In a world torn between heroes and villains, it can be a dangerous and hostile place. Some take comfort in the Gifted that stand up against those who would use their powers for greed and chaos. While others choose to hide away, fearful of the day...
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What the fuck am I doing?
Everything hurt as one of the strongest, snarkiest, and sexiest women he's ever met pressed herself into his body and drank in his soul through his lips. Anyone attracted to someone like her would throw all caution to the wind and ride the wave of lust and desire that threatened to capsize them both. Despite the sloshing quality of his thoughts, which grew murky and shallow every time she nibbled his lip, he attempted to regain control and recall his purpose, the single driving factor in his life and the only thing that has kept him going since Alessandra.
He needed to create space between them, and if his body refused to tear itself from the press of her soft breasts or the heat pooling between her legs, then he would separate himself from her mentally.
So he thought of his home.
It sat upon a lofty hill overlooking the sprawling jungle of San Francisco. Everything had a place and an order. His suits were arranged by cut and color; his cuff links matched with complimentary shirts; and his ties were assigned to a partner pair of socks. In his kitchen, the spices were in alphabetical order; his knives arranged from shortest to longest; and his dinnerware meticulously polished and displayed. Expert mechanics maintained his assortment of cars, bikes, and a single helicopter; cleaned and buffed them every other week; and gave them a full tune up every few months.
In his business, he kept a team of assistants armed with expertly organized files to answer any question he had about their current projects, which aimed to further the might of robotic technology. He expected his laboratories and manufacturing hubs to be clean, orderly, and up to code. He required his project leads to provide a biweekly report, which he would read cover to cover, often multiple times. There would be no loopholes, no mistakes, and no surprises.
Mir, however, broke all of Dominic's rules. She lived in a tiny home where things were stored in whatever corner she could find space; she wore mismatched clothing that she must have put on in the dark; and she forced him to question his unbreakable resolve to kill the Gifted. And that's what Mir threatened. He still had more to do in his crusade to tear the Fortress down and reveal the twisted innards that slithered behind the clean-cut walls. If she got too close, got too attached; if she seeks him out after he leaves; if she tells anyone about the man who fell from the sky, then this reclusive goddess will single-handedly destroy all the momentum he had gained. He needed to break free before he found himself stuck between a wall and a very attractive body.
That being said, he might have already been in that delightful position.
Somehow, with the use of his one good leg and her upper body strength, Dominic and Mir managed to get him up onto the sofa. There he lay sprawled out beneath her as she straddled his eager hips and tossed her various pillows onto the floor to make room for his broad shoulders. He'd growl with every bruise she'd inadvertently touch, but when she'd pull away in apology, he chased her lips so he could draw her back into the heat and desire wafting from his body.
