Page 36 of Blackmailing Belle (The Lost Girls #4)

Chapter 36

Dripping Down Her Thighs

THE BEAST OF BOSTON

A drian .

Just the thought of his name sends a fresh wave of fury rolling through me. He stood there, smiling . Like he had any right to breathe the same air as Isabelle. Like he hadn’t discarded her as if she were something replaceable. Mine. She’s mine now, and I’ll tear him apart for daring to look at her like he still has a claim.

My claws flex as I grip her hips, her silky yellow dress already hiked up around her waist. The contrast between the smooth fabric and her bare skin beneath my hands sends a jolt of heat through me, sharpening the edge of my fury.

She doesn’t believe in love. Told me as much with that dismissive edge in her voice. I chose her because she wasn’t supposed to need it—because I wasn’t supposed to need it. But hearing it from her lips was like a slap, as if love, her love, was something I’d never be worthy of. Something she gave away to a bastard like Adrian, even for a moment. I’d do anything to touch it, to taste it .

I bet her love feels like standing in an endless ray of sunshine, warm enough to burn away the cold of any winter.

I undo my slacks and free my hard length that practically vibrates with need.

Without another word, I position myself at her entrance, the heat of her drawing me in as I thrust forward in one swift, powerful motion. She cries out, her hands gripping the railing for support as I fill her completely. The tight, wet heat of her squeezes me like a vice, and I can’t hold back the growl that rumbles from deep in my chest.

"I wanted to rip his head off," I growl, my voice low and guttural. My claws grip her hips harder as I thrust deeper, the slick glide of her pulling me closer to the edge. “Do you know what it took not to end him right there? To not drag him out by his throat and leave his blood on the carpet? Just for looking at you.”

Her breath comes in gasps, her body trembling beneath mine as I move.

Every thrust sends a ripple of sensation through both of us, the barbs of my length catching just enough to heighten the friction without breaking the rhythm. She moans louder, her body writhing, and I grip her hips harder, knowing that I’m overwhelming her.

The rhythmic slap of my hips against hers echoes in the quiet, broken only by her moans and the harsh rasp of my breathing.

"You let him touch you once," I repeat the words in a snarl, pulling back before driving into her, harder this time, "but he’ll never touch you again. Not when every inch of you belongs to me now."

She can’t answer, her voice lost to the shuddering sounds spilling from her lips. Her body says enough, though, the way she meets every thrust, the way she clenches around me as I drive into her again and again.

"You think love isn’t real, Isabelle? Fine. But this—what I’m doing to you—this is real. The way your body responds to mine, the way you give yourself over to me like no one else could. I own this, every part of it. And no one, not Adrian, not anyone, will ever take it from me."

I wrap my hand around her neck, forcing her to arch back so my teeth can graze the delicate skin of her ear. "You’re dripping for me, Isabelle. Your body knows who it belongs to."

As I pound into her, her gasps turn into cries that send a thrill through me.

"Come for me," I command, my voice rough with need.

Her body tightens around me as she shatters, her cry echoing through the room. The feel of her pulsing around me pulls me under, and I follow her over the edge, spilling into her in hot, relentless waves.

But it’s not enough. I have to see it. I have to see the proof of what we’ve just done.

I drop to my knees, gripping her hips as I pull apart the perfect globes of her ass to reveal that glistening pussy. She clenches and trembles, our mingled desire spilling from her in shimmering streaks. The sight is enough to set my blood on fire all over again.

“Fuck,” I growl, the word ripped from my chest as hunger consumes me. I lean forward, burying my face between her legs, my tongue sweeping through the slick mess of her and me combined. The taste is irresistible, the heat of her quivering sex only fueling my need. She’s still trembling, her body wracked with aftershocks, but I can’t stop.

She gasps, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the railing as I devour her, licking and nipping like a predator savoring the spoils of a hard-won hunt. Her scent—ripe, raw, wholly mine—floods my senses, pushing my restraint past its limits. She smells like sex, like us, and it fills every corner of my being with a deep, primal satisfaction.

My growl deepens as I press closer, my tongue dragging over her, slow and deliberate, like I’m branding her from the inside out.

