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The pheromones were surging through my body, igniting me with a desire that threatened to consume me. I would need at least two or three suppressants to completely soothe the raging fire within me, an amount that wasn’t recommended, but one I had grown accustomed to during my stay with the Davenport brothers.
In the early days of our marriage, I had been so fearful of their touch, so terrified of the power they held over me, that I had resorted to taking higher doses of suppressants just to keep my heat at bay. It was a dangerous game, one that could have had severe consequences, but at the time, it seemed like the only way to maintain some semblance of control over my own body.
Dominic seemed to read the lingering hunger in my eyes. His gaze never left mine as he opened the pill bottle once more. With deliberate movements, he plucked another suppressant from the container and brought it to his lips. But this time, he didn’t lean in to kiss me. Instead, he watched me expectantly, the pill resting on his tongue, his piercing eyes locking me captive as he waited, a silent challenge hanging in the air between us.
I knew this game well—a ritual of power and control that we’d played countless times. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a power play that both thrilled and terrified me. Dominic’s control over me extended beyond the physical; it seeped into every aspect of my being, from the way I breathed to the way my body responded to his presence.
Desperate for the pill, I shifted my weight and straddled his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips as I pressed myself flush against him. His lips curved into the barest hint of a satisfied smile, a silent acknowledgment of my submission to his game. I leaned in until our faces were mere inches apart, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath fanning across my skin.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer still, my body trembling with want, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape. Our lips brushed, a tantalizing caress that held the promise of relief. I pressed harder, my mouth seeking entrance, desperate to claim the pill he held between those firm, unyielding lips. I could taste the bitterness of the suppressant on his tongue, so tantalizingly close yet frustratingly out of reach as his lips remained firmly sealed.
Dominic remained steadfast, his jaw set in a display of dominance that only fanned the flames of my desire. A low whimper escaped me as I worked to coax his lips apart, my tongue seeking the pill that would grant me a reprieve from the raging fire within, silently pleading for him to relent, to grant me the mercy of the suppressant.
His hands found my waist, gripping me with a possessive strength that both anchored and ignited me. I arched into his touch, my hips rocking against him in a wordless entreaty. My tongue traced the seam of his lips, coaxing, imploring, until finally—blissfully—they parted.
I surged forward, plundering his mouth with a fervor that bordered on frenzy. Our breaths mingled, hot and ragged, as our tongues danced, twisting and twining in a heated duel as I sought out the precious pill. The taste of him, rich and heady, flooded my senses, momentarily distracting me from my goal.
And then, at last, I felt it—the smooth surface of the suppressant against my questing tongue. With a surge of relief, I claimed my prize, swallowing it down greedily. I should have pulled away then, should have retreated to my side of the limousine to regain my composure. But Dominic had other plans. His hand fisted in my hair, holding me in place as his lips claimed mine once more.
This kiss was different—hungry, demanding, an assertion of his dominance that left no room for denial. He ravished my mouth with a ferocity that stole all coherent thought, his tongue plundering, claiming, until I was dizzy and breathless. His free hand roaming over the curves of my body with possessive fervor, igniting sparks of pleasure that mingled with the lingering heat of my suppressed desire. I melted against him, my body molding to his as he consumed me with his kiss.
I clung to him, adrift in a storm of sensation, powerless against the onslaught of his possession. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt as I surrendered to the maelstrom of his touch, his scent, his taste.
When he finally released me, I was utterly undone. My lips were swollen from the kiss, my body trembling with the aftershocks of desire. Boneless and spent, I collapsed against his chest, my cheek resting over the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Dominic’s arms encircled me, a steel band of possession that held me close, even as the haze of euphoria began to fade. In that moment, I was his—wholly and completely, a willing captive to the depth of our connection.
dominic
Dominic stepped out of the car, the crisp London air momentarily stealing the warmth from his skin. He didn't pause to take in the scene, his tall frame striding purposefully across the tarmac toward the private jet, its silver body gleaming under the late morning light. Sam and three other assistants, all moving with rehearsed urgency, trailed behind him, a flurry of hushed tones following in their wake.
Inside the jet, luxury enveloped Dominic. The interior boasted seats upholstered in supple leather that seemed to anticipate and conform to one's body. Polished mahogany panels lined the walls, while soft carpeting muffled every step. Ambient lighting cast a warm glow across the cabin, and a bar stood stocked with crystal decanters filled with top-shelf spirits. He took his usual seat by the window, its spacious design allowing him to stretch out his legs.
As the plane lifted off, Dominic opened his laptop and started working through the endless stream of emails. But even as he scrolled through financial reports and market projections, his mind wandered to Asa. Her delicate features floated before his eyes—her porcelain skin almost translucent under the soft glow of their master suite’s chandelier, her platinum hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders.
The image of her dancing in their private quarters seeped into his thoughts; Asa's fluid movements told stories without words, her eyes closed as if lost in another world where only music existed. The memory of her voice enveloping him in a cocoon of melody made his heart ache with a possessive longing that no distance could diminish.
Hours later, when the jet's wheels touched down on American soil, the sharp vibration of his phone snapped Dominic out of his reverie. It was Xavier.
“Dom, I'm sorry, but Asa's gone. I knew this would happen.”
Dominic's grip on the phone tightened, knuckles blanching white. “What about her guards?”
“Marco and his men are on-site, waiting for further instruction. What do you want to do?”
“Bring her back, of course.”
“But…” Xavier's voice trailed off.
Dominic sensed his brother's reluctance—a fear that retrieving Asa might only cage her spirit further. But Dominic couldn't entertain such thoughts, not when every fiber of his being screamed to have her safe by his side.
“I'm bringing her back. Text me the location.”
There was a heavy sigh from Xavier before he complied. “All right.”
The line went dead as Dominic ended the call, his jaw set in a hard line. He would have Asa back; nothing else mattered now.
The phone vibrated, a sharp ding cutting through the hum of the jet's engine winding down. A message from Xavier flashed on the screen, a set of coordinates that sent a pulse of urgency through his veins. He didn't hesitate, his thumb scrolling over the text to commit the address to memory.
