Insatiable Cravings – Episode 123

  

 

INSATIABLE CRAVINGS

Insatiable Cravings – Episode 123

Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game} 

TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.

Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.

By: Chukwuma Rejoice 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

~ Genevieve ~

“Drive alone. I’ll take them home.”

Dominic was already striding towards his car, not bothering to wait for a response from his right-hand man.

Still, Dexter inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, Boss.”

I glanced at Aurora, catching the flicker of sadness in her expression. She didn’t say a word to him, only turned and began walking away. With a quick nod to Dex, I hurried to match her pace.

We reached for the car door at the same moment, our hands brushing. My gaze snapped to hers, then flicked down to our joined hands before meeting her startled eyes once more.

She was used to sitting in the front. So was I.

I don’t usually back down easily. But with a breath of reluctant surrender, I withdrew my hand.

“Aurora, in the back. Genevieve—front seat, please.” Dominic’s voice was clipped, brooking no argument.

“But—”

“Rory.”

Just her name. Firm. A warning laced in affection. Her resistance collapsed in an instant. Shoulders drooping, she gave a dramatic huff and slipped into the backseat.

I slid into the passenger seat, fastening my seatbelt. Through the window, I glimpsed Dexter again—his face lined with a quiet despair. His gaze drifted to Rory, and there was a subtle, simmering glare in it.

The drive was silent.

The only sound was the soft, relentless patter of rain drumming against the roof, muffling the world outside in a wash of grey.

By the time we pulled into the drive of Dominic’s estate, the night had settled in completely. The rain had worsened, sheeting from the sky like it was trying to wash the world clean.

The second we stepped out, it hit us—cold, merciless, and soaking through our clothes within seconds.

Cold. Wet. And completely pissed off. Brilliant.

..

The heat of Dominic’s hoodie wrapped around me like a lover’s embrace, shielding me from the residual chill that still clung to my skin. The scent of him was everywhere—woodsmoke and spice and something dark and masculine beneath.

I was drowning in one of his many oversized hoodies, and it was ridiculous how much comfort it brought. Almost enough to let my worries slip away.

Almost.

Padding across the room, I reached for my phone on the desk. Two messages waited—Cora and Jules.

Jules.

God, it had been weeks since I last spoke to her.

Shít.

Same with Cora. Everything with the Bràtva had consumed my life, dragging me away from every scrap of normality.

No more. I needed to sort it out.

Cora’s message came first:

Cora: Is there a reason you’re ignoring your messages and calls? Are you, like, deàd or something?

I huffed a breath of amusement and quickly typed a reply.

Me: I’m so sorry. I’ve been swamped and not near my phone. I’ll make it up to you when I get back to China, I promise.

Then I opened Jules’ message.

Jules: If I hadn’t asked Adrianna, I’d honestly think Dominic killéd you after you got back together. You’re scaring me. This isn’t like you. If something’s wrong, you know you can always tell me.

Yeah… sure. And put her life in dànger? Absolutely not.

A heavy breath caught in my throat as I stared at the screen, fingers hovering, unsure what to say.

Me: I’m fine, I swear. Something came up and it’s taken all my time. But I’m alive. If I weren’t, my family would’ve torn the place down already.

“I’ve missed seeing you in my clothes.”

The low, rumbling voice made me start. I turned to find Dominic leaning against the doorway, his gaze dragging down the length of me.

“I’ve missed being in your clothes,” I murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at my lips.

A soft hum rumbled from his chest as he shut the door behind him. His gaze softened as he stepped closer. “So, you’re staying?”

“Mmhmm.” I nodded. “Did you talk to Rory?”

“Yeah.” The space between us closed with deliberate slowness. When he reached me, his arms came around my waist. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been with you all day.”

He tilted his head. “Not with me, sweetheart. Just around me.”

“Right. And how do I fix that?”

“Give me a hug.”

I didn’t hesitate. My arms circled around him, drawing him in. His sigh ghosted against my neck as he buried his face there, holding on like I was something precious.

