CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A fter he finished dinner at Wyatt’s, Dom bid his son goodnight, then headed home.

But the empty house just fed his curiosity and need to see Chloe again.

He was pathetic.

He also didn’t care.

At ten fifteen, he headed down to the pub. He didn’t need a reason to stop into his own bar. He could do what he wanted. He was the boss after all. Something Chloe felt the need to remind him of whenever possible. At least, she reminded him with her eyes—and her distance.

The parking lot was pretty full. Most of the vehicles Dom recognized. The Sewing Circle ladies were gone though. He exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to give those biddies any more fuel for their gossip train.

He took a seat at the bar, snagging Logan’s eyes just as he sat down. Logan finished up with a customer, then made his way down the bar to Dom. “Hey, cuz. What can I get you?”

“I’d like to know why the big boss man is wasting his night off here,” Renée asked with a cheeky eyebrow lift as she sidled up beside Dom to the POS, punching in an order.

“Because it’s his bar and he can do as he wants,” Logan replied, earning a stuck-out tongue from Renée.

“I’ll have two ounces of the Pecker Rye on ice,” Dom said, jerking his chin in the direction of the Hardwood Distillery spirit on the middle shelf.

Logan simply nodded and got to work fixing the drink.

Hardwood Distillery was owned by four single fathers whose daughters all played soccer together. They bonded over their love of spirits, and ultimately decided to quit their jobs and open up their own distillery while also all moving to the island. Along with the tongue-in-cheek name “Hardwood,” they named all their spirits something equally cheeky. Pecker Rye had a picture of a woodpecker on it. Then there was Boner Dry Gin, Thick Shaft Bourbon, Iron Bar Whiskey, and one of Dom’s favorites, Big Cock Vodka—which, of course, had a picture of a rooster on it. They were also working on—but it wasn’t ready for market yet—the five-year-old, single malt Impressive Manhood Scotch. The distillery was very popular and the guys made a killing within their first year of production, quickly outgrowing their warehouse. Which was why they were after Bonn Remmen’s land.

Logan slid the double-shot across the bar to Dom. “Everything okay?”

Dom took a sip of the whiskey and let it slowly slide down his throat. There was no burn from the smooth spirit. Just lovely notes of caramel and apples. It was subtle, but addictive. He set down the glass. “Where’s Chloe?”

“She went home. Things slowed down enough and she was exhausted.” Logan’s eyes turned wary. “That’s okay, right? I mean, she mentioned it to me in front of you earlier. We took that as you being okay with it.”

Dom swallowed and shoved down his disappointment at her not being there. “Yeah, it’s fine. How’s the night been?”

Logan nodded. “Good. I mean, last night was bumping, but tonight has been steady.”

Dom tossed back the rest of his whiskey and was about to stand up and head out when the door opened. Laughter accompanied by what had to be around a dozen guys, all poured into the bar.

Shock and terror filled Logan’s face. They weren’t staffed for rowdy men who had to already be into their cups.

“Hey!” one of the guys shouted. “We missed our ferry. Any chance we can get a round of drinks?”

The rest of the group, still laughing, started pushing tables together and pulling out chairs.

Dom sucked in a deep breath through his nose and stood up. “Sure thing,” he said to the guy that appeared to be the ringleader. “But I’ve gotta ask, where were you before here?”

“Hardwood,” the man replied. “We meant to get here sooner, but we had to sober up before we could drive.” Then he put one guy who was already sitting down in a headlock. “We’re celebrating this guy getting married next weekend.”

Ah. A bachelor party.

They didn’t get many of those into the pub. It was usually bachelorette parties that came to the island, but some bachelor parties came to hit up the distillery, brewery, and either go hiking or mountain biking. These guys struck Dom as avid mountain bikers. He just had an eye for such things.

“Where are you guys staying?” Dom asked.

The guy released the groom-to-be and shrugged. “Dunno. We didn’t expect to be stuck here.”

