The Scandal You Started, page 24
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whined. “Dominic. Dominic.”
He pressed a licking kiss to her cheek as everything beyond her face blurred. “Give me all your pleasure, my love. Let me feel it around my cock.”
Dominic didn’t move his hand. He let his hard thrusts jerk her against the pads of his fingers, allowing him to focus on keeping the same pace. And it worked. Oh, fuck it worked.
With a shriek that abruptly went silent, Rayna drew as tight as a bowstring down to her toes, arching away from him, nails biting viciously into his nape and wrist, as she crushed his dick in a vicelike grip.
Really, he should have known. Should have realised there would be no way for him to survive or pull out from such blissful devastation.
He barely managed another few erratic thrusts before a fire erupted in his loins and charred all his muscles. Groaning a raw sound of agony into her neck, he emptied his seed inside her. He had no choice but to when her pussy demanded it from him. Every damn drop of it.
Rayna slumped, shaking and limp, in his arms when Dominic finally stopped grinding his pelvis against her. Her leg slipped off his thighs, and he sank against her back, breathing in gulps of the warm, earthy, cherry scent of her skin.
“That…” she mumbled tiredly as she turned her glowing, satiated gaze to him. “Was so fucking worth the wait.”
He huffed an exhausted laugh, his pride grinning within his chest, and laid several slow kisses on her neck and cheek. “I am honoured that you think so too. But it is far from over, darling.” He kissed her parted lips. “In fact, the night has barely begun.”
Chapter 30
Rayna
Rayna stood corrected.
Well…no, actually. She lay shaking, spent, and corrected.
Dominic had said he would need hours to fuck her, and he’d bloody damn exceeded his claimed hours of stamina and kept her up into the early hours of the morning.
She admitted she’d still doubted him after they’d had sex twice in a row. She’d been so sure they’d fall asleep when he’d wiped her down, gathered her in his arms, and then coaxed sigh after satisfied sigh out of her with the softest of kisses.
Right up until he’d rolled her onto her belly and purred in her ear, “Open for me, love.”
She’d shuddered and moaned and ground shamelessly into the mattress as he kissed and whispered along her back, strumming at her clit with two unhurried fingers.
The insatiable oaf had slid into her right as her orgasm ebbed, and bloody fucking woods, she had no idea which fairy of the woods he’d traded his soul to in exchange for his big, fat, magical dick, but she’d never come so hard and so quickly right after another climax before.
At that point, she’d been sure their mattress fun was over for the night.
Except he’d folded her in half and driven her to whimpers with his slow pumping.
Then he’d pressed them chest to chest and stolen another piece of her sanity.
Rayna would have loved to claim the minutes of rest between revived her energy the way it had for Dominic. But sometime during their third time, she’d turned into a moaning, boneless pile of putty in his hands, drugged on the way he did what he wanted to her but still always put her pleasure first. And he hadn’t seemed to care that she hadn’t been reciprocating equally.
In fact, he’d so obviously enjoyed focusing on her pleasure. And gosh, there’d been a deep, overwhelming passion in the way he’d touched her and kissed her and buried himself inside of her that was so much more intense and ruinous than just plain rough.
So it was no surprise when Rayna woke up the next morning with Dominic’s arm thrown over her, she was blissfully exhausted, her muscles aching all over. It was easily fixed under Dominic’s hands as he massaged her with body wash in the shower, followed by a mug of black coffee over breakfast.
Rayna was sipping at the bitter liquid when Dominic, sitting on the other side of the dining table, placed a triangle of toast, slathered in apricot jam Winnie had made, on her empty plate.
“Eat up,” he instructed with a tender smile.
“Dominic, I can’t eat any more,” she grumbled, setting her coffee down on the table.
She pushed the plate across to him, but he stopped it with the pads of his fingers and urged it back towards her. “You have not eaten enough—”
“I’ve eaten more than enough, actually. You already made me eat an extra slice and half of your bloody bowl of fruit. I’m not eating anymore.”
“That is only because you normally have very little breakfast. But that shall not do today.” He picked up the jammed slice from one corner. “You must eat well, and you must eat a lot.”
“Dominic—”
He flashed her a lopsided grin and held the toast before her mouth. “At the very least, have half, and I shall finish the rest. How about that, love?”
A quiet, exasperated growl rumbled in the back of her throat as she glared at him despite the weird, warm realisation fanning through her.
Love.
He’d called her that multiple times now. Darling too. And “my Rayna” earlier.
It seemed his list of endearments had expanded, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Something about the intimacy of them was…foreign. But it picked apart her stubbornness with little flicks of a seam ripper, and it was bloody unacceptable.
Why? Just why? Why did her resolve give way to him so easily?
She didn’t get it. But there wasn’t any part of her that was honestly really annoyed.
Because he was glowing.
Not just his tanned skin, but his playful smile and the warm affection deepening the golden hue of his eyes. There were actual fucking stars sparkling in his aura. He looked refreshed, so much more relaxed and comfortable and happier than he had been in a while.
It made her belly feel…floaty. Satisfied, but it was deeper than satisfaction.
She was happy that he was happy. And that made it impossible to find his insistence on feeding her bothersome.
