Page 116 of Between Love and Loathing
Her hands were on my shirt as I did, and she moaned into the fabric, “Dominic, this isn’t us giving each other space or working out the problem.”
“I never wanted fucking space. I thought that was clear when I texted you and then came to stay with you that day. I’ll give you it but I don’t want it,” I ground out, my hands at her hips as I lifted her onto the table, “Instead, I want you every single day, and I’ll want you every day for the rest of your life.”
She stared at me like she was trying to believe it, like she was working through if she could. “Are you sure you won’t just want the idea you created?”
Clara had been used her whole life and molded into what she didn’t want from her family. I vowed right then to break her of the concept.
“Don’t you see the idea I created would have never been you, love? It would have been easier, it would have been smoother, it wouldn’t have been me worrying about you and craving you and missing you every day. It would have been a woman never fighting me, but you do at every turn.”
She whimpered when my hand went up her skirt; I felt nothing there, as always.
“Damn, it would have been you wearing underwear when you’re at dinner with another fucking man, Clara. Did you go without them for him or me this time, little fighter?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t even know I was going to dinner with him tonight but if you think this was for him”—she spread her legs wide so I could feel how wet she was and then a sly smile crossed her face—“then it definitely was.”
Fuck.
She rolled her pussy into my hand and yanked me close to her mouth. “I’m still mad and I’m still not sure about us. So, make me forget, Dominic. If only for a second.”
“You won’t ever forget anything between us.” The words came out rough as I pinched her clit and she gasped. I kissed her then, devoured her lips. Our tongues warred against one another, our hands rough, our movements fierce as we sought out pleasure from the other body.
“I’m going to fuck you on this table, little fighter, so every time you step into Valentino’s restaurant you know who owns you. Who's never been your fake boyfriend but only the real one. Who actually owns this pussy of yours. You won’t forget that.”
I think we’d both been lost without one another over the week, both wanted the fight, wanted to feel one another, even if it was painful. “Or maybe Valentino will own it,” she countered.
I lost it then, growling as I stepped back to turn her to face the table and bend her over it. Then, I grunted in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you rough for that, cupcake.”
She put her hands on the table and looked over her shoulder with fire in her eyes to goad me, “Do it.”
I smoothed my hand over her ass before I lifted her skirt and took in her perfect ass, such smooth round globes. Then, I dragged a finger over her sex. “Look at you. So wet that you’re dripping down your thighs, Clara. You think Valentino could own you like this?”
She just shook her head.
Good.
At least she knew. “This pussy is practically weeping for me to give you exactly what you need.” I undid my pants to pull out my length. “You know what that is, baby?”
I pinched her clit when she didn’t answer. “You. I need you, Dominic.”
“Yeah, me. Only me. No one else.” I let her feel the tip of me at her entrance, sliding my cock in her slickness. “I’m going to fuck you so rough. This pussy will be feeling me for days after. It’ll be sore, baby, but wet too. Want to know why? Because I belong here.”
I thrust into her swiftly, all the way in. I buried my cock as far as it would go because I wanted her to feel me everywhere in her. In her pussy but also her mind and her heart. “You’re mine. Only mine. Do you understand?”
She shook her head. “It was fake and it’s over.”
Fake. I hated that word.
I fucked her harder, smacking her ass and gripping her hips before I pulled completely out and dragged my cock between the cheeks of her backside. She shuddered at the new sensation. “You want it, Clara?”
She whispered yes but I wanted more from her.
I smacked one ass cheek again hard enough that I felt the reverberation on the other and on my length.
“Louder. Say you understand this was never fake. Say it, Clara.”
I felt her arching for my cock, but she wouldn’t say it. She wouldn’t admit what we were. And, fuck, she was stronger than me because I growled and slid inside her again without hearing her say the words. Her pussy clenched around me, and I heard her moan my name, but it wasn’t enough.
“Don’t you understand that only my cock belongs inside you, baby?” She didn’t respond. “That you fit around me perfectly?”
