Content Warning: Sexual Situations
Arriving back at my penthouse in New York, I toss my bag onto the coffee table before plopping down. We had a win today but also a loss. Many of my men are injured. Some are dead. It never gets easier. They are mine to protect. They are my team. I should have known better. Fuck…I should have known better.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey, gulping it down before pouring another. As much as I am cold and sarcastic, every loss hurts. I can feel the pain of all those around me in my soul. The only way to mute it is through drinks, sex, and work. Now, being here alone, it pounds against my head.
Placing the glass down, I reach into my bag to grab my phone. I think it is time I take Dominic up on his offer. I let out a heavy sigh as my fingers brush against a piece of paper. My brows knit together as I pull it out. The scroll. The only thing I have ever taken that hasn’t been on my list.
Unfurling the delicate thing, I study the words. Ancient Greek… Wait, how the fuck do I know that? I shake my head, blinking a few times before looking at it again.
The Mousai, also known as the Muses, were the daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne. They were the Goddesses of Music, Dance, Song, Art, and Inspiration. In the Renaissance period, many artists looked to the muses for inspiration, calling on them to help them through difficult times. These nine muses are Calliope, —-, Urania, Thalia, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Euterpe, Erato, Terpsichore. They—
I stop reading, frowning at the one name that is scratched out. Like they didn’t want her to be remembered. I scratch at the paper before it hits me. A flood of images pour into my mind all at once. A man with curly blonde hair. Twins. A young girl with blonde hair that looks a lot like the man. These images smash around my brain, blood dripping from my nose.
As fast as the images appeared, they are gone, leaving me lying on the cold floor. My body is shaking as I push myself up. I wipe the blood from my nose with my sleeve before making my way to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I appear not as myself. My eyes are a kaleidoscope of colours, and my hair is a little lighter than before. I grab my hair, tugging at it.
What is wrong with me?
I pull out my phone, dialing the one person I can talk to. The one person who I may as well let into my life. Dominic.
Dominic arrives thirty minutes after I call. He opens the door without knocking, and as soon as he is in, I run into his arms, holding him tightly. He lifts me into his arms before sitting on the couch. His hand lazily rubs my back, and my cries slowly turn into sniffles.
What is happening to me? I have never been…weak. I have always been able to take care of myself, but right now, being in his arms, I feel at ease. I look up at Dominic, placing my hand on his cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Dominic continues to rub my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, placing my hand on his chest. The two of us stay silent for a moment, and I realize…he hasn’t asked anything of me. He is only comforting me. Why is that such a fucking turn-on? Why am I even thinking of this right now? Fuck, something is wrong with me.
Yet here I am, pressing my lips to his. He tastes like strawberries and honey. The flavor is addicting. His hands tangle in my thick, dark curls before he lays me back on the couch. He slips a hand under my shirt and squeezes my breast. A moan escapes my lips as I arch my back.
Dominic’s lips move to brush against my ear, his voice turning husky. “I am going to take care of you, Chloe. Let go and just feel.”
He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head before his free hand slips into my leggings. His middle finger makes lazy circles around my clit, and a whimper escapes my lips. Never have I allowed someone other than me to be in control. It is strange, but in this moment I submit, allowing Dominic free range on my body.
It lasts for hours. His teasing, his touch. He has me come three times before moving us to my bed. By the end, we are both panting, and my body is dripping with sweat. Exhaustion tugs at me as Dominic pulls me against his chest, and I pass out within seconds.
I wake up alone in my bed. For a moment, it feels like nothing has happened. Then I see his clothes. They are still scattered on the floor and…do I smell bacon? My stomach twists. I shouldn’t have allowed this. Guilt is eating away at me, and I have no idea why. No. I know why. I broke my own fucking rules and allowed someone into my bed. I allowed them to get close to me when I told myself never to allow it.
I need to get out of here.
Slipping out of bed, I make my way into the bathroom. As soon as I look into the mirror, the flashbacks start. A sharp pain runs through my head as the man with blonde hair comes to mind. His mouth is exploring every inch of my body, whispering huskily against my skin that I am his good little girl. It sends a shiver down my spine and it feels right. Not what happened last night, but with him, this dream man.
My eyes shoot open, and I wipe the blood from my nose. I need to get out of here. I need fresh air. After slipping on some black leggings and a shirt, I escape my bathroom. I am heading to the elevator, when he calls out to me.
“Chloe?” Dominic calls out. “Breakfast.”
I ignore it, pressing the button for the elevator.
“Aren? Where are you going?” Dominic asks, and I turn. He is standing there, wearing nothing but his boxers. That isn’t what is bothering me. No, it is the nickname. My nickname, but from the wrong mouth.
“I…I need to…” I stutter, unsure of what I need.
Dominic approaches slowly. “Come eat, Aren. Then I can have mine—”
I shake my head. “Need…need air.”
The elevator dings, and I step back into it. Dominic starts to say something, but the doors close, and I slump against the wall. Something…something isn’t right.