“Yeah, fucking ferry,” another guy hollered. “What the hell? Now we’re trapped here on this hippy rock with our bikes and no where to sleep.”

Called it. The were cyclists.

Hmm .

“Hang on,” Dom said, pulling out his phone. He turned to Logan. “They can have one drink each, then they’re cut off. I’m going to see if Hawke has room at the hostel.”

Logan nodded. “That’s a good idea. I was going to suggest the cabins but—”

Dom shook his head, his eyes wide as he found Hawke’s number.

“Yeah, no. I wouldn’t want those hooligans in my cabins either.”

That made Dom snort. “ Hooligans ? How old are you, Grandpa? I’m surprised you didn’t call them hoodlums .”

Logan huffed a laugh. “They’re not wearing hoods. They can’t be hoodlums.” Then he went to work filling up pitchers of beer as Dom put his phone to his ear and stepped into the kitchen.

“Hello?” came the deep, familiar rumble of Hawke Taylor.

“Hawke, it’s Dom. You got room at the inn?”

“More than I’d like,” Hawke said glumly. “Why? What’s up?”

Dom quickly explained the situation, and Hawke was even faster to agree. He even offered to come with his shuttle bus and pick everyone up, since none of them seemed in any condition to drive, and probably shouldn’t have driven to the pub from the distillery. Dom would be calling the guys at Hardwood tomorrow to let them know his opinion on things and the fact that they let these men leave and drive when they clearly were in no condition to do so.

He ended the call with Hawke, then re-entered the bar to give the bachelor party the good news.

“Wow, what service,” the man who had since identified himself as the best man and guy in charge, said. “Thank you.” He shook Dom’s hand. “Just for that, we’ll have another round.” He hollered at Logan to get his attention. “Ahoy, young man! Another round of your finest ale, please and thank you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted to Dom. Dom shook his head slightly, then turned back to the best man. “Actually, your ride will be here shortly. But we appreciate your appreciation. So, just finish the round you all have now, and Hawke will be here to pick you up and take you to the hostel.”

Thankfully, the best man didn’t seem put out by having his libations effectively cut off. They all just appeared happy that they wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor at the ferry terminal.

Within fifteen minutes, Hawke lumbered his broad, burly frame through the pub doors.

“Jesus, Mary, and Santa Claus,” the best man said, “you’re fucking massive. Do you know you’re fucking massive?”

“Wait, you mean, I’m not a five foot two ballerina?” Hawke asked with a shit-eating grin.

The best man lobbed a big, obnoxious laugh at Hawke, but stood up. “Men! Move out. Our ride is here.”

Like well-trained soldiers, the bachelor party stood up and filed out. The best man was the last to leave since he had to pay the tab—and holy shit, the tip he left was nothing short of generous.

For as sideways as that could have gone, it went surprisingly well.

Dom saw them out and into the shuttle. “Thanks, Hawke.”

Hawke gave a two-finger salute. “No, thank you . We’re suffering because of what happened to Chloe—and Ginny. So this helps.”

Dom nodded and watched the red taillights disappear down the laneway, then vanish when the shuttle turned onto the main road. Two big Chevy Suburbans were parked in the parking lot, each decked out with enormous bike racks and very pricey mountain bikes. He counted twelve bikes altogether. The bikes would be safe here. But just to be doubly sure, he went back into the pub to make sure all the security cameras were working properly.

“Well, that could have been a shit show,” Renée said, placing all the empty beer glasses on her round tray. “When I saw them all come in, and realized they’d already been drinking, my stomach dropped.”

Dom’s head bobbed as he started helping her and Logan push apart tables and tuck in chairs. “Mine too. But it just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving and—”

“Kindness goes a long way?”

“I was going to say, you need to handle drunks with a firm hand, but yeah, that too.”

Renée made an amused noise at the back of her throat. “He’s in here all the time, but no matter how many times I see Hawke, I’m always shocked by just how freaking big that guy is.” She shook her head. “I bet he’s bigger than a Smart Car.”

