Trying to mentally wrestle a knee-jerk reaction to the ground, Domineau studied her reflection, fighting her urges before she reacted stupidly and ruined a little kid’s fun.

Memories from a long-dead past crowded in on every side. She struggled to fend them off and ended up shaking from the effort. Arctic chills swept her neck and moved from shoulder to shoulder while heat engulfed her front and made the moment even more uncomfortable with boob sweat.

Molly stood next to her gazing in the big mirror, only the little girl’s expression was rapturous. They were dressed in coordinating princess outfits. Domineau fought the urge to vomit. She and her mom were known to wear matching outfits. In the jewelry box on her dresser, shoved under a mound of velvet and organza bags, was a picture of them dressed like Wilma and Betty from the Flintstones.

“Rina,” Molly gushed. Her voice was hushed with awe. “You look just like Elsa!”

Did she?

The elaborate cosplay gown came straight from the adult section of Frozen knock-offs. Blue and shimmery with a thigh-high leg slit show ’n’ tell, the damn thing fit her like a glove. Add a pair of bedazzled stiletto platform pumps and an Elsa wig with blue Swarovski snowflake crystals and the look was complete.

She scowled at her reflection. Whose fucking idea was this?

And then Rafe’s little girl hugged her around the waist. Domineau closed her eyes. The war raging inside was at full fury. She fought against the cowardice that kept her in a constant state of anger. It was so much easier and less complicated to wall off her emotions.

“Thanks,” Molly’s little girl voice chirped.

She felt like a rusty toy as her hand creaked awkwardly and wavered before eventually patting the kid on the head. Her arm went around Molly’s shoulders. The horrifying feeling that tears were gathering made Domineau’s spine stiffen.

After a minute, she loosened the side hug and changed the subject as best as she knew how. In a voice choked with emotion, she made a fuss over Molly’s Princess Aurora costume. The kid made an adorable Sleeping Beauty.

“Do you think Daddy will be Prince Charming?”

Jesus, lord. What a question!

“He promised he’d try.”

“Let’s take a selfie!” The energetic princess ran to the table where Domineau had dropped her phone, grabbed it, and practically shoved it into her hands. Molly climbed onto an ottoman and stood as tall as she could. “You’re blue, and I’m pink!”

Having figured out that a single selfie would never do, she clicked off a bunch of posed shots.

“Do you have Granny’s number?”

The innocent question landed in Domineau’s gut like a fifty-pound weight. No, she most certainly did not have Rafe’s mother’s number. Mothers were not on her agenda.

“I’ll forward the pictures to your dad. Now let’s get out of these costumes and hang them up. I don’t know about you, but I could use a glass of lemonade.”

She thought nothing of stripping down to her skivvies as she helped Molly take off the elaborate princess costume. The zipper on the dress was acting wonky, so she dropped onto the ottoman and tried to fix it. At eyeball level with the kid who was overly interested in how she planned to handle the misbehaving zipper, the scar on her chest was too prominent for the smart little girl to miss.

Molly stepped into Domineau’s personal space and touched the ridged scar.

“You got a boo-boo,” the child whispered. “Did it hurt?”

Horror and agony squeezed her throat shut. Did a gunshot wound above your heart qualify as a boo-boo? What hurt more? Being shot or the soul-destroying pain of her brother’s betrayal?

Her head moved back and forth in a lame shake. Sharing her torment with a kid didn’t seem like a good idea although some part of her wanted to. Even at her young age, Molly had her father’s capacity for empathy.

Kids didn’t wait for conversation pivots or convenient openings. They just plowed straight ahead.

“My daddy has some scars. One here,” the child mumbled as her fingers pointed at her waist.

Domineau knew all about Rafe’s scars and especially the one Molly referred to. The nasty jagged scar, souvenir of a mission gone wrong, was one reason she’d never be able to cut her government cord completely. When she discovered that Rafe had been compromised and was in deep shit Idaho, she’d called in a few favors. Those favors secured his release, though her part of his messy rescue remained confidential.

“Soldiers have scars,” she mumbled as if that was an explanation.