His grip was firm. Not enough to hurt—just enough to let me feel how deeply he needed this. Needed me.

And God, did that do something to my heart.

Dominic pulled back slowly, our gazes locking. His eyes blazed with want, raw and open.

Mine mirrored his.

My eyes darted to his lips—back to his eyes—and then he kissed me. Hard. Like he couldn’t bear another second without the taste of me.

He claimed not just my mouth, but my breath, my thoughts, me. We kissed like we were made for this. Tongues moving in tandem, no battle for control. Just desperate, hungry need.

He broke the kiss only to trail down the side of my face, lips brushing against my neck. Out of instinct, I tilted my head for him.

He took his time, biting, tasting, teasing. My móan slipped out just as I dragged his mouth back to mine, and he swallowed it whole.

Years had passed. Yet my body still responded to him like no time had passed at all. Every touch, every flick of his tongue, every teasing press of lips and hands—it was like setting fíre to my skin.

The heat between my thighs was unbearable, every second a cruél kind of tortúre. Another móan. Then another. And another. Each one coaxed out of me by his mouth.

Without pausing, he guided me backwards until I felt the wall at my back.

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against my throat, lips hot and slick. “Do I?” 

I nodded. Dazed and breathless. 

“Good. What do you…” his voice dropped, loaded with fílth, “want?”

“You.”

He grinned wickedly. “Oh, darling, you’ve had me since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” His stare was fierce—ravenous. 

“So that means… you’re mine?”

“Absolutely.”

“Forever?”

“Yes, my love,” he breathed. “There’s no way I’m letting you go again,” he said, his lips brushing mine. “There’s nothing on this earth that’ll tear us apart.” A quick kiss. “And there’s nowhere you can run that I won’t find you.”

“Are you underestimating me?”

“Never. But you might be underestimating what I’m capable of when something—or someone—I want is out of reach.”

“Is it bàd that I’m curious?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he hoisted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His smirk was pure siń, dark and glorious, as he carried me to the bed and tossed me onto it.

He was on me before I had a chance to think, and I didn’t wait either. The moment his mouth opened to speak, I kissed him hard, tugging him down to me.

My hands slipped beneath his hoodie, seeking skin, desperate for warmth. He smiled, then pulled back.

I frowned. “Funny?”

He nodded, then murmured, “Take it off.”

“You do it.”

His eyes gleamed. “Do it yourself.”

So I did. Soon, he was nakéd, and I was the only one left clothed. But just as I reached for the hem of the hoodie, he caught my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head.

“You don’t need to. You’re cold.”

Not anymore.

He leaned in, lips parted like he was going to kiss me—but at the last second, he turned his head. My lips landed on his cheek instead.

“Besides… I’m fairly sure I can make you come with it still on. Wouldn’t that be a sight—you, in my hoodie, filled with my cúm?”

My breath hitched, my body burning with an obscene kind of anticipation. I forced a smirk. “You do know bragging is a siń?”

“For you, my love, I’d siñ twice over.”

His mouth dragged a wet trail down my stomach. “Especially when you taste—” he licked again, “this good.” 

His fingers found the waistband of my pànty and teased—taking his sweet time, driving me to màdness.

When he finally pulled them off, he looked up at me. Our eyes locked. I hadn’t looked away once.

A slow smile spread across his face. He knew I was falling apart beneath him. He loved it.

“Are you going to get on with it, or keep staring at me like I’m some kind of art film?”

He laughed softly. “Can’t I do both?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

His breath was warm against my inner thigh—too warm. It ghosted across my skin like a sin-laced promise, and still, he didn’t move an inch closer to where I needed him most.

My back arched ever so slightly, a silent plea, but Dominic only smirked against my skin. He dragged his lips up the inside of my thigh in maddeningly slow kisses—lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the blóody world.

“Dominic,” I breathed, my voice already strained.