Dom rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Hawke would love to hear you speculating about his weight.”

“I didn’t say weight ,” she argued. “But yeah, I bet he weighs more than a Smart Car.”

Rolling his eyes again, Dom left Renée to clean up the rest, then he went back to his barstool and brought up the security feed on his phone to make sure all the cameras were working. Ever since what happened to Vica in August, they had quadrupled the number of cameras not only outside the pub, but inside and on the surrounding property as well. Not an inch of space had a blind spot anymore.

He checked each and every camera, finally coming to the cash room.

His dick twitched a little at the memory of the last time he’d been in that cash room—and with whom.

Then he remembered—it was on film.

Holy shit.

And his brothers could access it too. Fuck. How could he have been so fucking stupid as to let that video footage stay in the cloud for so long? Did any of his brothers watch it?

He scrolled through the archived videos until he found the date of their encounter . Dear god, that word just made it sound dirtier. It was almost as bad as the word “moist .” He shuddered at the thought of the word “moist.” He didn’t even have to say it out loud for it to give him the heebie-jeebies.

Then he found it.

Glancing around, he made sure the servers, guests, and Logan were busy doing their own thing, and he was about to hit play when reality smacked him in the face like a wet washcloth. He couldn’t watch that right there. What was he thinking?

Taking his phone to the very cash room on the video, he leaned against the counter, shut the door, and hit play.

While he wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, although when he was with her it was hot as fuck, he kind of expected things on the video to be awkward.

They were not.

They were just as hot on film as they were in real life.

He’d been rough with her. Pinning her hand to the small of her back. But she seemed to enjoy it. She seemed into it. Then he went there with the dirty talk too. But she responded to that like she was into it as well. And when they couldn’t even get out of the room without round two, surely that had to mean something?

By the time he’d watched the film from beginning to end, twice, his cock was uncomfortably swollen in his jeans and his pulse raced.

A knock at the door made him jump. “Dom?” It was Renée.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his pants as best he could. “Yeah?”

“You okay in there? I was going to cash out, but I can come back.”

He deleted the video from the cloud, then opened the door, hoping his cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. “Sorry. All good. The room is yours.” He cleared his throat again, avoiding eye contact with Renée.

“Everything okay?” she asked, standing on the threshold between the hallway and the cash room door.

“Everything’s fine. Have a good night.”

“You too …”

He booked it back out to the front. “Gonna head out. You good here?” he asked Logan, his words seeming to race out of his mouth with an alarming urgency.

Logan gave him a curious look and puppy-like head tilt. “Yeah … we’re good. Are you good?”

“I’m fine. Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

“Maybe because you’re acting sketchy?”

Dom leveled his cousin with a glare. “Just remember to bring in the specials board. Someone left it out last night.” Then he took off out the front door and into the pouring rain.

But he didn’t go home.

He should have.

He really should have marched right up the hill, through his front door, upstairs, and into the shower to relieve the throbbing in his jeans. He didn’t.

Like an idiot, already dripping wet, and not thinking with even one brain cell, he turned left instead of right, and walked past Cabins One, Two, and Three until he came to stand in front of Cabin Four.

Chloe’s Volvo was parked in the small parking spot and her porch light was on. The drapes were closed. However, there was a sliver of light peeking out at the end of one window where the curtains had been pulled closed too far, giving him hope that she was still awake.

Swallowing, he ignored all the voices telling him to turn around, and approached the front door. His knuckles against the wet, solid wood sent vibrations coursing through him. All the way to his toes. He was sure his brothers all knew what he was up to. Even through the torrential rain they could probably hear the knock.

He needed to turn around and leave. This was a bad idea.

He was her boss.

She told him no.

Counting to five in his head, as the rain dripped off the tip of his nose, he shut his eyes and clenched his fists. If she didn’t open the door by the time he got to five he was going to leave.

