All Chapters of Her Sweetest Mistake [Dark Erotica]: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

Dominic exhaled slowly, the sound almost breaking. “You saw me hours ago.”“That’s not what I meant.”A long pause.“I know,” Dominic said softly.Now the silence wasn’t heavy with hesitation. It was charged with recognition—of the truth they both knew but avoided.“I keep thinking about earlier,” Eli said, voice barely above a breath. “What we did.”“What we were always going to do,” Dominic corrected.That hit Eli hard, a punch in the gut he didn’t want but needed.Eli fell back onto the bed, the phone pressed tight to his ear. “Were we?” he asked. “Or did we just… finally stop pretending?”Dominic laughed under his breath, bitter and low. “I stopped pretending a long time ago. You just weren’t ready to hear it.”There it was again—that edge beneath Dominic’s voice, that buried hurt neither of them dared speak aloud.“I was a kid,” Eli said, voice shaking.“I know.”“You were—”“Older. Responsible. Meant to be reasonable. Supposed to be your father’s friend, not…” Dominic’s voice

“That’s what makes this worse.”“No. That’s what makes this real.”They sat in silence again, the air crackling around them.“I hate sneaking around,” Dominic admitted.“Then don’t.”Dominic turned to look at him. “You want to tell him?”Eli thought about it—about his father’s face, his silence, the sharp way he stared when Eli disappointed him.“No,” Eli said. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”Dominic nodded once, slowly. “Then what do we do?”Eli met his eyes. “We figure it out. One day at a time.”That night, Eli didn’t go home.He followed Dominic back to his make shift apartment—a small second-floor place above an old bookstore. The walls were lined with old photographs of celebrities he adored and some architectural wonders. On the other side of the room laid some paintings Dominic had made. The place smelled like paint thinner and aftershave. It wasn’t tidy, but it felt lived in.They didn’t rush.There was no tearing of clothes, no breathless urgency. Just touch. Slow. Intentional.

The knock on Dominic’s door came just past midnight.He’d told Eli to wait until morning. Thought he’d have more time to rehearse what he needed to say—truths he’d never voiced out loud, wounds he’d sealed shut and buried deep. But of course Eli didn’t wait.Of course he came now, when the night was thick and quiet, when there was no audience but the dark.Dominic opened the door and there he was—hood up, hair damp from the rain, mouth slightly parted like he’d been holding his breath the whole way over.“You said no hiding,” Eli said, voice low, fierce.Dominic stepped back without a word, letting him in.The apartment was dim. Just a lamp on in the corner, casting long shadows. Dominic watched as Eli peeled off his jacket and dropped it over the arm of the couch like he’d done it a hundred times. Like this was home.He stood still, waiting.Dominic took a breath. Sat down. The words didn’t come easy.Eli didn’t press. Just dropped onto the couch beside him and sat close—not touching

Before everything—before the longing and the nights tangled in sheets, before the texts and the ache of distance—there was just a boy and two men, both he loved and a quiet house too big for grief.Eli was a few weeks away from twelve the year his mother died.She had been light. That was the only way to describe her—light in motion, in laughter, in the way she entered a room like the sun slipping through a window crack. Her presence made the ordinary feel sacred. She hummed while making breakfast, left little notes in Eli’s books, and had a way of knowing when he was lying without ever saying so. She was the presence he resented sometimes yet still wanted to feel.She wore garden gloves more than jewelry, smiled with her whole face, and had a laugh that made the neighbors pause mid-conversation just to hear it. She loved Eli with a kind of devotion that made him feel like the axis of her world—and in many ways, he was.And then, in one cruel, swift winter, she was gone.It wasn’t a

That night, they cooked together.Eli chopped vegetables while Dominic manned the stove. It was domestic in a way that almost hurt—too easy, too perfect, like slipping into a life that didn’t belong to them.“You’re terrible at slicing peppers,” Dominic said, watching the mess Eli was making.“I’m not here to be judged. I’m here to be loved.”Dominic shook his head, grinning. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”Eli blushed as Dominic stepped back to slap his buttocks playfully. “You really don't know how complete i feel around you. Like this moment should last forever. I want you literally all the time.” Eli fantasized. “You're going too fast.” “I know but sometimes I dream about us_ You and I with our cute daughter. I dream about when we wouldn't always have to hide. When I wouldn't feel like a disappointment to my father once I let him know my sexuality. I dream of when we get married, standing in a garden with well wishers and we exchange our vows to be together forever. When we w