She’s mine in every way that matters. Her body tells me what her words won’t, what she doesn’t even believe in. Love might not be real to her, but this connection between us—it’s undeniable. It’s fire, scorching and inescapable, and if it’s all I’ll ever get, it will have to be enough.

Something inside me bucks at that. Something that wants more. Wants all of her. Her soul, her heart, her love.

Her moans rise again, breathless and ragged, and my cock aches with the need to fill her once more. Every instinct in me demands I leave no part of her untouched, unclaimed—not just her body but her scent, her soul. To make her mine in ways no one can ever undo.

I’m on my feet, driving right back into her. Isabelle grips the railing as if her life depends on it.

“I can’t,” she gasps, her voice breaking, her legs trembling.

“You can,” I snarl, gripping her hips tighter and angling my thrusts to hit that spot again, the one that had her crying out just moments ago. “You will. You’re mine, Isabelle, and I’ll make sure you remember who owns this perfect little body.”

Her moans become desperate, her thighs quivering as I drive into her with relentless precision.

“Dominic,” she chokes out, the sound broken, pleading. “There—oh gods, right there. Please, don’t stop. ”

Isabelle’s body clenches around me. Her hands clutch the railing so hard her knuckles turn white, her head dropping forward as sweat beads along the back of her neck.

I obey, slamming into her at that same angle, over and over. Her cries grow louder, incoherent, and the way her body tightens around me tells me she’s close.

“That’s it. Look at you falling apart for me. My wife. My greedy little cum slut who can’t get enough.”

Her response is a strangled scream, her entire body shuddering as I drive her over the edge. She’s vise-tight around me, her release drenching my cock as her voice rises in a ragged cry. I slam into her one last time, burying myself deep as my own release crashes through me, hot and consuming, marking her all over again.

Her body slumps against the railing, trembling and spent, and I keep her there, locked in place as I catch my breath. My hand slides up her back, soothing, as I press my lips to her damp shoulder.

“You did so well, baby,” I murmur, my voice low, satisfied. She reaches a hand back to run her fingers through my hair. I use the angle to drop tender kisses along her neck.

Isabelle doesn’t see it yet, but she’s more mine than she’ll ever admit. And as much as my wife rejects love, the irony isn’t lost on me—because for her, I think I might burn the whole world down just to see if I could make her believe in it again.

"You’re mine," I murmur, the words a vow and a promise. "And no one will ever take you from me."

The air inside the main hall feels cooler against my skin as we step back into the crowd. The faint smell of seawater and expensive perfume lingers, the low murmur of voices and clinking glasses buzzing around us. My hand stays at the back of Isabelle’s neck, my thumb tracing circles over her skin. She’s radiant, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, and her golden dress slightly askew in a way that screams satisfaction. She looks gorgeously, beautifully fucked, and I can’t help but smirk as my gaze locks with Adrian’s across the room.

He stiffens, his jaw tightening, and I give him a slow, deliberate smile—the cat who got the cream—and then some.

Tock is waiting near the edge of the hall by the archway leading back to the private area we’d just left. He’s acted as a subtle, silent guard to our. . .activities. He takes his place trailing behind Isabelle as we pass by.

I’m ready to finish this, get my wife’s father back, and get home.

It doesn’t take long to find Roman; he’s holding court near the large tank housing the sharks. Roman’s expression sharpens the second he sees me approaching, his ever-present air of casual arrogance shifting into something more calculating. Adrian sidles up to him, hands shoved in his pockets. There’s a dark surliness to his expression that I’m more than happy to take credit for.

“Dominic,” he greets, his tone slick as oil. “It’s time we discuss our future, don’t you think?”

Roman’s eyes flick between us, his smile widening just enough to reveal a hint of teeth. “Seeing as we’re family now, it seems best that we all leave the past behind us and move forward a united front.”

“Family,” I echo, letting the word drip with disdain as I step closer. “What exactly are you proposing, Roman? ”

He spreads his hands, the picture of faux sincerity. “It only makes sense, doesn’t it? Family should work together. Combine forces. Share territory. Product? Think of the possibilities.”

I let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and humorless. “You mean I should let you help yourself to what’s mine? That’s not how this works.”