Hurriedly donning her work clothes, she was less frazzled once dressed.

Rafe was leading a class at the Double M, so she’d volunteered to do the babysitting. Lately, Domineau mused, quite a bit of her time involved waiting in car lanes at schools. First, there was Kori and now Molly. Who’d have ever figured that she’d be a pro at dropping off and picking up?

Her conscience wagged a finger and sniggered. By taking over when Rafe wasn’t around and the eyes of others weren’t on them, she was oddly comfortable stepping in as a substitute mom. She and Molly played, watched a carefully curated list of acceptable TV, did homework, and hung out. Most times, they even ate dinner as a duo. All without expectation or judgment.

What bothered her, though, was that last part. The expectation and judgment. It wasn’t external. In this instance, the call was most definitely coming from inside the building. She was her own worst enemy.

Tonight’s dinner consisted of spaghetti and mini meatballs that Domineau made at home—when no one was looking—and froze until she needed them. The mini meatballs were something her mom did.

Molly’s table manners were proof of her father’s influence. Rafe insisted on decorum at meals and when in public. He said his mother, a renowned free-spirited feminist, was a strong believer in observing the proprieties. According to Lisette D’Alessandro, peace, love, and equality did not need to come at the expense of mannerly norms.

They used fabric napkins because Molly informed them that disposable napkins and paper towels hurt the environment. She wasn’t joking either. After outlawing contraband paper products, the household acquired enough cotton squares to fill a basket. Being a competent helper monkey, Molly made a ceremony out of folding the napkins after they came out of the laundry.

The topic of the Double M costume parade came up again.

“Bella says Finn is making booberry muffins to give out. Isn’t that funny?”

Domineau checked the time. Hopefully, Rafe would be home soon. Not because she was eager to hand off his kid but because she genuinely missed him.

The after-dinner cleanup was a snap. They were hunkered down in the family room with Molly in her pajamas when the man of the house finally got home.

In no time at all, Molly had caught him up. Homework was a breeze, and dinner was yummy. Rina had pictures on her phone of them dressed as princesses for him to send to Granny.

He looked at her when Molly revealed this piece of news. "You played dress-up?" She heard the gentle teasing and rolled her eyes.

The day was done, and it was late for Molly. This was their daddy and daughter time. Domineau left them to it and went straight to Rafe's bedroom.

They tried only doing sleepovers and dates on the weekends when babysitting was available, but they were too hot for each other to handle days and days of separation. So they tried taking the discreet route, figuring that after Molly fell asleep, as long as they were reasonably quiet, what harm was there?

The twinkle in Rafe's eyes when Molly told him about playing dress-up gave her an idea. She didn't doubt for a second that when he finished daddy duty and came to find her, he'd be a typical guy and ask for a runway walk in full costume.

A snorting chuckle shot from her throat. Grabbing the overnight bag she lugged everywhere, Domineau headed for the en suite bathroom and fought to keep from laughing her ass off. Playtime with Rafael D'Alessandro was just about the most fun she knew how to have, and what she had planned was sure to crack him up.

Coming home at the end of the day to find Domineau and Molly lounging around made him ridiculously happy. His two girls had formed a close bond even though his girlfriend was determined to act like he was either imagining things or tried to pass it off as no big deal.

Yeah, fuck that noise. Domineau connecting with her feminine side was the biggest of big deals. What she'd lived through, the cold-blooded murder of her parents right in front of her eyes, that kind of shit left scars, and he wasn't referring to the one on her chest.

His chatty daughter unloaded chapter and verse as he went through her bedtime ritual.

Rina picked her up from school and gave the car-line safety ladies a box of donuts.

Rina checked her homework.

Rina made mini meatballs.

Rina let her watch five minutes of Family Guy and made his kid crack up with her mimicking of Lois's shrill, "Peetah!" Apparently, Domineau's delivery was so high-larious that Molly wanted a dog that she could name Peter just so the two could laugh every time Rina called for the mutt.

