MADDEST OBSESSION - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

Dominic had always been a man of rituals.
Every morning, Aria would wake to the same sounds—the quiet hum of city traffic filtering in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, the clink of his cufflinks, the scent of espresso already brewing.
He moved through his world with silent power, commanding everything without raising his voice. Not even to her.
That morning was no different. Except for the weight pressing on Aria’s chest.
She sat in the center of the bed, a silk robe wrapped around her. The night before still lingered on her skin. Her thighs were sore. Her lips swollen. But it wasn’t the physical aftermath that haunted her.
It was what Dominic had said when he walked away:
"You gave me what was already mine."
He entered the bedroom without knocking.
Dominic's gaze drifted over her, unreadable. Controlled. Always.
“You’re not dressed.”
Her jaw tensed. “You didn’t tell me I had somewhere to be.”
A flicker of warning crossed his eyes. “I don’t need to.”
He turned and walked toward the closet. “Put on the green dress. You’re coming with me tonight.”
Aria didn’t move.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave the penthouse.”
Dominic paused. Slowly turned.
His voice was dangerously calm. “You’re testing me.”
She stood. Chin lifted.
“No. I’m reminding you that I’m not furniture. I’m not just something you dress up and move around when it fits your mood.”
A silence stretched between them.
Then, he crossed the room in three slow steps.
“You’re right,” he whispered, fingers brushing her cheek. “You’re not furniture. You’re fire. And I’m the fool who thought he could hold it without getting burned.”
His thumb slid along her lower lip. “But I’ve decided to burn anyway.”
Before she could speak, he kissed her.
Hard.
Controlling.
The kind of kiss that made her forget why she was angry… only remember how he tasted when he was furious.
He didn’t wait. He pushed her onto the bed, parting her robe as if he were peeling away the last layer of her resistance.
“Say it,” he growled against her throat. “Say you’re mine.”
“I—” Aria gasped as he slid his hand between her thighs, already teasing her, building pressure until her words came out as a breathless moan.
“Dominic…”
“Say it.”
“No.”
He stilled.
Her refusal was a spark—dangerous, defiant.
But instead of punishing her, he leaned in, lips grazing her ear.
“You think you still have a choice, sweetheart?”
Then he dragged her robe off completely and flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her into the mattress with one hand at her nape.
“Let me remind you how wrong you are.”
What followed wasn’t gentle.
He took his time.
Used his hands, his mouth, his voice.
Worshipped her and punished her at the same time—pulling pleasure out of her until she was trembling, broken, begging.
Not for him to stop.
But for more.
Only when she was crying out his name like a prayer did he finally release her, collapsing beside her like a man trying to chain himself to sanity.
They lay in silence for a long time.
Aria turned to him, breathing heavy. “You can’t keep doing this. Using my body every time I push back.”
He didn’t look at her.
“You’re wrong,” he said coldly. “I use your body to remind you that you still belong to me—especially when your mind starts forget
ting.”
She closed her eyes.
Tears didn’t fall. Not yet.
But a storm had begun.
Not in him.
In her.