One …

Two …

Three …

Four …

The knob turned and the door swung open, the soft light from inside nearly blinded him. But it was the vision in front of him in a pair of navy-blue, silky pajama shorts and a matching tank top, with lace trim along the neck and hem, that really blinded him.

“Dom?”

Her wet, dark-red hair was in a braid starting at the nape of her neck, and cascading over her shoulder, and her face was rosy and makeup-free.

He stepped forward and cupped her face, taking her mouth.

She was stunned and gripped his wrists, so he pulled away.

She blinked at him. “I …”

“Tell me to leave. Tell me that you don’t want this. That you don’t want me, and I swear to God, I’ll leave you alone. But if there’s even an ounce of you that wants me as badly as I want you …” His chest heaved as he stared into her mesmerizing blue-green eyes.

“Dom, I …” Confusion swam in her gaze as it flitted back and forth across his face.

“Tell me to go, Chloe.”

For a heartbeat, he thought she was actually going to tell him to leave, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him inside. “Don’t go.”

Kicking the door closed behind him, he backed her up toward her bedroom, then gently guided her down to the bed. She sat back up and reached for the hem of his soaking wet shirt. He tore it off, and she went for the button and zipper of his jeans, but he stilled her hands, closing his fingers around hers.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long,” he rumbled, the rasp of his voice surprising him. Pink slashed across her cheeks as he placed his palm in the center of her chest and slowly pushed her down to her back. Then he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her pajama shorts and pulled them over her thighs, revealing her bare pussy.

He also finally got to see the tattoo he’d spied when she first started. An adorable little daisy, done in watercolor style on her hipbone. It was no bigger than a silver dollar, but he ached to kiss it. To run his tongue over it.

Saliva filled his mouth.

Dropping to his knees, he lifted up her right leg and started at her ankle, swirling his tongue around, kissing the inside, then up her calf, over her shin, spending a bit of extra time behind her knee, and along her inner thigh.

But he didn’t go any higher.

She squirmed and wriggled on the bed, her chest heaving, nipples pointed directly up to the ceiling with the exposed wooden beams. He wasn’t going to squander this moment. He finally had time to fulfill the fantasies that had haunted him since she first walked into his bar. To savor her. Worship her. And he intended to do just that.

Picking up the other foot, and starting from the ankle again, he swirled his tongue, kissed and nibbled all the way up to the glistening, pink lips that called to him. That beckoned his tongue, that he was dying to taste.

Hooking her calves over his shoulders, he pressed his nose to her mound and inhaled, his cock now an agonizing iron bar against his zipper. He didn’t fucking care.

He spread her wide and flicked her clit with his tongue. She sucked in a sharp breath, then melted into the mattress. He did it again.

Her legs flopped open, and she relaxed even more as a warm gush fled her center. He rushed to lap it up, to taste her. And fuck, did she ever taste sweet.

Opening his eyes, he glanced up to see her cupping her breasts through the thin, silky fabric of her pajama top. Her bottom lip was pinned beneath her top teeth and her back arched. It was like staring at a piece of art. So beautiful. So perfect.

Circling his lips around her clit, he sucked on the needy little bud, until it swelled against his tongue. Then he slipped two fingers into her slick channel and pumped, spreading and scissoring, before finally curling them up and pressing on that magic little button.

Her hips shot off the mattress and she gasped.

He did it again.

And again.

And each time her hips lifted higher, more of her sweetness coated his fingers. But he wanted more. He needed more. Carefully pulling his fingers free, he gripped her by the hips and flipped her to her stomach, eliciting a high-pitched yelp of surprise from the half-naked woman on the bed.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, bewilderment in her hooded gaze. He took no time giving her instructions, and just manipulated her body the way he needed it. Face down, ass up.

Trailing his tongue back up from the soft spot behind her knee, and along the back of her thigh, he took pleasure in her ragged pants and the way her hips dipped involuntarily, her clit desperate for friction. For his mouth.

“Patience,” he purred, smoothing his hands up her hamstrings and over the plump, perfectly-round globes of her ass. He gripped the cheeks, spread them, and swept his tongue up through her crease.

