A Dominant Salvation (A Dominant Series Book 3)

by Lena Black

I nod.

  He leads me to the bench at the end of the bed, kneels in front of me, and scoops the heel of my foot into his hand, palming the gold gladiator sandal in the other.

  “Where are we going exactly?” I inquire as he slides the heel on my foot and sets it on his thigh.

  “It’s a surprise,” he says, weaving the thin gold straps up the length of my calf to under my knee.

  “Oh joy,” I reply flatly.

  He glimpses at me, and I smirk, scrunching the bridge of my nose.

  He lets out a quick chuckle. “Alright, smartass, other foot.

  When he’s done lacing the other sandal, he bows and kisses the innermost part of my knee. I breathe out a whimper at the electric rush his mouth sends from my leg to my clit, his fingers lightly stroking the back of my knee as he supports my calf in his strong hand.

  “You trying to get me all messed up on you?”

  His eyes glance at me from his knelt position on the floor.

  He replies, “Who’s trying?” an omniscient smirk pasted across his cocky lips, reading my body better than I do myself. He understands what turns me on, and he uses it to his advantage.

  A short flight from Santorini to the mainland and a very handsy ride later, the distant lights of Patras come into view, a city set against a shimmering coastline, a mix of expensive yachts, sailboats, and cruise ships. Drifting on the back of a strong breeze, the smell of exotic foods and spices envelope my nose. As we approach the city, I notice the mix of expensive yachts, sailboats, and smaller rickety dinghies overshadowed by the monstrosities in the harbor.

  When we enter the madness, Hunt takes my hand and leads me through the crowd of locals and tourists celebrating carnival. They dance and sing around us, inviting us to join in, the women in brightly colored dresses.

  We weave through the people-packed streets until we get to a large square. There’s a grand fountain in the center, with long strands of green, blue, and yellow lights strung from the tops of surrounding buildings.

  Hunt stops in the middle of the wild mob and turns back to me with a huge grin on his face, showing off those bright pearly whites. They seem whiter against the honey glow of his newly tanned skin.

  “This is incredible!” I shout over the voices and music.

  He pulls me closer with a hand curved about my waist and begins to sway to the music. Once we get into the rhythm, he starts to get a bit fancier with his movements, spinning and dipping me. His footwork becomes more intricate until we’re doing something resembling a rumba or cha-cha.

  We dance and dance and then dance some more. We dance until we’re glistening with sweat and our feet ache. After what feels like an hour, he drags me out from the depths of the festive crowd. I hadn’t realized how hot it was until we break from the mess of people and the crisp night air hits my face.

  Suddenly, the music changes to something much too fast and the bird-like women begin shaking their plump asses in a way that doesn’t even seem human. Hunt holds me to him while I watch them in awe, grinning uncontrollably. One of them, wearing a bright yellow costume, notices me and waves me over. I shake my head, but she won’t take no for an answer. She grabs my hand and pulls me next to her. She says something I can’t understand. When she realizes I don’t get it, she shows me, moving her hips in a sharp twisting motion. I try to mimic her but do a terrible job at it. It doesn’t matter though, because I’m having a blast. I smile and laugh, looking ridiculous in my failed attempt.

  I notice Hunt staring at me, engrossed, chuckling to himself. He tries to stifle it with his hand, but it’s a feeble effort. I crinkle my nose and stick my tongue out at him. It might get me a ‘vigorous spanking’, but I couldn’t possibly care less. I’m having too good a time. Plus, knowing myself, I’ll enjoy it.

  He slowly lifts a brow, a warning.

  Even with all his cocked brows and crossed arms, I know he secretly loves it. Just as this thought crosses my mind, a mischievous, closed mouth grin creeps over his lowered face.

  He’s aroused.

  He wants me.

  He leisurely walks toward me, shoulders languid like a lion on the hunt, weaving through the crowd with graceful, stealth movements. His heavy-lidded eyes remain targeted on me with uninterrupted focus.

