Addiction

Alexa’s POV

“Then don’t stop,” Dominic whispered against my ear. “You’re mine now, Alexa. And I take care of what’s mine.”

His words sank into me like warm honey, thick and dangerous. I should have pulled back, told him this was spiraling too fast, but instead I kissed him harder, letting the guilt drown under another wave of heat. We ended up on the couch that night, clothes half-off, his mouth between my legs until I was shaking and whispering his name like a secret prayer. When he finally slid inside me, slow and deep, I clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in my world.

The next few days blurred into a haze of stolen touches and locked doors. I tried to go back to normal—attending my online classes, answering texts from friends—but every moment away from him felt wrong. Dominic worked from his home office, but he never stayed there long. He’d find me in the kitchen, in the living room, even once in the laundry room, pressing me against the dryer with his hand over my mouth so the housekeeper wouldn’t hear.

By the fourth day I stopped pretending I wanted to stop.

I woke up in his bed again, naked and sore in the best way, sunlight warming my skin. Dominic was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with that dark, steady gaze.

“Morning,” I said, voice husky.

“Morning, beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed me, slow and thorough, like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid down my body, cupping my breast, thumb brushing the nipple until it peaked. “Sleep well?”

“Too well.” I arched into his touch. “I keep thinking I should feel worse about this.”

“Do you?” His fingers dipped lower, teasing between my legs where I was already wet for him.

I shook my head, biting my lip. “Not when you touch me like that.”

He smiled, dark and satisfied, and rolled on top of me. We moved together without urgency this time—lazy, deep strokes that built slowly until I came with a soft cry, nails digging into his back. He followed right after, groaning my name against my neck.

Afterward, we stayed tangled in the sheets. I traced the faint scratch marks I’d left on his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to hide those,” I murmured.

He chuckled. “Worth it.”

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I ignored it at first, but it kept going. When I finally checked, it was Ethan—somehow he’d messaged from a new number. Alexa, please. I know something’s wrong. Let me see you. I love you.

I showed Dominic the screen. His jaw flexed, but he kept his voice calm.

“He’s persistent. I’ll handle it.”

“How?” I asked, a flicker of unease cutting through the afterglow.

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t bother you again.” He took the phone from my hand and set it aside, then pulled me back against his chest. “You don’t need to worry about him. Or anyone else.”

The possessiveness in his tone should have set off alarms. Instead it sent a thrill through me. I liked being protected. I liked being wanted this fiercely. It was nothing like Ethan’s careless affection.

We spent the morning in bed, then moved to the shower where he took me against the tiles, water cascading over us. I came twice before we even got out. By the time we were dressed and eating lunch, I was floating, guilt pushed so far back it felt like someone else’s problem.

In the afternoon I tried to study, but Dominic found me at the dining table. He didn’t say a word—just pulled my chair back, dropped to his knees, and pushed my skirt up. His mouth was relentless. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to stay quiet, but failed completely. When I finally came, trembling, he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed me so I could taste myself on his tongue.

“You’re dripping for me even when you’re trying to focus,” he murmured against my lips. “Addictive little thing.”

I laughed breathlessly, pulling him closer. “You’re the one who keeps starting it.”

“Can’t help it.” His hands squeezed my thighs. “Been starving for you for years. Now that I have you, I’m not holding back.”

The confession sent heat rushing through me again. I slid off the chair and onto my knees in front of him, returning the favor until he was cursing and threading his fingers through my hair. When he came, I swallowed every drop, feeling powerful and filthy and perfect.

That evening we cooked dinner together, laughing over nothing, stealing kisses between chopping vegetables. It felt almost normal—like we were a real couple instead of a dirty secret. But every time I remembered Mom’s empty chair at the table, the guilt tried to creep back in.

After dinner we curled up on the couch to watch a movie. Halfway through, his hand slipped under my shirt again, teasing until I was grinding against his thigh.

“Dominic,” I gasped. “The movie—”

“Fuck the movie.” He pulled me onto his lap, freeing himself from his pants. I sank down onto him with a moan, riding him slow and deep while the TV flickered in the background. His hands guided my hips, eyes locked on mine.

“Look at me while you come,” he ordered softly.

I did. The orgasm hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I whispered his name over and over. He thrust up into me, chasing his own release, groaning as he spilled inside.

We stayed connected, foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged.

“I can’t get enough of you,” I admitted, voice small. “It’s like I’m addicted.”

“Good.” He kissed me gently. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

Later that night, as we lay in his bed again, my phone lit up with another unknown number. I ignored it, but Dominic noticed.

“Ethan?” he asked.

“Probably.” I nestled closer. “Doesn’t matter. I blocked the old one.”

He hummed in approval, stroking my hair. “If he keeps trying, I’ll make sure he understands.”

The casual threat sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed it away. Dominic had always been protective. This was just… more. And I liked it. God, I liked it too much.

I woke sometime after midnight, thirsty. Slipping out of bed, I went downstairs for water. My reflection in the dark kitchen window stared back at me—flushed cheeks, messy hair, eyes too bright. I looked like a girl who had been thoroughly fucked by her stepfather for days.

Guilt tried one more time to surface, whispering that this was going to explode in our faces. Mom would be home in less than two weeks. Ethan wasn’t giving up. And every time Dominic touched me, I fell a little deeper.

I drank the water and headed back upstairs. Dominic was awake when I returned, sitting up against the headboard, watching me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

I crawled back into bed and straddled his lap without answering. He hardened instantly beneath me.

“Neither could I,” I whispered, sinking down onto him again.

He groaned, hands gripping my ass as I started to move. “That’s my girl.”

We fucked slow and quiet in the dark, chasing pleasure like it could silence every warning in my head. When we came together, I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not Mom. Not Ethan. Not the future.

Just him.

Just this addiction I never wanted to quit.