Her gasp made him smile. Then she tried to crawl away, but he held firm.

“Dom,” she breathed. “You don’t …”

“I know. But I want to.” He did it again. “Do you not like it?”

“I …” She moaned. “But it’s …”

“It’s what?”

“Wrong?”

“Are you asking me if it’s wrong? Or telling me it’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Now her words were coming out as a whimper. He twirled his tongue around her bare hole, enjoying the way it puckered tighter. Reaching beneath her, he sought out her soaked center and pushed his fingers back inside. Instantly, her hips started to buck up and down again. But that only made her ass cheeks squeeze his face.

It was impossible not to smile.

“Dom …”

“Are you asking me to stop?”

“No?”

“Again, with the questions.” He chuckled and playfully bit the fleshiest part of her ass, pulling her out of her head and back into her body.

She gasped, then groaned. “Again … please.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, before biting her again, this time on the other side. Her moan was like music. Then he went back to work with his tongue, once again licking her ass and getting squeezed by her clenching cheeks. “See … nothing that feels this good can be wrong, right?”

“It feels … so … so good.”

Lifting his mouth from her crease, he stood up, still pumping two fingers into her pussy as he took a moment to just appreciate the woman panting on the bed. Her tank top pooled around her shoulder blades, revealing every little vertebra of her spine. They moved with the heavy intake of each of her ragged breaths. Desperate to taste more of her, he leaned over and roughly kissed his way down, licking and nibbling her sensitive skin, tasting her, devouring her like he needed her to survive.

“Dom … inside me … please.” With her cheek pressed into the mattress, she locked eyes with him over her shoulder. “I’m so close. I can’t come alone.”

Holding eye contact with her for a few more breaths, he let her pussy squeeze his fingers and coat them with her juices before he finally removed his hand from between her legs. She flipped over to her back again, watching with keen, hungry interest as he unzipped his jeans and dropped his boxers. Kicking off his wet shoes and socks wasn’t nearly as sexy, but he did it with lightning speed.

She yanked her tank top over head, and then crab-walked backward up to the top of the bed. He dipped one knee, then the other, into the mattress as he followed her.” She peeled the covers away, and lowered herself, her head hitting the pillows.

He covered her, hovering over her, their faces just inches apart. His cock throbbed with the need to be inside her, and when she spread her legs, allowing him to settle between them, he leaked precum onto her belly.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nodded, and he adjusted his position enough to notch himself at her center. Then, with their eyes locked, he slid home, inch by perfect inch, until he was fully seated, sheathed to the hilt. Home.

Pulling in a deep breath through his nose, he just stayed like that, unmoving. The crash of relief was overwhelming and almost like a drug. He’d been carrying so much on his shoulders. So much grief, and guilt, and confusion. He felt none of that now. Being with Chloe, being inside Chloe felt so right. There was no room for guilt, or grief, or shame, or confusion in the bed with them. Just desire. Just passion. Just … need.

Because boy, did he fucking need her.

He craved her.

“Are you going to move?” she asked softly, staring up at him with worry in her eyes.

Blinking, he smiled and nodded. “Sorry, just … this feels right. Right? Like, you’re not regretting this?”

Her smile was small and she glanced away. “Do we really want to be having this conversation while you’re inside of me?”

Fuck. No.

He made to move off and out of her, but she gripped his forearms to keep him there. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just … I want this. I want you. Maybe we can have the heavy conversation once we’re full of dopamine?” She shrugged. “It’d be a shame to waste such an impressive erection.”

That made him bark out a loud laugh that felt nearly as good as being inside of her. “It would be a shame. It’s been painfully hard for hours.”

“Hours? I think that’s a medical condition. Should I call Justine?”

“No, you shouldn’t call Justine. There’s no room for anything, or anybody else, in this bed but us.” He swept the stray strands of her hair off her face and stared down into her eyes. “Got it?”