Rina kept a baggie of chocolate meringues in her purse. This reveal made him chuckle. Presently, the Justice gals were experiencing a group hard-on for the airy clouds that melted on the tongue. Carmen and Ria made trays of the yummy treats and left them all around the compound. Until you've experienced a group of hardened warriors and ass-kicking security types standing around nibbling meringues while critiquing the homemade treat, well, ya hadn't really lived.

But the topper of reveals from his loquacious daughter was the part about them dressing up like princesses.

At no point in his unconventional upbringing and certainly not in his adult life had Rafe ever given much thought to things like dressing up and role-playing. Not until recently. After he picked up his life and moved to Arizona and Domineau also relocated, they were forced to confront the fact that they had a serious relationship, despite the crazy way it began. Warzones and weapons weren't the best settings for romance.

Being together now unlocked a previously unknown facet to his badass lover's personality. The prickly and fierce Domineau Rivera had a fun-loving side that quite delightfully spilled over into their scorching hot sex life. Was he surprised that she had a knack for putting the fun in their kink? Fuck, yeah!

He quietly shut Molly's bedroom door after one last look at his sleeping angel. Bringing the two halves of his life together had been a gamble. Not knowing what to expect meant he wasn't prepared when Molly blew his solid adult plan out of the water, sidestepped his go-slow approach, and emotionally wrestled Domineau to the ground.

His smile was predatory as he made his way to the master suite. He hoped his lover understood that he expected her to model the Halloween getup that she so far had refused to let him see. Domineau modeling anything, anything at all, even a tool belt or a pair of camo pants was the first stop on a sizzling hot path that ended with his big dick in her hot pussy.

The first thing he noticed in his bedroom was the music coming from the bathroom. His laugh was reflex. With them semi-living together, specific boundary rules had been agreed on. His only hard limit where personal space or privacy was concerned had to do with the time he spent in his dojo. Immersive meditation, for lack of a better description, was essential to his well-being. What lay in his heart did not always blend well or easily with his actions, and he had his mother and aunts to thank for showing him the difference. The things he’d done for his country came from duty. He hadn’t woken up one morning and decided to go kill the bad guys. Balancing honor and duty with peace, love, and brotherhood did not always come easily.

Domineau’s no-go zones were of an entirely different nature. She did not struggle internally or whine about body counts. To his utter astonishment, her boundaries mainly involved female stuff.

When they were on a mission, peeing side by side in the desert was kind of unavoidable. At the time, it was a given that she was one of them. Entirely. As in not just being one of the guys but a guy. Separating Domineau the woman from Smoke the warrior wasn't easy, but it certainly got more comfortable as the war got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

In their present-day circumstances, his lady had a thing about the bathroom. He was welcome to intrude unless music was playing. Music was his cue to stay back and stand clear. If he stepped over the music line, Rafe harbored no doubt whatsoever that he’d be a eunuch in the aftermath.

Hmm. She'd had plenty of time to shower, shit, shave, and get a manicure while he was with Molly. That she was hunkered in the bathroom after so long a time might suggest she was planning something.

Whatever, he thought. He'd find out soon enough what she was up to.

As he went about his nightly routine, Rafe's brows shot up when the song abruptly ended, and a few seconds later, “Rhiannon” began to play at a much softer volume. Emptying his pockets with haste, he toed off his shoes and lost the socks with Olympic level speed. When he was down to the basics—shirt, no belt, pants unbuttoned with just briefs underneath—he took a seat in his favorite armchair, the one big enough for two, and waited.

Anticipation was a powerful turn-on, and his lady was setting him up with a masterful tease. When he caught a whiff of her perfume, the words bewitching and sultry came to mind.

“Rhiannon” faded. Rafe grinned as he waited for what was next on Domineau's seduction playlist. He nearly bolted from the chair, kicked open the bathroom door, and threw her to the floor for a savage mauling when the distinctive thrum of a 60s classic—that she only knew because he told her once that his mom loved the song—filled the air. It was Donovan's “Season of the Witch.” The scene she was setting had nothing to do with princesses.

When the song ended, the door slowly widened, and the bathroom light flicked off. Showtime. Rafe licked his lips and adjusted the hard-on threatening to rip open the zipper on his pants.

