good boy and sit. My neck hurts from having to look up at you.”
Dom smirked but did as he was told. His smirk turned into a chuckle when he saw the pocket knife that had been jabbed underneath his chin was the same one he’d given her on her sixteenth birthday. She kept trying to steal his, so he got her a similar one for her protection.
Sofia slipped the pocket knife into her pants. “For someone as lethal as the rumors say you are, I shouldn’t have been able to pull a knife on you.”
She wouldn’t have if she was anyone else and he viewed her as a threat. Sofia wouldn’t have cut him, at least not deep enough to cause any real damage. She would have clipped him as a warning or to prove that she could do it, but he didn’t believe she’d be able to hurt him.
Sofia stepped in between his legs, and Dom reached for her. “You wouldn’t have hurt me, Saffi.”
She batted his hands away. “I didn’t say you can touch.” She practically purred, and Dom’s dick twitched in his pants. “You know what I learned being in Colombia?”
Sofia rested her hands on Dom’s shoulders, and his muscles tensed under her touch. She lifted her knee up and rested it on the inside of Dom’s thigh dangerously close to his dick. She made small circles with her knee against his leg, each time getting closer and closer to the tip of his cock.
His body was rock hard, and he couldn’t hear anything over the blood nose-diving out of his brain and into his lower region. Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm bell went off, but he quickly silenced it, too enthralled by the icy temptation that was currently setting him on fire.
Sofia leaned in, her lips an inch away from his. He held his breath, desperate to close the distance between them. Her pink tongue tentatively snuck out from between her lips and licked his bottom lip. Dom groaned, reaching for her hips, and his groan of pleasure quickly turned into a groan of pain as her knee connected with his dick. “Fuck.”
Sofia pushed off of him, and he grabbed his dick, falling back onto the bed. “What the fuck was that for, Saffi?” He felt her hands on his thighs, and he peeked down at her. There was that icy cold stare of hers again, and somehow it made his hurt cock twitch in anticipation. He had no clue where this was going, but that didn’t make him want to put a stop to this.
She climbed up his body, straddling his waist. Her hands went to his chest, and a feeling of déjà vu had his heart rate spiking. He loved fucking Sofia, but nothing compared to the sight of her on top, riding his dick in complete abandon.
He saw her lips pull back into a knowing smirk, and there went that alarm bell in the back of his mind going off again. This time he wasn’t going to ignore it. “What are you doing, Saffi?”
She tsked. “I’m showing you what I learned in Colombia. Men are particularly easy to read—especially if you flash them a pair of tits and innocent eyes.” Her hand trailed down his chest, resting at the top of his jeans. “Even now, I’ve had my knife at your throat, kneed you in your balls, and still I can feel you growing harder for me. If I told you to fuck me, you’d have me on my back in a second flat.”
Her hand disappeared between them and began to stroke his dick through his jeans. His breath left his body in a grunt. There was a wicked gleam in her eyes that told him he needed to stop this, that he was open and vulnerable, and if she wanted to kill him, this would be the perfect way to do it.
“You see?” Sofia continued to stroke him, and he could feel the pre-cum wetting the front of his jeans. He wanted her hands wrapped around him—he wanted to remove the barrier of clothing and fuck her until they both fell prisoner to their pasts.