She nodded. “Got it. Now move. Fuck me already. Isn’t that why you came here?”

Oh, she was a smart-ass. And he loved it. Growling, he laced one leg under hers and rocked them until she was on top and he was on the bottom. “You going to be bossy? Then you’re in the driver’s seat.”

She met him with a challenging gaze, lifted up onto her knees, and started to move up and down, squeezing his cock with every draw, and relaxing with every plunge. “See, I don’t waste time. I get the job done.”

Gripping her hips, he focused on her tight, raspberry nipples and the way they hardened into little, suckable buds right before his eyes. Her breasts were fuller. It wasn’t just a new, padded bra. The way they bobbed with each lift and drop hypnotized him, and when he reached up to cup one, taking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she let out a low, cat-like mewl.

He adjusted his position on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, so he had unfettered access to her tits. Taking each one into his mouth, he sucked and flicked her nipples as she continued to ride him, coaxing that explosive orgasm from his balls.

Sliding one hand over her hip and around her ass, he found her puckering hole. “You going to let me in?” he asked, dipping his fingers lower to gather some of her ample wetness.

“I’ve never …”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“But …”

“But?”

“Okay.” She moaned.

“Okay?”

Her head bobbed, almost with desperation. “Yeah. I want to try.”

“Okay.” He returned to her hole and pressed gently. “Push out with your muscles. It’ll make it easier. I’ll go slow.”

Still bobbing up and down on his cock, she did as she was told, and he slipped into the first knuckle.

“Good girl,” he praised, earning a new flush of color to her cheeks. “Almost in.”

“I feel really … full.”

“Yeah, you do.” He slid up to the next knuckle, then the base of his finger. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s … weird.”

“Good weird?”

“Yeah … good weird.”

“Keep moving. See how it feels.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped, so she resumed her riding and when he glanced up into her eyes and the pure shock and pleasure that erupted on her face, he couldn’t stop the smile from curving up his mouth. “That’s … wow!”

“I’m close,” he gritted out. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“Oh god … Dom …”

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his cock as deep as it could go inside of her, his finger in her ass. Through the thin membrane that separated her ass from her pussy, he could feel his cock with his finger and vice versa. It felt even better when there was a plug or vibrator. Maybe they’d get there one day?

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Right now, they needed to focus.

He welcomed the distraction though. If he let his mind wander just a little, he could hold on and wait for her so they could come together. Not for long though.

Was she even close?

“Dom … I … oh … god—”

Thank. Fuck.

Chloe’s entire body stilled, as her pussy throbbed around him, squeezing him like a vice, pulling him deeper while also somehow simultaneously pushing him out. He felt it with his cock, and his finger. Her pants and wordless cries only galvanized his own release and within two heartbeats, he was filling her up. His balls tightened against his taint as a rush of heat filled his belly and groin. His cock pulsed with every spurt, it was such a release it was practically painful if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Once he was finished, his brain back in his skull and not between his legs, he gently bit her shoulder, then kissed it, pulling his finger from her ass and carefully wrapping his arms around her as she trembled in the echoes of her climax.

It was a few more moments before she was able to relax and breathe deeply. Then, without saying a word, she climbed off him and skittered across the hall to the bathroom.

Fuck, please don’t have her come back and tell me to leave.

He slipped out of bed and went to wash his hands and face at the kitchen sink. Then he filled up two water glasses and brought them back to bed. She was still in the bathroom when he returned. So, hopeful, he climbed into bed, pulled the covers up over his waist, leaned against the headboard and waited.

His stomach was in his throat when the bathroom door finally opened.

Was she going to kick him out?

Or ask him to stay the night?

She met his gaze on the threshold of the bedroom, her hair a wild, red mess around her head as most of it had escaped the braid, and her cheeks were still flushed from their efforts. She’d never looked more beautiful.

He pulled in a deep breath. Waiting for the invitation, or the guillotine.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his belly a swirling vortex of worry.

Her throat moved on a heavy swallow. “I’m pregnant.”