Why Dominic Fike Lyrics Novels & Stories

They were intoxicated by each other's scent. "Do you always do what you are asked not to?" Dominic suddenly spoke up with a blank look on his face. He didn't know what he was doing here. He didn't know why he came here but he just came. He was supposed to go to a peaceful place and find some peace there. Then why did his legs bring him here? To her. Being near her brought him anything but peace. She was the reason for his restlessness and messed up state. But there he was, with her in his arms.

Building me up, backing off, driving me insane. “Please—” “Please what?” He slid two fingers inside me. “Use your words, Princess.” “Make me come.” “Not yet.” He curled his fingers. Hit that spot. “You come when I say you can.” Footsteps in the hallway. I froze. Dominic didn’t stop. Kept licking, kept pumping his fingers. His eyes locked on mine. Stay. Quiet. The footsteps passed. “You’re trying to get us killed,” I breathed. He pulled his fingers out. Brought them to my mouth. “Suck.”

Dominic grumbled. "Then be more specific…" "How did Fuck did you find us?" Dominic's voice Thundered. Hearing the cuss in his words, Forsyth grinned. "Although I don't like you, you seem more fun and free than the other you." "Don't be confused by his cool and always-in-control temper, he's worse than me," Dominic said. "Noted. But Nah, I think I like you best." Forsyth said again and grinned. "But I don't think you'd like what I'm about to do," Dominic said and gradually slid his fingers up to Marleen's neck. His finger wrapped her fragile neck and he looked at Forsyth.

In the oversized linen shirt Tess had scrounged, he looked like a statue carved from obsidian and starlight. "Wow," Tess breathed, her eyes widening as she shamelessly scanned the hard lines of his chest beneath the fabric. She marched right up to him, a mischievous, defiant glint in her eyes. "You are quite the specimen, aren't you? What’s your name? And more importantly... can you be my man already?" Dominic let out a rare, low chuckle a sound so rich it felt like a physical touch. "My name is Dominic. And I think I’m a bit too much trouble for you, little one."

How much I wanted it. By the eighth, I couldn’t tell if I was wet from tears or from the aching heat building between my legs. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his tone unreadable. Not mocking. Not concerned. Just curious, like he was pulling me apart on purpose. “Because I—I don’t know,” I choked, my voice catching in my throat. “I think you do,” Dominic said, stepping closer. “I think you like it. Don’t you?” I squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed of the answer trying to claw out of my mouth.

"You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy And I know in my heart hurt people hurt people And we both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily? And I say I don't care, I say that I'm fine But you know I can't let it go I've tried, I've tried, I've tried for so long It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong" The song continued to play and I looked away sharply, suddenly aware that my eyes had gone hot. Dominic noticed immediately. Of course he did. He had that irritating, predatory awareness that made it impossible to hide anything obvious for long. He glanced at me once, then a

Cierra's POV I watched the man who was meant to be my saviour walk away, his back disappearing into the noise and lights of the club. The space he left behind felt louder than the music itself. And just like that, I was alone with the one man I never wanted to see again. I hissed, my fingers curling into the edge of the table. “No. Not again,” I muttered, then louder, sharper, “Why are you so obsessed with me?” Dominic scoffed and calmly took the empty chair beside mine, unbothered by the venom in my voice. He sat like he owned the place...like he owned me.

“You have a past that’s finally caught up to you. Now, get out before I stop being polite.” Félix looked at Dominic. “Dom, why is the monster sad?” “Because he has no home, champ. And no cookies. Not a single one.” “What a fool,” Félix sighed. “I have cookies under my pillow.” Dominic looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes that went beyond partnership. It was pride—dense, solid respect for the woman who had survived the storm. “Carolina, take him next door. Give him two cookies,” I commanded.

The contrast between Romano Senior's genuine kindness and this man's obvious disdain was jarring. "Don't mind him," Romano Senior murmured, having noticed the exchange. "Some people find it difficult to embrace change. Focus on what matters—today is about you and Vito." The music began—Pachelbel's Canon in D, played by a full string quartet—and the cathedral doors opened fully. As we began our procession down the seemingly endless aisle, I tried to focus on the beauty around me rather than the weight of so many stares. I don't care that he can't walk, I realized with sudden clarity. I don't care that he can't see.

Let’s not even talk about how toned his thighs looked under those black fitted jeans. His skin was perfectly sun-kissed, clear from any flaw. His dark, dirty blond hair had the haircut given to new recruits in the armed force. A small tattoo carved his left eyebrow, it was so small that I barely saw it. It looked like fire, small inked fire. It was then that it clicked. Grace’s words -or should I say, Mia- repeating themselves. This Dominic is the same Dominic that saved her that night at the nightclub. The same Dominic that helped her escape and the same one that Xander thought was dead.