Sighing in petulant defeat, she snatched the toast from him and tore it in half. It didn’t tear perfectly down the middle; one piece was much bigger than the other. Of course, Dominic swiped the smaller triangle from her fingers before she could offer him the bigger one.
“Dominic,” she grumbled. “That’s not half.”
“It’s very nearly half,” he said playfully and shoved the toast into his mouth.
It very well wasn’t, and she glared harder. But her traitorous mouth edged up. “You’re not doing this again.”
“Doing what?”
“This. Trying to feed me.”
He set his elbows on the table, leaning towards her. “I will feed you. I shall always feed you. With my own hands and from my own plate. That is my privilege as your husband, and you will not deny me, little witch.”
Her jaw stuttered mid-chew as her heart convulsed. But then she recalled a similar joke he’d made in the supermarket, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re not my husband.”
“But I will be.”
The unreadable depth of his stare made her movements slow to stillness.
What the actual fuck is he on about?
“That reminds me.” Dominic sat up straighter. “Where is it possible to purchase a special license? Is it still the city hall?”
Rayna swallowed the chewed lump of toast in her mouth with a cautious pinch between her brows. “A special licence for what?”
His brows dipped as if he didn’t understand her confusion. “Our marriage, Rayna.”
Silence.
A numbing ring echoed within the chamber where her thoughts usually were, but her brain was struggling to compute his words into a code she could process.
Until an imaginary hand slapped the “Enter” button, and abruptly all the mystifying zeros and ones became blaring, thrashing emotions.
Her eyes blew wide as realisation screamed in her ears nearly bursting her drums. Horror clamped around one lung, while rejection squeezed the other, and she choked on stutters and breathy sounds that might have been words if her tongue had cooperated.
Suddenly, Dominic seemed too big and too close, the space between them too small. The remaining toast splatted jam-side down on her plate as Rayna shoved herself back from the table. The wooden legs of her chair squeaked loudly against the floor.
“Excuse me?” she exclaimed. “Our what?”
Dominic’s hand hovered over the table as he narrowed his eyes, searching her face. Then he lowered them to the table, his stare clouding with seriousness.
“We are to marry,” he said firmly, like it was an indisputable fact. “As soon as possible.”
Is he joking? He was joking, wasn’t he? But none of the lines forming his determined expression twitched out of place to suggest he was pulling her leg. And that kicked her panic up a notch.
The run, run, run hammering of her pulse sent her shooting up from her seat. “No, the fuck we are not.”
“Yes, we—Rayna!”
Shaking her head, she stormed away from the table. His fingers just brushed her wrist, but she moved too quickly for him to catch her. She rounded the breakfast bar and swerved to face him from the middle of the kitchen.
He was standing at the table, his shoulders puffed out and hands in fists.
“Are you okay in the head?” she said. “We are not getting married, Dominic.”
His locked jaw pulsed before he placed himself directly opposite her, with the counter creating a barrier between them. “You will marry me, Rayna. You no longer have a choice in the matter after what we did last night.”
“What did we do? Have sex? So what? I’m not marrying you just because we fucked.”
“You should have considered that before you let me spill my seed inside you,” he snapped. “You could be with child, dammit. Do you understand that? And I will not risk you falling with child out of wedlock. No child of mine will ever be a bastard, and I certainly will not leave you unprotected.”
He stood tall and wide like a stubborn, immovable wall. “So we are getting married, Rayna. Today, tomorrow, or by the end of next week at the latest, and nothing you say will sway my decision. You and the child we may have created are my responsibility now.”
Wait, child? What the fuck is he—oh…oh. Oh.
He thought that she could be…that there might have been a chance she…
Some of her anger fizzled out into relief, and her tensed shoulders eased down.
Bloody woods, talk about jumping to conclusions. But his misunderstanding was probably more her fault than it was his.
In her eagerness to ride his dick, she’d completely neglected to consider protection and prevention. Considering he didn’t know she’d already taken precautions, his reaction was understandable. Somewhat.
“I’m not pregnant, you idiot,” she said with an exasperated bite to her words.
“It is too soon for you to know if you have conceived—”
“No, I definitely know I haven’t actually.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke over him. “I have an IUD, Dominic.”
His brows dropped lower. “An IUD?”
“Yes. An IUD. A coil. We spoke about this a few weeks back, remember? Ways to prevent pregnancy. Birth control.” She waited until recognition eased him back in his stance. “I have one inside me.” She tapped her belly with both index fingers. “I have an IUD. So I can’t get pregnant right now. That’s why I let you come inside me.”
Rayna could see him processing what she’d said in his distant stare before he blinked and straightened and rolled his jaw. “So, you are not…”
“No. Not a chance.”
Well…a ninety-nine point something percent chance she wasn’t, but that was more than good enough for her.
Something flickered over Dominic’s face. It dampened the piercing gleam of his gaze, and he appeared almost sad. Disappointed. Dare she say even hurt.
It might have baffled her if the look had lasted longer than a second. But his brows fell low and fierce over his eyes again, and rather than questioning what she’d seen milliseconds prior, she convinced herself it’d been a trick of her mind.
