Her hands held onto my head, her fingers tangling in my hair, and when I fisted one handful of her dark mass and tilted her stubborn chin up, she reached to kiss me back, giving as good as she took, biting, her little teeth sharp as I brought my cock to her wet, hot entrance and met her gaze. I pushed into her, to the hilt in one thrust, eliciting a cry of pain from her, her fingers pulling at my hair again. I closed my eyes and kissed her again, moving inside her, her passage tight. She tilted her hips, wrapping both legs around me, and when I opened my eyes again, I found her watching me, her eyes dark and pupils dilated, biting her own lip as her pussy clenched around me, squeezing her pleasure from me. It took all I had to hold on until she released the vice-like grip of her thighs around my waist. I pulled out, my breath tight as I came on her belly, my cock throbbing between us, emptying, and finally, falling heavy on top of her, holding her beneath me, both of us spent, our breathing shallow gasps, her shuddering as I rolled off onto my back, one hand around her wrist, neither of us speaking.

12

Gia

Fuck.

I looked over at him. Dominic watched the ceiling, his breathing slowing down. Sweat covered his brow. His hard and damp tattooed chest rose and fell. I studied the artwork. Intricate drawings in color and black-and-white spanned his right-side upper chest and arm ending just below his elbow. I knew it wrapped around back too. Over his shoulder. I’d glimpsed the edges earlier.

Central to the design was a clock. Three-thirty-three. Heavy chains circled it, and a skull, a grim reaper, trapped a rosary between its grotesque teeth. Beneath it an eye, the blue-like crystal, watched, and around it, intricate dark designs of which I did not know the meanings bordered both clock and reaper. Within these were carved dates. The whole thing gave off a sense of regret. Of time having run out. Of doom and damnation.

Seeing this, the name I’d given him when I hadn’t known his name fit.

Death.

And I’d just fucked him.

Or he’d just fucked me. Hell, we’d fucked each other. He hadn’t had to make me. I’d spread my legs wide and gripped him hard, taking my pleasure from him, liking the taste of him, wanting it. Wanting him. Needing him inside me. Making sure he knew he wasn’t taking anything from me.

I would not be a fucking victim. Not again. Not ever again.

Dominic turned to me, his gaze on my face.

“You fuck like you fight.”