The next song? “Black Magic Woman.” He smirked. She was that good. Good gave way to astonishing and astonishing moved aside for mesmerizing when Domineau Rivera slid around the corner and assumed a seductive pose that emptied his brain.

Where to start? Well, first of all, holy fuckballz.

His eyes widened as she began to dance around the room. Her outfit was best described as naughty witch intersecting with a bad-to-the-bone sorceress. Wearing a clingy strapless black bodysuit that made her tits the star of the show, she cast a fetching spell in fishnets and pump stilettos that combined to make her long legs look astonishing. A black choker and a delightfully sexy witch hat with a tulle ribbon completed the look.

Domineau was an accomplished dancer. He watched her enticing performance as she whirled around his bedroom using the furniture as props. The lady made ballet sexy as fuck with her long legs and graceful movements. She made the most of the song. He admired her skill and willingly fell deeper under the spell she was weaving.

A majestic, slow-motion cartwheel left him staggered, but when she ended in a very suggestive split and arched her back for effect, he quickly took off his pants before the constriction caused severe damage to his cock.

The song ended, and Domineau stood. She grinned while she posed. He saw the twinkle in her eyes when what he expected was smoky desire. Oh my god. There was more.

In a growling drawl as she fanned herself, she smirked, and said, “You know what that songs needs?”

Rafe knew the answer and laughed! “More cowbell?”

She chuckled and gave him an enthusiastic high five and then in what was best described as a tour de force with epic and legendary panache, he was treated to an energetic lap dance by his enchantress made memorable by the song she chose.

“Monster Mash.”

He laughed. She gyrated and teased. He laughed some more. When she did a twerky reverse-witch straddle and ground against his throbbing erection, his wicked lady gave the Transylvania Twist a naughty new meaning.

Strutting in an outrageous pair of heels came far easier than Domineau imagined. The way she adjusted her center to find balance was similar to prancing about in toe shoes. Suddenly, she understood how strippers made it look so easy!

Rafe’s face as she pirouetted and floated through a wicked ballet spurred her on. A dozen tags came to mind.

Amused.

Receptive.

Rapacious.

Primal.

Only Rafael D’Alessandro could make the opposites sexy as hell.

She loved “Black Magic Woman.” It was a great song. The sexy guitar and steady beat gave her a lot to work with. By the end of the song, Domineau was certain she would score straight tens after executing a flawless cartwheel and dropping into a full split—heels and all. The suggestive back arch was pure inspiration that Rafe’s expression suggested that he appreciated very much.

Rising to her feet, she laughed and fanned cool air onto her neck. “Know what this song needs?” she asked.

“More cowbell?” he replied.

They slapped palms in a rowdy high five and then her bring it home song started. She gave this careful thought and concluded that no other tune than the classic “Monster Mash” would do.

Calling on some recital moves from another lifetime, she performed a campy but seductive routine that put a scorching hot grin on her bald giant’s face. The lap dance moves were courtesy of a Google search. Knowing full well what she was inviting, Domineau mounted Rafe’s muscular tree stump thighs, put her hands on his knees for balance, and wagged her ass in his face. The reverse straddle was a shameless provocation. She smiled, bit her lip, and performed a lap dance tornado on his spectacular bulge. The grinding swirl took her breath away, and to be honest, with a climax within easy reach, she nearly threw a fuck it and went for it.

His big, strong palm slapped her ass, causing a shockwave of blinding lust to ricochet through her body. Her fingers dug into his knees when she twerked on his bulge and ground against him in slow motion.

Rafe grabbed her hips and held her down. There was no mistaking the strength of his hard-on as she melted on top of him.

Beyond turned on, her mind raced along with her breathing. She was deciding her next move when Rafe let go and pushed her forward. Standing on surprisingly weak legs, she pivoted to search his face and found a volcano of heat erupting in his expression. She’d summoned Rafe’s wild man. Licking her lips for moisture, Domineau eyed his lap to gauge what awaited her.