Roman’s smile falters before he recovers, his eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about strength, Dominic. The kind that only comes from unity. We have just as much to offer you.”

I force him to tilt his head up slightly to maintain eye contact. “Here’s my counteroffer,” I say, my words edged with steel. “You return Basil without a single hair harmed, and I won’t light up every warehouse you’ve got on Dry Dock Avenue, Tide Street, or the stretch you’re hiding on Marginal Road.”

Roman’s expression tightens, his jaw clenching as he processes the threat. I lean in, my tone turning almost conversational. “Since we’re family , I’ll even let your Wolves live to reinvent themselves. Find a new trade, something that doesn’t involve dirty hexes. Hell, if it’s worthwhile, I might even invest.”

The lie slips from my tongue effortlessly, but Roman isn’t fooled. His smile sharpens as it stretches back into place. All teeth and no warmth. “How generous of you.”

“Isn’t it?” I counter, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

Roman’s eyes flicks to Isabelle, then back to me, his smile turning sharper, more deliberate. "It’s no wonder you’ve managed to claw your way to the top, Dominic. A shifter leading this city—it makes sense. The strength, the instinct, the. . .savagery. It’s in your blood, isn’t it? "

The air between us thickens, the insinuation in his words hanging like a blade ready to drop.

I let the comment sit for a beat, long enough for the silence to stretch uncomfortably, then close the already small distance between us. "You’re right about one thing, Roman. It is in my blood. And it’s exactly why you’ll never beat me."

Roman’s smile falters, and I savor the flicker of unabashed hate in his eyes before it vanishes behind his mask of control.

He looks down into his champagne glass. “We’ll have Basil delivered to Chapter Three tomorrow.”

That’s when Tock approaches. He whispers in my ear the words I’ve been waiting to hear all night.

I flash a grin at Roman. “No need. We sent someone to pick him up.”

Even Isabelle looks at me in question. Roman looks uneasy while Adrian is outright scowling.

“What?” Isabelle asks.

“I just got word that Lucien is driving him home right now. He’s no worse for wear.” I face Roman. “You know, to save you the trouble.”

An intense blast of hatred emits from him, and I expect the fire alarms to trigger.

Roman nods at Adrian. His second, who’s been sipping on a glass of brown liquor, holds out the glass of champagne in his other hand, extending it to me.

Roman raises his own glass in a mock toast, the gesture dripping with condescension. "Then here’s to family, Dominic. May we continue to. . .coexist."

I don’t reach for the glass. Instead, I give Roman my best bored stare. I’m not playing into his theatrics anymore. This isn’t a game, and this fuck is not long for this world. Not if I can help it.

Isabelle takes the glass from Adrian, clinking it to Roman’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

My wife tips it back and swallows. Roman frowns at her, and I wonder if it’s because he’s pissed he has no leverage over either of us, or if the open scorn is over her marrying the enemy.

“We’ll be seeing you,” I promise before taking Isabelle’s arm and turning to go.

The Wolves cut off in the opposite direction. Likely running to see if what I said was true, if I really do have Basil.

Fools.

But before we’ve gone far, Isabelle’s grip on my arm tightens, her nails digging in just enough to draw my attention. Her pace falters, her breath hitching. I glance down sharply. "Isabelle?"

Her brow knits, her face suddenly ashen, the flush of earlier pleasure replaced by a startling pallor. Her breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. "I. . .I feel. . . " Her voice fades, unsteady, the words trailing into silence.

"Isabelle?" My voice hardens with alarm as the unease clawing at my gut sharpens into dread. Something’s wrong—deeply wrong. Her body sways against mine, unnaturally limp, her breathing erratic.

The glass slips from her hand, tumbling in agonizing slow motion.

It hits the marble with a sharp, crystalline crack, shattering into jagged shards that scatter across the floor.

I catch her before she hits the ground.

A tight band of panic closes in around my windpipe .

I call her name again, but she doesn’t respond.

A single shard of glass spins in a slow, wobbly circle before stilling, and in that frozen second, dread floods my system.

Her face turns ashen.

“Isabelle!” I bellow.