INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 137
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
My thumb hovered above the screen a moment longer than it needed to before I finally hit send.
Me: When you’re ready to leave, tell me. I’ll send a car for you.
I stared at the message like an idíot, the corners of my mouth twitching despite the bone-deep weariness coiled tight in my chest.
She was in London. In the same bloódy city. And she hadn’t even told me.
Of course she hadn’t. This was Genevieve.
The woman was chaós wearing lipstick. Secrets wrapped in silk. And apparently, she thought she could surprise me.
Except the men keeping an eye on her? Still technically my men. They let me know the second she booked the flight. Then again, the moment her boots hit Heathrow.
Another buzz lit up my phone.
My Vixen: Sure.
A second one followed almost instantly.
My Vixen: Be ready in thirty minutes.
I allowed myself a smile. Not a soft one—there was nothing soft about what I felt for her. It was raw. Gnawing. Sometimes unbearable.
But that message… it cracked something open inside me. A sliver of light creeping into the dark corner she’d left behind.
Me: Alright.
I paused.
I could have sent another. Missed you. I love you. Can’t wait to see you.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I placed the phone on the desk and leaned back, exhaling as I stared out through the tall windows. London stretched out beneath me—cold, grey, fog-kissed. Steel and glass and bone-chilling damp. It matched the mood in my chest.
At least, it would—until she arrived and turned it all on its head again.
••
The low hum of tyres crunching across gravel broke the silence. A knock followed—brief, perfunctory.
Sal stepped in, his grin as cheeky as ever.
“She’s downstairs.”
My heart stuttered. Skipped a beat. Then slammed back into rhythm like it had something to prove.
“Good,” I said, far too calmly for the chaos inside me. “Thanks.”
Sal gave a subtle nod—barely there, but laced with deference. Then he slipped out, closing the door behind him.
I stood, rolled up my sleeves, and made my way out. The hallway stretched ahead, far longer than it should have, and every step echoed with anticipation that clawed at my ribs.
Then I pushed open the front door.
And there she was.
Leaning against the sleek black car like she fúcking owned it, phone in hand, face tipped skywards. That hair—strawberry blonde, styled to perfection—shone beneath the overcast sky. She wore a black mid-length dress and boots that made me question the legality of such temptation.
The moment her gaze found mine, everything else vanished. The wind, the street noise, the entire city—gone.
Just her.
I approached, slow and steady, like a man nearing something dangeróus. Because that’s exactly what she was.
Dànger, cloaked in beauty and brilliance. In smirks and soft perfume and eyes that could carve out a man’s soul.
“Look at you,” I murmured, stopping just in front of her. “Still as gorgeous as ever. God, I missed you.”
And that didn’t even begin to cover it.
When she wasn’t around, I ached for her. Craved her. Her voice, her laugh, her blóody presence.
Genevieve smirked, entirely unapologetic. “Yeah? How much?”
I slid an arm around her waist and stepped in closer. “Very, very much, my love.” I pressed my lips to her temple. “I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I missed you too. More than you missed me.”
“Impossible.”
A defiant glint sparked in her eyes. “Not impossible, Dom. I missed you more. That’s why I wanted to surprise you.”
“You failed.”
“No,” she said, stepping closer, her breath brushing my cheek. “You ruinéd the surprise.”
I studied her face. Faint shadows beneath her eyes, the flush in her cheeks from London’s chill. My fingers itched to touch her, trace the edges of her weariness.
“Well, you can’t sue me for wanting to know where my fiancée is.”
“Hmm,” she breathed, lighter now, but her eyes… her eyes were something else.
That same pull. That deep, dangérous pull that always came with her. Undiluted love. Reckless, terrifyíng, beautiful.
Then she whispered, “I love you.”
I didn’t say a word.
I just reached out, curled my hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her—slowly. Like I had all the time in the world. Like I didn’t want to miss a single second of how she felt against me.
Her lips met mine with the gentlest pressure. No rush. No heat. Just warmth. Familiar and fragile, like something precious we’d clearly miss a lot.
She let out the softest sigh—barely audible—but it hit me like a blow to the chest. My other hand found her waist, steadying her. Steadying myself. Her fingers brushed my jaw, feather-light, tentative, as if she was afraid I might vanish if she held on too tightly.
We moved together in slow motion, mouths moulding and parting, finding that perfect rhythm. It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about need.
It was about feeling.
My thumb brushed along her jaw, feeling the faint tremble in her bones. She tasted like warmth and winter air, something sharp beneath something soft. Her perfume clung to her skin—floral, faintly spiced—and I wanted to bury myself in it.
I drank her in. Every little sound, every subtle shift of her breath, the heat of her skin against mine. My heart ached with it. With all of it.
By the time we pulled apart, the air between us was thick with something unspoken. Her eyes were still closed. Mine were burning.
I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in. Letting the silence hold everything I couldn’t quite say.
And for the first time in a while, something in me eased.
She was here.
She was real.
And in my arms again.
We slipped inside without a word. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing her into my space—our space, if I had anything to say about it.
She shrugged off her coat, draping it over the sofa with a quiet grace that made it feel like she’d never left. Her scent followed—sweet, subtly floral, undercut by something warm and familiar. It filled the room. Filled my lungs.
“Coffee?”
She shook her head.
“Tea?” I asked, already heading to the kitchen, because if I didn’t move, I’d pin her to the nearest wall and forget how to breathe.
“Please,” she called back, soft as anything.
