INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 127
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
There’s a particular madnéss in the way I missed her.
Not the loud kind. Not the sort that howls through your chest or makes a spectacle of you in public. Mine was the quiet kind—slow-burning and insidious, the sort that seeps into your marrow and refuses to let go. I missed Genevieve like breath. Like stillness after chàos. And when I landed in Shanghai and stood before her door, my suitcase still sitting in the car, I didn’t knock straightaway.
I just breathed.
It was absurd, really—how even the air felt different here. Foreign. Edged with city smoke and the tang of damp stone, but laced with something else… something electric. Her. She was behind that door, and I could feel it.
So I knocked.
Footsteps. Muffled. Then a voice—sharp, surprised. Familiar. That would be Cora. The one with the acid wit. She opened the door with the finesse of a misfiring android and stared at me as though I’d crawled out of the walls.
“Dominic Morozov?”
“Good morning to you too,” I replied lightly, managing a polite smile. Her expression was priceless—like she was watching a ghost. “Won’t you invite me in?”
She gawked. Completely stunned. “S-sure… Wh-why don’t you… come in?”
“Thanks.”
And there she was.
Genevieve.
She stood frozen at the table, just staring. No words. No sass. Just those wide, beautiful eyes—uncertain, like she didn’t quite believe I was real. Then something broke inside her, and she moved. Quick. Light-footed. Straight into my arms.
I caught her like I’d done it a hundred times.
God, I’d missed this.
The way she clung to me like she was meant to be there. Her scent—faintly floral, delicate, all her—wrapped around me as I buried my face in the crook of her neck. She was warm, soft, heartbreakingly alive.
She was mine.
“What the héll,” she whispered, laughing breathlessly, disbelieving. Her voice trembled with joy, like she didn’t know whether to cry or laugh again. “How are you here?”
“I flew,” I said with a grin, and she gave my chest a playful smack. It didn’t húrt, but it nearly winded me—in the best way. “I missed you too, my Vixen.”
And I meant it. Every bloódy word.
“You know I missed you.”
“Do I? Do I know that?”
That moment held us suspended—her radiant, me unravelled. Her eyes stripped me bare. I leaned in, drawn like a tide, lips nearly brushing hers—but she stopped me. A palm to my chest. Gentle, firm.
Restraint.
I sighed, straightening slightly. It was alright. Not now. But soon.
I turned to Cora instead, offering her a hand—anything to ground myself, to stop myself from completely losing it just from being near Genevieve.
“Dominic Morozov, just as you said.”
“I’m, uh—” Cora blinked, seeming to reboot. “Cora.”
“Well then, Cora with no surname, lovely to meet you.”
She smiled, clearly still processing. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise.”
“Oh,” she added, glancing quickly at Genevieve before flicking back to me. “All good things, I hope?”
I nodded. “Oh, absolutely.” Then turned back to Genevieve, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “So now, if you’ll excuse us—I’d quite like to kiss my girlfriend
Cora vanished like she’d been set alight. Her bedroom door clicked shut, and I turned to Genevieve again.
I didn’t kiss her. Not yet.
I just looked at her.
Drank her in.
She was wearing joggers and a simple top, barefoot, hair a little tousled—but to me, she looked like a miracle. Somehow more vivid than I remembered, like time apart had only made her clearer.
“I thought you had something incredibly important this week,” she murmured. “What are you doing here?”
“I do have something to do, my Love” I said.
“May I know what it is?”
The urge to tell her nearly won. But no—the reveal needed timing. The right moment. The right sky.
“You’ll see.” I pulled her in close, feeling the way she moulded to me like we were carved from the same shape. “But first,” I breathed against her hair, “let me kiss you.”
And I did.
••
By the time I stood on the rooftop waiting for her, the nerves were beginning to claw in.
The cold air bit through my suit, and my heart thudded slow but heavy.
I didn’t know what scared me more: the idea of what I was about to do—or the thought that she might say no.
Then the door opened, and there she was.
She stepped out like a vision. Red dress clinging to her like it’d been made for that body, her hair smooth and glossy, eyes wide as they found me.
I could hardly breathe.
She walked toward me, every step knocking something loose in my chest, and I met her halfway. My hand slid around her waist automatically, instinctively. I guided her to the chair with the kind of care I reserved for precious things.
“Are you going to do the very important thing after this?” she asked as she sat, smoothing her dress. “Thanks.”
“This is the very important thing.”
She blinked. “This date?”
I nodded.
“And what is it? You know, the thing?”
I wanted to tell her. But not yet. Not until the timing was perfect. Not until the sky had fully darkened and the stars came out as witnesses.
“Let’s eat first.”
“But—”
“Let’s eat first, baby.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
Her voice was casual. But her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her fork.
And me?
I was already falling, deeper than before, terrified and alive because tonight—tonight, I was going to ask her the question that would change everything.
She laughed at something—something I’d said, maybe. I couldn’t recall, not when every pulse in my body was hammering out the same frantic rhythm: do it, do it, do it.
The rooftop shimmered beneath the city lights. It was quiet up here, elevated and private, a cocoon above the chàos of Shanghai. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, throwing soft shadows across her face as she tilted her head and sipped her wine.
God, she was beautiful. Unfairly so. And she had every idea of it.
I reached for her hand, tracing idle circles into her palm. Her skin was warm, delicate, and when I finally spoke, my voice was rough—like it’d been dragged through gravel.