  Hunt. My Dom. My dark prince.

  He reaches out for me and yanks me into him with a jarring jolt. Pressing my body into his closely, he grabs the back of my neck and holds my face near his.

  “I love to watch you dance,” he murmurs against my lips before crashing his onto them with a forceful desperation.

  He kisses me deeply, passionately, wholly. I’m in an oblivious stupor, so intoxicated by him that I don’t come out of it until long after his lips have left mine.

  Hunt

  We arrive back at the seaside villa, still high from the night and each other. I take pleasure in watching my wife strip off her delicate dress, revealing her dangerous curves adorned in red lace. Her little nipples peek out from beneath the thin material of her bra, which is taut against her full breasts. She runs her hands over the small of her waist to the wide mound of her hips. The light behind her seeps through her legs, and I spot the cock-hardening outline of her inner thighs. The red of the lace clinging to those dangerous curves gives her, my blushing bride, an air of danger. I’ve never felt so aroused or dirty before, as if I’m defiling her with the lascivious images flashing through my mind like an erotic slideshow.

  I want her in our bed.

  She places a foot up on a chair, ready to unlace those sexy heels with the straps intertwining all the way up her calves.

  “Stop,” I command and saunter up to her with my belt in hand, the end wrapped a few times about my palm, and place it about the back of her neck.

  She glances up at me with large blue eyes, full lips trembling, her sun-kissed cheeks and forehead giving her a radiant glow. I haul the strap into me, bringing her with it. Our mouths meet with a unison moan.

  “I want you like this,” I murmur between our smashed lips.

  “I’m yours,” she whispers back.

  With my belt still wrapped about her neck, I walk backwards toward the bed, bringing her with me. I kiss her hard, probing my tongue deep into her mouth, massaging hers with forceful strokes.

  I release the belt from her neck and shove her back onto the mattress, staring down upon her panting for me. Grabbing onto the spiked heels, I lift her feet and rest them on my shoulders. I run my hands the length of her tan legs, nibbling every so often on her ankle or her instep with my teeth. She writhes and moans, her hooded eyes watching me with a lustful haze clouding them over, like stormy skies.

  I kiss my way down her calf, burying my face between her ample thighs, my mouth lingering over the faint lines plaguing the soft flesh of the innermost part. The marks of Nicholas’ possession over her.

  “They make me feel ugly,” she confesses, knowing fully well I’m studying them.

  “Until the day I die,” I trace a particularly dark scar with the tip of my pointer finger, “you’ll be beautiful to me.”

  “But it doesn’t change the fact they’re there.” She clenches the skirt of her dress, bunched around her waist, and pulls it down to cover the tiny mutilations decorating her nearly perfect skin. “Even if they fade, the memory of them will always be cut into my mind.”

  I move the fabric of her skirt away from between her legs. My lips move across the faint scars with care and tenderness, attempting to kiss her pain away.

  “Why do you think he did this?”

  “I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve come to the conclusion that he wanted every man who came after him to know he was here, that I belong to him.”

  “But you don’t, angel. You never did.”

  “I know. I belong to you.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You’re a strong, intelligent woman who stood on her own two feet. You fought your way out of the darkness. You belong with me, but you’re your own person.”

&nb
sp; “Can’t we share me a little?” She reaches her hands into my hair, combing the fingers through the mess. “Marriage is fifty-fifty.”

  I laugh.

  “Alright, angel, fifty-fifty.”

  She rides out her orgasm as I pour myself into her body. It gyrates and grinds against mine, her quivering legs straddling my hips tightening their grip. My hands skim the dramatic curves of her torso, coming to rest on the rounded mounds of her hips. I love the way they widen when she sits herself back on my thighs, my cock still submerged inside her. Her skin shines with sweat. Her heavy breasts rise and fall with every stressed breath, open to me as she combs her fingers through her wild, short blonde locks. I rise and bury my face within their soft warmth. Her arms wrap about my head, cradling me to her until I nearly suffocate. I’d gladly take my last breath to stay like this, buried in my wife.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” I mumble between the fleshly pillows.

