Chapter 3 - Plan Failed

Elena

I couldn’t move nor could I breathe.

Dominic stood there like a punishment sculpted by sin, shirtless and godlike. The low waistband of his pants which was teasing me with his V line looked like it was carved in stone. His chest was glistening faintly in the warm glow of the lamp, making him appear so ravishing. His upper body was hard, veiny and well defined, just like the kind that turns women into sinners.

And right now, I was dangerously close to sinning.

All logic evaporated. My plan to disgust him, to manipulate this marriage into an early grave, crumbled the moment he had begun unbuttoning his shirt. I was supposed to be in control, only me. I was the one trying to seduce him into disgust, but now? Now, I was sitting on the bed with my thighs tightly pressed together, praying he wouldn’t see how wet I was! How desperate I was!

No, Elena. Focus. He is flipping the script. He is using your tactics against you. This is psychological warfare, forced proximity designed to shake your resolve. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t even like you. You are just an unwanted thing in his life which he is trying to get rid of.

I inhaled deeply, making my chest rise and fall with more effort than it should have taken.

“I was just teasing you, husband.” I said, laughing slightly while telling the lie as calmly as I could. “I was trying to break the awkwardness between us. We barely spoke before the wedding so I thought maybe it would help us laugh a little and bond.”

His smirk widened and it was slow and devastating like he could see through the lie without needing to call it out because that would be too easy for him, after all, it was his turn to play the game.

Instead, he moved. One step, then two.

The air around us thickened like fog, getting humid with the tension between us and my anticipation. Every step that he took towards the bed made the knot in my stomach to tighten more. My breath got hitched as the mattress dipped beneath his weight while he got more closer to me. I started moving back until my spine hit the headboard.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I hated how weak I sounded and how small I felt beneath his gaze.

He didn’t answer right away but instead he chose to simply climb over me. His bare chest got so close to mine that I could feel the heat rolling off him in waves. His arms had caged me from either side of my head. I was trapped between the headboard and the man I was supposed to manipulate.

“You called me gay,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Now you are afraid I might prove you wrong?”

“I am not afraid of you,” I whispered while forcing myself not to flinch due to the closeness between us. “You are my husband. Not some stranger.”

“You should be afraid,” he said, voice low enough to melt steel. He moved to graze his nose over mine and that contact felt so intimate and maddening.

His hand started moving down slowly, from my shoulder to grazing the side of my breast then down to my ribs and then stopped at my waist. Every inch his knuckles touched felt like it was being put on fire.

“I know what you are doing,” he continued, his voice a lazy purr. “This little sultry, sex starved performance? It’s adorable but you don’t get to control this marriage. You don’t control me.”

Without any warning, he grabbed me by my hips and flipped me onto my stomach so quickly that I couldn't even do anything. I gasped in shock as my face got pressed into the sheets while his hand slid along the curve of my spine. Then it stopped firmly at my nape, not hurting me but keeping me in place.

My breathing grew shallow. My mind? Blank. Completely blank.

“You want to be the temptress?” he whispered, lips near my ear. “Fine. I will let you play your little game.”

His mouth moved to my shoulder. His kiss was warm, rough, and searing which landed on my skin. Then his teeth scraped along the strap of my bra and tugged at it, making me whimper while my fists clenched the sheets.

He was literally killing me with every brush of his mouth and with every lazy and devastating touch of his hands.

“I can make you beg, Elena,” he growled, my name sounded so goddamn good coming out of his mouth. “but I won’t.”

His hand gripped my ass firmly, kneading the flesh through the lace of my thong and his fingers pressed into me like he owned every inch of me.

“You want me to lose control. You want me to fuck you like an animal so you can pretend you didn’t want it. So you can sleep easy, blaming it all on me.”

I didn’t answer as I couldn’t as I didn't know what to say. My throat got tightened and my body started trembling, not from fear but from wanting his touch.

Then his hand swiftly slid down between my thighs from behind and pressed firmly against my soaked pussy through the delicate fabric.

“You are soaked,” he growled in my ear. “And you think I don’t see right through you? You think I don’t feel how badly your pussy wants me?”

A whimper escaped my lips before I could even stop it as my body betrayed me and arched slightly into his touch, seeking for more.

“I don’t,” I whispered with a trembling voice while my lie fell flat.

“You sure?” he asked, pressing harder.

My breath hitched. My body had arched once again as my instinct took over before reason could fight it. He let out a deep dark chuckle that vibrated through my skin, all over my body.

And then he pulled away, just like that his touch was gone.

The loss of contact left me breathless, cold and aching for more.

I blinked rapidly, unable to function and turned over quickly, only to see him calmly stepping off the bed and already reaching for his shirt.

I sat up slowly while being dazed, flushed and humiliated. My chest started rising and falling in uneven gasps as I was throbbing for a release that he would never give.

He buttoned up his shirt with an unhurried ease, not sparing me a single glance. Not a word. Not a flicker of care.

“That’s the problem with playing games, Elena,” he said, his voice was cool and composed while he adjusted his collar in front of the mirror. “Sometimes the rules change.”

I stared at him with fury flaring hot in my chest. “You are a manipulative bastard.”

His dark eyes met my gaze through the mirror which was gleaming with amusement and something else I couldn’t name. “And you are soaking wet for me.”

The smirk that followed was pure sin.

“Goodnight, wife.”

With that, he just opened the door and walked out simply like nothing had happened, disappearing into the hallway without glancing back once.

I kept sitting in the bed that now smelled like him. My chest still heaving, my body still begging and my pride was shattered.

He was supposed to fall for my trick. He was supposed to be the one getting overwhelmed.

Instead, I was the one who got played very badly. He left me aching and humiliated.

This was war.

And Dominic Moretti had just fired the first, brutal and fucking unforgettable shot.

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