His black cotton briefs left little doubt to how ferociously aroused he was. The prominent bulge called to her and made warm, gooey things happen inside.

“Strip,” he grunted. “Slowly. And leave the hat for now.”

A performance was a performance, she thought, whether she was dancing or stripping, so she made what she could have of the command.

Shimmying out of the tight, stretchy bodysuit was fun. So was peeling off the sexy fishnet stockings. Rafe watched like a hawk and casually massaged his bulge. When she was naked except for the witchy hat, she assumed a classic wide-legged Wonder Woman pose and let him take his time inspecting every inch of her body from toes to head.

He liked what he saw and didn’t hide his pleasure. “You’ve cast a spell on my cock.”

She grinned, and the word idiot came to mind.

With all the coquettish innocence her inner wanton could muster, she giggle-simpered a question that took a blowtorch to the heat level in the room.

“Is it hard?”

Knowing full well that he’d take her question as a challenge, she offered a snarky smirk and blew him a kiss.

“Hard is a subjective term,” her wild man growled. “Perhaps you’d like to take matters into your own hands and see if additional hardness is required?”

Domineau experienced a staggering pulse of spine-tingling awareness right where it counted. Without knowing why—perhaps a leftover primal reflex—she covered the thatch of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. Could he smell her desire?

He put his hands down at his sides and thrust his hips upward once.

The spell she directed at Rafe bounced back and invaded her senses. She moved forward, mesmerized by his amazing body. In the soft bedroom light, he looked bigger and badder than usual. His chest was massive; in fact, everything about his physique appeared mighty and fearsome.

His towering bulge beckoned to her. She drifted down and crawled closer. Her wild man’s eyes turned smoky and dangerous. A sweet, thrilling tingle raced up and down her spine. She liked his type of dangerous. Very much.

“Good,” he grunted. “On your knees, yes. Very good.”

Her eyes snapped to his. She had never gotten on her knees for any man except him. His feral smile told her he damn well knew it.

He teased her, and she laughed although her amusement did not diminish her excitement in any way.

“The hat is very fetching. You should wear it at work or, at the very least, keep it on display there. Effective prop to scare the shit out of people.”

She touched the headpiece. “It’s rather jaunty, isn’t it?”

Rafe reached for the fingers fiddling with that hat and moved them to his straining bulge. “I think my cock in your throat would make a jaunty fit.”

Yep, yep, yep. The tingling increased. Gagging on Rafe’s substantial dick took effort, but she was up for it.

Tugging playfully on the waistband of his briefs, she pulled the fabric away from his body and peeked at what was hidden from view.

“Oh my,” she murmured. His dick really was spectacular and worthy of her gushing reaction.

Rafe’s meticulous manscaping was a head-to-toe thing, and nobody rocked the look quite like her man did. He did, however, leave her a zone of soft body hair that framed his manhood. This patch of manly bush never failed to set a match to her fire.

She reached into his briefs and sighed as her hand wrapped around his pleasing girth. Scooping his spectacular cock out of the briefs was done with the reverence accorded a holy object.

Enthralled with handling Rafe’s formidable erection, she barely noticed when he pushed the briefs down his legs and spread his beefy thighs to give her total clearance. Domineau lost no time claiming a space on her knees between his wide spread legs.

The seductive, tactile exploration she unleashed made her heart pound. Her fingers barely touched when she gripped the base of his cock. He grunted when she got busy with his balls.

“Enough,” he growled. “Open your mouth.”

Domineau felt the heated blush as it moved across her chest, up her neck, and onto her face. This was new. Her willingness to be directed. Each time she responded, she wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Him or her.

Removing her hands from his body, she sat back on her feet and obediently opened her mouth. The primal power play made her quiver.

“Tongue,” Rafe demanded.

She shuddered as her tongue slid out.

Her world shifted when he chuckled, put his hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her mouth onto his cock. No prelude, no teasing, no easing into it.

Her snuffling grunt as his thick cock advanced along her tongue and nudged the back of her throat was met by an approving growl.

“All of it, Domineau.”