His teeth scraped ever so gently, almost teasing, before his tongue flicked out and soothed the spot. “You’re shaking,” he murmured against me, voice low and amused. “So desperate for me already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

That earned me a light nip—a warning, not a punishment. “You think I don’t know how bàdly your body wants me? You’re soaked for me, Baby.”

A whimper slipped out before I could stop it.

Then I felt it—his lips, warm and full, pressing a single, maddeníngly slow kiss right there.

I nearly came undone.

It wasn’t deep. Wasn’t fast. Just one sínful kiss, full of possession and quiet promise. Then another, softer this time, right against the bundle of nerves that was already screaming for attention.

I cried out, my hips jerking upward, but he placed one firm hand on my stomach, holding me down. His strength was effortless, unrelenting.

“You’ll take what I give you,” he murmured, voice like gravel and velvet, “and nothing more. Not yet.”

The bastàrd was edging me on purpose.

He trailed his tongue along my centre again—slow, purposeful—and then stopped just before giving me what I needed. His breath, hot and heavy, fanned across me, making everything clench in anticipation.

“Dominic, please.”

His fingers gripped my thighs and spread them wider, his control absolute. “I could spend hours between your legs,” he said. “Look at you—writhing, begging, all for me. This is mine.”

He pressed another open-mouthed kiss, more heated this time. I gasped, my hands flying to the sheets, gripping them like lifelines.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. I was soaked, shaking, so close to the edge I could barely breathe.

Then, with a wicked hum of approval, Dominic slipped his tongue between my folds—and all rational thought evaporated.

His tongue moved like he had all the time in the world. No rush. No mercy. Just the agońising pace of a man who knew exactly what he was doing—and exactly how it would wréck me.

“Dominic—” My voice cracked. I didn’t know if I was begging or warning. Maybe both.

He groaned low against me, the sound vibrating through my entire body. “You taste like heaven and fúcking sín,” he muttered, licking another slow stripe up my centre before stopping—again—just shy of where I needed him.

I whimpered, trying to shift my hips, desperate for friction, for anything—but his grip was steel. One arm curled around my thigh, holding me open for him, the other palm flat against my stomach, keeping me still.

“You’re not going to come,” he said calmly, lips brushing right against my soaked skin. “Not until I say so.”

“Please—” It was a whisper now, broken and rúined.

His voice darkened. “Do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this? Spread out, soaked, shaking… begging for me. Fúck, Genevieve. You have no idea.”

Then, in a dizzying switch, he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my clit—finally—and I cried out. But just as quickly, he pulled back, tongue flicking lightly instead. Soft. Torturoús.

“This,” he murmured between strokes, “this is mine. Every gasp. Every twitch. Every desperate little noise you make. All of it. Mine.”

I could feel the tremble in my thighs, the pressure building unbearably, but he was merciless. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. Just enough to keep me right there—on the verge. But never enough to send me crashing over the edge.

“I should let you come,” he whispered, lips brushing against me. “You deserve it, don’t you? But you’re so blóody pretty when you’re like this. Ruiñed. Desperate.”

My head fell back against the pillow. My nails dug into the sheets.

And then—just when I thought I couldn’t take another second—he pressed a kiss so soft, so reverent, it nearly undid me.

“You’re everything to me,” he breathed. “Do you know that?”

It made my heart stutter.

“I could spend the rest of my life between your thighs and still never get enough.”

Another flick of his tongue—firmer now, more deliberate. And then he sealed his lips around me and sucked.

My entire body shattered.

I came with a cry, hips bucking, legs trembling, and still he held me down, still he took it, tongue working me through the aftershocks like he never wanted to stop.

When he finally pulled away, his mouth glistened. His eyes, dark and wild, met mine.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my thigh. “You’ll give me another.”

And I believed him.

Because there was no coming back from Dominic Morozov. 

“Come here,” I whispered, voice barely audible through the haze of aftershocks.

He looked up from between my legs—mouth still glistening, eyes still feral—and I swear something in him softened. Just for a moment.

Then he obeyed.