“You should have told me,” he growled.
“Well, it didn’t occur to me because I normally don’t have unprotected sex.”
“Unprotected?”
“Condoms, Dominic. The guys I’ve slept with have always worn condoms.”
And she’d rarely, if ever, told them she had a coil. The one time she had, the guy had jokingly refused to wear a condom, and she’d ended up leaving his uni dorm room. So it hadn’t crossed her mind to tell Dominic either.
At the mention of other men, blazing, red and green flames shrouded the air around him. A dark shadow cast over his face as his jaw muscle pulsed and his shoulders tensed.
It was jealousy. She recognised it instantly. How could she not when it encircled her in two greedy, grasping paws that were trying to keep her and mark her all the same?
She jabbed an angry finger at him. “Don’t look at me like that as if you haven’t slept with other women before me, Dominic, so you don’t get to be jealous of my past.”
He had the decency to glance away, the apple in his throat bobbing. But in that moment of quiet, the absurdity of the situation settled upon her.
Rayna slumped back, puffing out a breath as she shook her head. “Marriage? Seriously? What were you thinking?”
His eyes flashed vividly. “I was thinking about your welfare, Rayna. I was thinking about our child. I wanted to make sure you had my name and protection no matter what, and marriage was the only acceptable answer to that. I could not have allowed anything less. So do not act as if I suggested something foolish, you damned woman.”
“It is foolish, you stupid man,” she snapped back. “I would never ever marry you. And you’re from the fucking past, have you forgotten that?” She shook her head. “You’re not here to stay, Dominic. You’re going back to your own time in less than three months. Why did you even think we could get married in the first place?”
A quiver of renewed panic darted between the rungs of her ribs.
Had Dominic forgotten he had to go back to his own time? Or was he hoping he’d be able to stay in the present? He couldn’t. They wouldn’t let him.
That alarm was quickly followed by a whisper of guilt.
Was this her fault? Had she given him these ideas by getting involved with him?
He’d only end up getting hurt when the POTeM Board told him he had no other choice but to return. And that—
“Why would you never marry me?” Dominic questioned, cutting through her thoughts.
She stared, her jaw slackened in disbelief. Is that all he fucking heard?
“You’re—from—the past,” she said, slow and deliberate. “What part of that do you not understand? How could I marry you? You’re leaving in a few months.”
He stood still and silent, then, “What if I were to stay?”
Rayna’s heart tripped onto the floor.
Fuck. There it was.
He was thinking about staying.
She shook her head, unable to utter anything until it all just came flooding out. “You can’t. Dominic, you can’t. They won’t let you. You have to go back. They’ve never let any Study stay. Ever. So don’t wish for things that aren’t possible. You—”
She cut off on a stifled sound of distress.
Because the words were getting caught, tangling over themselves, until they felt difficult to formulate. It felt uncomfortable voicing them as something akin to unease trembled through her pulse.
He dropped his chin, hiding his face for several moments before lifting his head. Other than a dullness, his expression was entirely unreadable. For the first time, she had no idea what was going on in his head. Couldn’t even attempt to guess either.
“That is not what I mean, sweetheart,” he said as he walked around the breakfast bar towards her. “You have rejected the idea of marriage to me multiple times now. I would like to know why. If it were possible, why would you never marry me?” He towered over her, leaving little space between them. “Why is it that whenever I mention marriage, you behave as though I have threatened you with torture?”
She might have laughed in another situation and said marriage was the same as torture for a woman. Instead, she lengthened her spine. “Because I don’t ever want to get married, Dominic. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
His head reeled back. “Whatever do you mean? You have to marry. It is a part of life.”
Oh, here we go.
She grunted and rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t, and no, it’s not. It’s a societal construct created by men to trap and control women. It’s historically been used as a weapon to suppress women and own them like property, while giving them little to no rights or freedom.
“And it’s still not that different. Now women have their freedom by law, but some men still use and abuse their wives. Or they marry because they’re so incompetent that they’re just looking for someone to care for them like a fucking child. Oh, and let’s not forget how men have throughout history been known and encouraged to break their vows of fidelity. So what’s the point of marriage then if it holds no significance anyway?
“It’s sold to women as this wonderful happily ever after they should look forward to, but all it really is is a prettily packaged form of abuse.”
Dominic’s mouth hung open by the time Rayna ended her mini-monologue.
Then he bristled, his feathers ruffling like he was personally affronted by what she said. “That is not what marriage is.” She scoffed again, and his shoulders stiffened. “It is not. Marriage is about care and protection and responsibility. It is about—”
“Protection from what exactly? What do I need protecting from, huh? Lions, and tigers, and bears? Not that a man would win against them anyway.”
“Not in that sense, but security—”
She chuckled and threw her hands out. “And there it is. Security. The thing that men have historically withheld from women by not allowing them their own money, limiting their education, shaming them for doing the exact same things men do, and preventing them from being in the same spaces. And then they had the absolute audacity to go, ‘Marry me and I’ll give you security,’ as if they didn’t purposely create an environment where women felt unsafe so that they had no choice but to rely on a man, and therefore ended up under his control.”