Oh, hell yeah, all of it, she thought as her throat relaxed, and she swallowed as much of his sexy hardness as possible.

Rafe relaxed and let out a deep groan. He stopped directing and let her run the show. In no time at all, her excitement prodded Domineau to suck the fucking shit out of his cock. Deep throating Rafe was one of life’s true delights. His size and control made the act a challenge, but there wasn’t much she enjoyed more than a D’Alessandro challenge.

Holding him with both hands, she angled his cock and got serious. Not caring if it was fucked up that she actually enjoyed triggering her gag reflex, she got into it with enthusiasm until he strained, grunted, and barked at her to stop.

“Ass up, Domineau. Face down.”

She moved fast and offered her aching pussy with a back arch that pleaded for his possession. He slapped her ass. She quivered.

There hadn’t been any foreplay. No kissing, nothing. Just mouth and cock. Her dance led to this promise of a primitive coupling that made her center quake.

His hands were not gentle when he parted her and growled his satisfaction. “Wet and wanting.” He chuckled and spread her wetness around to make fucking her easier.

“Face on the carpet, babe. And I want to see your eyes as I fuck you.”

Shaking, she complied, and her eyes felt wild as they locked gazes. He leered at her and spanked her ass with real force.

“My woman likes it wild.”

Her answer was an ass wiggle. He took it from there.

Sometimes, taking Rafe’s big cock was a bit rough, and this was one of those times. Despite her excitement, the simple fact that he was huge made for a lot of grunting and effort before he thrust in all the way.

He put both hands on her hips and adjusted her body for the perfect fit. A rush of molten arousal coated his dick and made the movement sound like sin. With a hand on the small of her back, he pushed her into an arching position that gave him enough room to push deeper. She groaned from the exquisite sensation of fullness.

Another firm ass slap made her whole body quiver.

“Ready to be fucked?” he grunted.

“Rafe,” she groaned.

He slapped her ass again hard, and the shockwave made her pussy throb around his cock.

“Answer the question. Are. You. Ready. To. Be. Fucked?”

Shuddering as desire sent her spiraling, she wiggled her ass and gave him the answer he demanded.

“Yes, Rafael. Yes, please.”

His satisfaction came out as an earthy grunt. It took less than a dozen full body slams to push her over the edge. She came with his glorious cock buried in her as she throbbed, quivered, and shook.

“Nicely done, baby,” he praised as the thrusting continued without pause. “So creamy,” he growled with manly wonder.

At some point, she surrendered and lost her grasp on decorum. Grunting wildly as he plunged in and out, Domineau voiced her pleasure—something she did not find easy.

“Oh god,” she cried when he stroked deep and stopped. His cock was huge, and she needed to come. Needed to give him her pleasure.

He held her waist and pulled her hard onto his rigid staff. Impaled and mindless, she wiggled shamelessly.

“Squeeze my cock, Domineau. Hard.”

She did as he said.

“Now relax.”

She did that too.

He caressed her ass.

“Again,” Rafe demanded.

Domineau repeated the fierce squeeze and release several times. She was whimpering and mindless when he grunted and began thundering in and out in a furious rhythm that took her under in no time.

Her lover’s cock was relentless. He stroked and stroked and stroked until she cried his name and came with a flood that didn’t stop. Shivering like crazy, she held on as he unleashed the full fury of his possession. He fucked with a ferocity that shook her up. He had her hips in a death grip as his body jerked wildly.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Somehow, he got her on her back where he continued to thrust without stopping. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she was transported to another realm when his tongue in her mouth mirrored his cock plunging in and out of her body.

She cried out as his cock released deep in her pussy, and a surprising pulse signaled her third orgasm.

Along the way, her witchy hat landed on the floor. She didn’t need it anymore. The spell she cast gave her exactly what she wanted.

Rafe kissed her passionately before pulling her into a spooning cuddle right there on the floor. His hand cupped her breast as he licked and kissed a path across her shoulders.

Domineau felt like she should say something—maybe crack a joke—but the moment felt oddly significant, so she remained silent and simply enjoyed being in Rafe’s arms.