  She giggles and pushes me onto my back.

  I’ve traveled the world, stood amongst the clouds in the city of Machu Picchu, watched the sun set across the Serengeti, seen things most people have only ever dreamt of. But this, the vision of my stunning naked wife with her platinum hair about her sex-flushed face as it leans over mine is the most awe-inspiring thing I’ve ever seen.

  She collapses on my chest, our lips catching her fall. Her head drops against my shoulder with a moan, my fingers tickling the line of her spine when her body eases into mine.

  After a brief stint of reflection, I ask, “What are you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking I love this place, and I wish we’d never leave.”

  “That would be ideal,” I agree, hugging her and resting my cheek atop her head.

  “Why can’t we?” She lifts her head, resting her chin on my chest, and stares me square in the eye, the sincerity in hers unmistakable. “Why can’t we stay here, or run away to another place? You have more money than any one person knows what to do with. Let’s run away from everything.”

  “Gabrielle…” my voice falls away.

  “We can raise the twins in a place where they’ll never know sadness or hardship or heartache. We could protect them, away from the rest of the world, away from Dante.”

  I’d love nothing more than to escape from the stresses of our life, hide away, spend every waking moment of every day with her. But we can’t turn our backs on our problems or our family.

  “You don’t mean that, Elle. You’re exhausted and scared.”

  “I am exhausted. I’m exhausted of always having to look over my shoulder. I’m exhausted of never feeling completely safe. Being here has made me realize I’m at the end of my rope. I want this to be over. I want peace.”

  “I know, angel. I want it too.”

  “I’m so afraid.” She lies her head back on my shoulder, nuzzling her face into my neck. “I love you so much, and it terrifies me. We have so much to lose.”

  “Doesn’t it feel amazing?”

  She smiles softly, seemingly coming to her senses.

  “Yes.”

  “Plus, you don’t seem to realize, Gabrielle, we have everything to gain. One day, I’ll make you happy. The way you deserve.”

  “Damian, I’m happy. At the core of everything, I’m happy. It’s what keeps me going, keeps me strong.”

  “We’ll figure this out, Elle.” I guide her head back down to my shoulder with a gentle hand, setting my lips on her forehead, and whisper, “I promise.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paradise Lost

  I’m torn out of sleep by something I haven’t heard in a long time, the heart-wrenching screams of Damian as he fights his nightmare, his past. I spring up and look down at him, noticing how his body arcs with tension. His jaw clenched, he lets out a painful, muffled cry.

  He murmurs, but I can’t understand him, then he lets out a blood-chilling scream and sits up as if being yanked from his unpleasant dream. His chest heaves erratically, and sweat glistens across his body. He places his face in his hands, and I hear something foreign, something startling, the sound of crying, whimpering, desperate tears of sorrow. It’s the sound of a man at his emotional rock bottom. It’s my strong, dominant man, my husband, my rock, breaking down right in front of me.

  He’s so deep in his terror, I’m not even sure he realizes I’m beside him let alone in the same room.

  “Damian,” I whisper, placing my hand on his upper back. He jerks, raising his fist up, ready to attack until his eyes meet mine. The hard look on his face melts away.

  “Gabrielle.”

  He lugs me into his lap, pressing his face into my chest, cradling me to him until it’s difficult to breathe.

  “Damian,” I whisper again, enfolding my arms about his head, setting my face against his dark, damp hair.

  He swallows hard, gulping down the fear that still clutches him, and holds me. After a few minutes of cradling each other in our arms, he takes a loud breath and moves away from me. His eyes red, he looks at me with such heartache, I think I might begin to cry. But I stay strong. It’s time for me to be here for him as he’s been there for me when I needed it most.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  He shakes his head, looking emotionally defeated. “No, I’m not.”

  “I’m here, slick. I’m here.” I caress the side of his flush face with my thumb, placing my lips on his clammy forehead and murmur against it, “Tell me what I can do to help you feel better.”