“Genevieve.”
She looked up. “Hmm?”
“I have to say something, and you need to let me finish.”
Immediately, suspicion flickered behind her eyes. “What’s going on?”
I stood. Walked around the table. My heart had become a goddamn weapon in my chest, beating so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. I got down on one knee, just as she gasped.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Dom…”
“I know,” I said, voice trembling. “I know it’s mad. But I’ve always been màd for you, haven’t I? You know how obsesséd I am—God, it’s terrífying how much I love you. But what terrifiés me more is a life without you in it.”
My throat thickened. “A ring can’t promise a perfect life. But it can be a promise that I’ll spend every day choosing you. And yeah, maybe it’s too soon for some—but I can’t keep waiting.”
She was silent. Stunned.
I pulled out the box. Flipped it open. The ring caught the light and shone like it had a soul.
“I want you to be mine. Publicly. Permanently. I want the whole world to know you’re my person. That I’m yours.”
Tears welled in her eyes, trembling in the lamplight.
“This isn’t about tradition, or some ticking timeline, or whatever the world thinks we’re supposed to do. This is about the fact that when you’re not near me, I feel like I’m living in greyscale. It’s about the way you look at me when you’re annoyed but still love me. The way you say my name like I belong to you—and how f+cking right it feels when you do.”
I took her hand. Kissed her knuckles. Held on like they were the only things anchoring me to this world. “I’ve done monstroús things in this life. Things I’ll never be able to wash off. But somehow… somehow you still look at me like I’m worth saving. Like there’s something good in me. And I’d spend every day proving you right, if you’ll let me.”
I swallowed, “Six years ago, I met this wild-eyed seventeen-year-old girl on a rooftop. You remember? I threatened to throw you off and you didn’t look fazed.”
We both laughed, soft and teary.
“That girl got under my skin and didn’t leave. She made me fall—hard. Now she’s a woman who has achieved so more than I ever thought possible. And she still isn’t afraid of anything.”
The breeze nipped at my cheeks. My hands were trembling. “Genevieve King, you are the most maddening, brilliant, fearless woman I have ever known. I love you beyond reason. So… will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe. For a moment, I thought I’d overstepped. Pushed too far, too soon.
“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder: “Yes, yes, yes—are you iñsane? Yes!”
She dropped to her knees in front of me and kissed me like she’d waited a lifetime. Hands in my hair, tears on her cheeks, laughter tumbling from her lips as I slid the ring onto her finger with shaking hands.
“God, all the horrible things I thought you were about to say,” she muttered.
I laughed, dazed and breathless. “F+ck, I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
She opened her mouth to argue—but this time, I kissed her silent.
••
Her back hit the door of the penthouse the moment we stumbled inside.
I hadn’t planned it—hadn’t meant to kiss her that hard, that desperate—but the second she said yes, the second I felt her hands gripping my face with that breathless laugh against my lips, I lost it.
She was mine. Mine.
No shadows of doubt. No lingering maybes. She chose me.
And I was hers.
I kissed her like a man who had waited lifetimes. Pinned her to the door with my hips, one hand cupping her jaw as my mouth devoured hers—hot, open, filthy. Her fingers tangled in my shirt, dragging it up, baring my skin. I tore it off and tossed it somewhere behind us.
“Dominic,” she gasped against my lips.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist like it was instinct. I walked her backwards through the suite, lips never leaving hers. She tasted like wine and forever. Like something holy.
“You don’t know,” I rasped, kissing down her throat, “what that word did to me.”
“What word?” she panted.
“Yes.”
I dropped her onto the bed gently, but my eyes—my hands—were starved. I looked at her like she was sacred. And then I stripped her slow, kissing every inch of skin I uncovered. The curve of her hip. The dip of her waist. The underside of her breast, where she was soft and unguarded.
Her fingers clutched my shoulders as I settled between her thighs, reverent and ravenous.
I kissed her there—tasted her—and she arched off the bed with a gasp so sweet I nearly came undone.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered, breathless.
“I’ve never wanted anything like this,” I said, my voice wrecked. “Like you.”
Her hand found my jaw, her thumb brushing my cheek. I leaned into it like a starving man.
“Then take me,” she said. “I’m yours.”
That word—yours—tore through me like fire.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, as I slid into her slowly. We both gasped. Her legs wrapped around me tight, her heels digging into my back. And for a moment, I didn’t move. I just looked at her.
Her eyes. Her flushed lips. Her chest rising fast.
“F+ck, Genevieve,” I groaned. “You feel like heaven. Like héll. Like home.”
And then I moved.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t rushed either. It was a rhythm made of devotion and madness, of every emotion I didn’t have words for. She moaned my name like it was a prayer and a curse, her nails raking down my back, her body arching into mine like we couldn’t get close enough.
I whispered everything into her skin—how beautiful she was, how much I loved her, how I’d burn the world for her.
I kissed her through her climax, holding her face as she shattered beneath me, my name falling from her lips like salvation.
And when I followed—groaning, trembling, ruined—I buried my face in her neck and held her like I’d never let go.
We lay tangled in silence, bodies slick with sweat, hearts thundering in sync. Her fingers traced circles on my spine. My hand rested on her belly, protective, possessive, calm.
“You were shaking,” she murmured again.
“Still am,” I confessed into her skin.
She laughed softly and whispered, “You’re such a menace.”
I smiled. “Yours.”
TBC📖✍️
