Meet Dirty Dom in this
fantastic stand-alone!
I’d like
to tell you that I’m ok.
That the
meaningless sex with countless women has somehow numbed the pain. That it’s
deciphered the constant confusion in my head. Eased the self-hatred that sinks
into my gut every time I look in the mirror.
I’d like
to tell you that time heals all wounds.
That we
evolve and grow into well-adjusted, stable adults, set on a path to right the
world’s wrongs. That we are not our past…we
are not our pain.
I want to
tell you all those things. Hell, I want to believe
all those things. But I’d be lying. I’m good at that. Living a lie is the only
way I truly know how to survive.
But the
day I saw her, I stopped surviving. I stopped existing. And for the first time
in 24 years, I started living.
She
brought me back to life. Set me free and sent my soul soaring. Made this
useless shell of a man feel like…something.
Something whole and real and good.
She saved me.
Although
she believes I wasn’t even worth saving.
This story chronicles the journey of Dominic
Trevino, a character from Fear of Falling.
However, it can be read as a standalone.
I approached her slowly, letting my eyes take in her soft,
feminine curves. That’s what I loved the most about women—their softness, their
delicateness. It made them appear breakable, just like me. And it made me
appreciate that vulnerability, in hopes that someone could—and would—one day,
appreciate mine.
That’s why even though I never offered more than a few hours
of toe-curling pleasure, I assured each second was spent tending to their
sexual desires and making them feel treasured. Just because I was a whore, it
didn’t make me callous or uncaring. If anything, it made me more aware of my
humanity.
I pushed it all away, trading my own hang-ups and
idiosyncrasies for the mental numbness that sex could provide and did what I do
best: Fuck. I was good at this part—touching, kissing, licking. And when we
were both ready—too ravenous with desire to consider my aversions—I drove into
her slowly, all the way to the hilt. Until her body completely covered mine and
soothed the ache of loneliness with wet warmth. This was the feeling I had been
chasing since I was just a child, barely a man. That sweet oblivion that only
mindless sex could provide. I was made whole by emptying myself into another,
and for the barest of moments, I became separate from my pain and anger. I
became the type of man that could look himself in the mirror and not see the
horror of his past standing behind him, its razor sharp claws cutting into the
skin of his shoulders while it smiled in that sinister way that still made my
skin crawl.
I had seen that malevolence in my dreams every day since as
long as I could remember. Sometimes it was in the form of a smile, a laugh.
Sometimes it wore the face of ecstasy and passion. But it was always
terrifying.
I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling long after Alyssa
had passed out in blissful exhaustion. She came twice, once by my tongue, the
other with her ankles on my shoulders. She was a screamer, and I kept wondering
if Angel would bust in here, wondering if I was fucking or killing the girl. Then,
if Alyssa was up for it, she’d join, like she had just this past weekend with
Cherri. It wasn’t that we wanted each other in that way—oh hell no. We were
just better…together. It made it even easier to get out of our heads and lost
in the movement of our bodies.
It was co-dependent like a motherfucker. And unhealthy. And
unconventional. But it was all we knew.
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Fear of Falling (A Fearless
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