I busied myself with the kettle, the clink of the spoon oddly loud in the silence. She didn’t follow. I could hear her padding around the sitting room, slow and thoughtful—like a cat reacquainting itself with territory it had once ruled.
When I returned, she was curled into the sofa’s corner, legs tucked beneath her, fingers wrapped around her phone.
“Tea,” I said, offering it.
Her hand brushed mine. Just a touch. But my pulse jumped all the same.
“Have you been sleeping?” I asked, settling beside her, my thumb absently stroking her thigh. “You look kinda tired.”
“A bit,” she murmured, eyes flicking up to mine. “You don’t look much better.”
I huffed a laugh. “Haven’t slept properly since…”
The sentence trailed off. Hung in the air, incomplete. But she knew. She’d always know.
Silence settled between us—not awkward. Thick. Full.
“I’m here now,” she whispered, voice low and sure. “I’ll help in whatever way I can.”
“Thanks. You can help by staying well out of it.”
“Alright.” A pause. Then, “Once all this is over… don’t forget the holiday you promised me, okay?”
“How could I forget?” I smiled, eyes roaming over her face. “There’s something different about you.”
“Oh? What?”
“I don’t know… You’re glowing.”
“But I thought I looked tired,” she teased.
I shrugged. “Maybe both.”
There was something new about her. Something I couldn’t quite name. But it was there. Lingering beneath the surface.
“I met a little girl at Adrianna’s house. She’s adorable.”
“You mean Ally?”
“You know her?”
“Yeah. Adrianna told Everett. Everett told Rory. Rory told me.” I explained “I saw her on the telly, too.”
“My sister and Xavier are planning to adopt her.”
“That’s brilliant.”
She nodded. Then turned to face me more directly, eyes searching. “Do you want kids?”
That question—simple on the surface, but layered beneath—hit me hard.
And I nodded. “With you? Of course.”
She looked… relieved. And then worried. As though she’d been bracing herself for the wrong answer.
“But not now,” I added gently.
The teacup trembled in her hands before she set it down. Her shoulders sagged. Then she shifted closer, resting her head against my shoulder.
That was all it took.
My arm wrapped around her, instinctive and firm. Protective. Possessive. Terrified.
“You alright?” I asked, pressing my nose to her hair. She smelled like something I’d only find in dreams.
“Mmm.” A soft hum against my chest.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
She wasn’t. I knew it. Her silence told me more than her words ever could.
“Having kids with you would be the third greatest gift life could give me,” I murmured, fingers brushing through her hair. “But with everything going on right now… kids can wait. We’ve got time, love.”
“I know.”
“Catching Viktor…” The name tasted like acid. “That’s all I can think about right now.”
“I know.” Softer this time.
“After that, we can have as many kids as you want.”
Genevieve looked up, head still against my chest. “That I want?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes were half-lidded now, sleep tugging at her, softening every line on her face.
“You going to fall asleep on me?”
“Maybe.” The corner of her lips lifted. “If I do, don’t move.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And I didn’t.
She drifted off minutes later, curled into me like she belonged there. Like the world outside didn’t matter.
And for once—I let myself feel everything.
She fell asleep on me.
Properly asleep.
One moment she was murmuring about Ally and children, the next—silence. Just the soft rhythm of her breath, warm against my collarbone.
She curled tighter into me, as if her body feared I’d disappear. I hadn’t moved a muscle. One hand rested at her waist, the other along her thigh, brushing absentmindedly over the soft fabric of her leggings.
She looked small. Breakable. A side of her the world never saw.
And I just… watched.
Her lashes, impossibly long, lay like shadows across her cheeks. Her lips, parted slightly, held the faint shimmer of gloss. I remembered the last time she’d fallen asleep beside me—legs tangled, breath soft against my chest.
That morning, I left before she woke.
But now, here she was again. In my arms. As if nothing had changed. As if everything had.
I was done for.
Absolutely, irreversibly done for.
The kind of man who’d do anything just for one more hour like this.
Nearly half an hour later, she stirred.
First a twitch of her fingers. Then her nose wrinkled against my shirt.
“Mmh… Dominic?”
“Still here,” I murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep. She blinked slowly, like she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.
“I’m hungry,” she mumbled. “Let’s order something.”
“It’s the afternoon.”
“Exactly. Prime food time.”
“I’ll cook for you.”
“It’ll take too long.”
“It won’t.”
“Fine,” she sighed, sitting up and stretching like a cat. “Surprise me.”
I stood, about to head to the kitchen, when she called out softly.
“Dom?”
“Hm?”
“Give me a kiss?”
She puckered her lips—and looked so f+cking adorable, I nearly lost my mind.
My throat tightened.
I leaned down and kissed her—just a peck.
She pouted. “Just that?”
I nodded once. “Because if I kiss you again, I won’t stop.”
She blinked, still half-asleep. “So?”
“So no kisses until after you’ve eaten. Then we can kiss for as long as you like.”
I didn’t take today off work for nothing.
She narrowed her eyes. “What if I can’t wait?”
“You’ll have to.”
“Waiting sucks.”
“I know,” I said simply.
She studied me again. Eyes clearer now. That magnetic pull between us flared up once more.
She lifted her fingers, brushing my jaw. “Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
She gestured vaguely. “Like that.”
I closed my eyes, leaned forward until our foreheads touched. Let her feel it all.
The need. The madnéss. The peace.
And for just a little while longer, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—everything might turn out all right.
TBC📖✍️