  He releases a relieved exhale, nuzzling his face into my lips, taking comfort in my touch.

  “Listen to me,” he answers, almost whispering. I move back, looking him in the eyes, “and accept me when you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  “Damian, you should know you never need to question my loyalty to you. It’s unconditional.”

  “When I went to live with my uncle,” his words are shaky at first, but become steadier as he continues, “I was still grieving my parents’ murder, terrified of what the future held for my sisters and myself. We were totally alone in the world, and the sonofabitch took advantage of that. It started out simple enough, he treated me poorly, made me do chores, cook, clean, etc. I didn’t mind all that. What I did mind was how the monster eyed my little sisters. He watched them in a way that sends chills down my back every time I think about it, to this very day.

  “I began to notice after some time, he would touch them a little too long or in a fashion that made me stand at attention. It wasn’t just them. He would do the same to me. That’s how I knew it was wrong, from how it felt. It felt wrong.

  “One night, I found him in my sisters’ room, standing between both of their beds. He had Aubrey’s comforter folded back, peering at her with his fucking cock in his hand. When I saw him reach for her, I ran in and attacked him with everything I had. I was much smaller than him, so it was useless. He grabbed me by my neck and dragged me out of the room. I heard their screams as he yanked me down the hallway, hauling me back into my bedroom and slamming the door behind us…I heard them while it was happening. I focused on them, trying to escape my body.”

  Curled up against Damian, I feel the warmth leave his body. The color drains from his skin. My stomach violently twists into knots until it’s on fire.

  “Damian, did he…?”

  He shuts his eyes and nods his head, unable to look me in the face. A single tear falls from under his lashes, dripping off his cheek. “It hurt so bad. I was being ripped apart.”

  “Hunt, I…” I attempt to hug him, but he stops me, gripping my wrists and holding them firmly.

  “There’s more.” He still won’t look at me. I’ve never seen him so broken, so out of control. “But I’m terrified to tell you.”

  “Babe, you can tell me anything.” I run my fingers through his hair, damp with sweat. “I accept you no matter what it is. Nothing can change what we have between us.” I’ve told him this many times before, but it couldn’t hurt reminding him. Sometimes it’s hard to believ
e anyone could truly accept you unconditionally. But that’s what we have, unconditional acceptance and love. Nothing on earth could alter that.

  He takes in a shaky breath, almost a whimper. “This is different, Elle. This is far worse than anything else I’ve done.”

  I grab his face and force him to look at me. With a desperation, I plead, “Please, Damian, let me inside, let me help you.”

  He moves me off his lap and sets me on the bed, standing and pacing the width of the room. He murmurs to himself, “I knew this day would come.”

  I crawl to the end of the bed and kneel, reaching out for his hand as he passes by. I catch it, halting him in his tracks.

  “Please,” I beg.

  I can’t wait any longer. I need to understand this man, my dominant, always in control husband, the future father of my children. I need to know who I’ve given myself to completely.

  “Not long ago,” he says in a low voice, “he was released from prison for good behavior.” He chortles at this. “How could he misbehave? There were no little children to…” He pauses and squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the pain of talking about his uncle. “He was arrested for a couple charges. He was given a twenty-year sentence, but after only fourteen years, the state deemed him fit to reenter society.”

  I see the rage intensifying in him as he speaks of his molester.

  “What does the fucker do just days after being released? He shows up at Aubrey’s apartment drunk, banging on the door, begging her to let him in, telling her he missed her. She called me crying, hiding in her closet, scared out of her goddamn mind. Her screams triggered something within me, Elle, like the night he first raped me, the terror-filled cries of my sisters as he...”

  He seems to violently shiver at the thought, a nauseated groan rising in his throat.

  “One night, after some planning, I headed over to the halfway house he was assigned to and waited for him outside. I remember everything about it. It was cold, rainy, and eerily still. The air felt thick, like breathing in molasses.