Dominic rose like a storm receding, slow and devastatíng. His body blanketed mine as he crawled up the bed, muscles rippling, mouth still parted from where he’d ruinéd me seconds ago. And when he leaned down, I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped both arms around his neck and dragged him into a kiss.

God, I could taste myself on his tongue. Could feel the slick, sticky heat of it as our mouths met—slow, méssy, almost desperate. He let me take control for a breath, just long enough to deepen the kiss, to show him I wasn’t broken yet.

But then he growled, low and dark, and took it back.

One hand gripped my jaw. The other slid under my thigh, hiking it up high around his waist as he kissed me deeper—filthier—like he was trying to crawl inside me through my mouth. And still, somehow, he was gentle. Tender, even, in a way that húrt.

“Dominic…” I gasped when he finally pulled back, lips red and raw. My voice was trembling. “I can’t—”

“Yes,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “You can.”

He kissed my jaw, my throat, my collarbone—soft, reverent kisses—as his hand slid down again. Between my thighs. Back to the place where I was still throbbing, still wreckéd from the first time.

“No—no, I…” I whimpered, even as my hips arched into his touch.

“You’ll give me another,” he said, gently parting me with his fingers. “One more. Just one more.”

And then he was there again—slow, so slow—but now I was already sensitive, already shaking. It was too much. Too much—

“Dominic—!”

“Shhh…” His voice was a siñful lullaby against my skin. “I’ve got you, Vixen. Just feel.” 

His tongue stroked me in patient circles, and his arm held me down again, grounding me through the tremors. It built faster this time, overwhelming and tender all at once—like he wasn’t just worshipping my body, but claiming my soul.

He kissed me like I was breakable.

Like he knew he already owned me.

And when I came for him again—harder this time, sobbing his name into the sheets—he kissed the inside of my thigh with aching softness and stayed there, holding me together as I came undone.

Only when the shudders stopped did he finally pull himself up again.

And this time, when he kissed me, it was gentle. Slow. Full of quiet things he hadn’t said out loud.

“You drive me mad,” he whispered against my lips. “I am insánely in love with you. Do you know that?”

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt him again—the hard press of his body between my thighs, the unmistakable weight of him nudging against my entrance.

My eyes flew open.

“Dominic—”

He kissed me before I could say more. A slow, reverent kiss. One that tasted like every promise he’d ever broken, and every one he still intended to keep.

“Look at me,” he murmured when he pulled back, his voice rough and low. “I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you.”

God help me, I did.

I looked up at him—into those haunted, beautiful eyes—and felt the world tilt on its axis as he started to push in.

Slow.

Excruciatingly slow.

My breath caught. He was thick, stretching me inch by inch, and my body—already wreckéd, already oversensitive—shuddered around him.

His jaw tightened.

“Fúck,” he groaned, eyes darkening as he pushed in deeper. “You feel like heaven. Like siń wrapped in silk.”

My nails dug into his back. Every inch he gave me felt like a conquest, like he was claiming me from the inside out—not just taking my body, but rewriting it.

And then he stilled.

Fully seated. Fully inside me.

We both gasped—me from the fullness, him from the feel—and for a second, neither of us moved.

Then Dominic’s lips brushed my ear.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “Every breath. Every sigh. Every time you fall apart…” He thrust once, slow but deep, pulling a broken moan from my lips. “You do it for me.”

Another slow thrust. Deeper. More possessive.

He moved slowly, like he had all the time in the world—grinding into me with devastatíng control, dragging every sound he wanted from my throat. His hand found mine, fingers threading between mine, pinning it above my head.

But the other…

The other slid under my thigh again, holding me open for him as he drove in deeper—filthy and tender and maddéning.

“Dominic—please—” I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

He did.

“I know, Baby.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “I know. Give it to me.”

And I did. I gave him everything — every gasp, every plea, every last bit of myself—until the pressure coiled so tightly I could hardly breathe.

And then I shattéred.

With him inside me. Over me. Kissing me like I was the only thing he’d ever loved.

TBC📖✍️

Next Episode 

Previous Episode