His To Break

Chapter Four – The Choice She Made

The Choice She Made

The morning sun crept into her tiny apartment through dusty blinds, but Elena didn’t move. She lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

She had made the call.

She had stepped into the car.

And she had returned with more questions than she left with.

Dominic hadn’t touched her. Not even once.

He had just looked at her. Like she was something to be figured out, not claimed. Like she wasn’t a product on a shelf, but a puzzle with missing pieces.

He hadn’t told her what would come next—but somehow, she already knew. Whatever came, she couldn’t live in both worlds.

Not this one. Not anymore.

She rose from bed, moved like someone walking away from a fire. Picked up her cheap phone and pressed a name she wasn’t ready to erase yet.

“Amaka.”

Her best friend answered on the third ring.

“Elena? Babe! You’ve been ghosting me.”

“I know,” Elena said softly, “and I’m sorry. I just… I’ve made a decision.”

“What kind of decision?” Amaka’s voice turned suspicious.

“I’m not coming to the restaurant again. I’m quitting.”

“What?! Are you mad? Did that i***t manager fire you again?”

“No,” she said. “It’s my choice. I’m doing something else now.”

“What ‘something else’? Girl, don’t scare me.”

Elena hesitated.

Then: “Just… don’t look for me for a while, okay? I’ll check in when I can. But don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Silence.

Then: “Fine? Elena, this doesn’t sound like you. Are you into something illegal? Are you—”

“I love you, Amaka. Please trust me.”

She ended the call before her courage ran out.

Then she walked to the mirror, looked herself in the eye.

“You made this choice,” she whispered. “Now live with it.”

⸻

Later That Afternoon

The city buzzed outside her window. She stared at her phone again.

She didn’t want to call him.

But she did.

Dominic.

One ring. Two. Three.

He answered with that smooth voice that felt like smoke and secrets.

“Ready?”

That’s all he said.

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her.

“Yes.”

⸻

Thirty Minutes Later

The black car pulled up again. He didn’t send someone. He came himself.

This time, she wasn’t in heels or makeup. She wore jeans and a clean top, her hair tied back. Still, he opened the car door for her like she was a queen.

As she slid into the seat, their eyes met.

No words.

Just a silence that buzzed louder than traffic.

They drove without talking for minutes.

Then, his voice came low, careful.

“You look tired.”

“I quit my job,” she replied, staring ahead. “Walked away from everything I know.”

He nodded.

“And you didn’t ask me for anything in return. That’s rare.”

“I’m not here to beg.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t like beggars.”

She smirked despite herself.

“But,” he added, “I do like women who know how to make hard decisions.”

His hand brushed hers—just lightly—on the leather seat.

A spark.

Maybe accidental.

Maybe not.

She didn’t pull away.

⸻

That Night

He took her to a high-rise apartment—not cold or flashy, but surprisingly warm. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Wooden shelves. A record player in the corner. It didn’t feel like a trap. It felt… lived in.

He brought her wine. Not champagne. Wine.

And they sat.

Talked.

Laughed.

She told him about her childhood—bits and pieces.

He told her how he’d left Italy at fifteen.

“You don’t talk like someone who kills people,” she said, smiling slightly.

“And you don’t look like someone who just abandoned their whole life.”

They stared at each other. Seconds ticking.

Then his fingers brushed her cheek.

“May I?”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t stop him.

When his lips touched hers, it wasn’t violent or urgent.

It was… searching.

And for the first time in a long time, Elena let herself feel something other than fear.

⸻

His lips moved over hers slowly, like he was reading a language he’d never spoken before. Elena didn’t pull away. She didn’t know how to. The warmth of his mouth, the scent of his cologne, the way his hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck—it was dizzying.

She had never been kissed. At all.

And it wasn’t the type of kiss she’d imagined in those quiet moments growing up. It wasn’t all fireworks and violins it was more like… drowning in a whisper.

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes searching hers.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

She hadn’t realized until he said it. Her fingers trembled where they clung to his shirt.

“I’ve never done this,” she whispered.

His hand froze.

Then: “You mean…?”

She nodded, unable to say the word.

He pulled away just enough to give her space, his breath slightly uneven, but his eyes… gentler now.

“Elena,” he said, voice gravel-soft. “ f**k! We don’t have to. I swear to you. I’ll wait. We’ll wait. No pressure. Not tonight.”

That should’ve comforted her. And it did.

But something inside her twisted.

Because for the first time in her life, she wanted this.

She wanted him.

It wasn’t about proving anything or chasing anything it was something more primal. Something only her body could understand. Something raw.

Her thighs clenched. Her breath grew shallow.

She felt it—wetness soaking into the lace of her panties. Shame warmed her cheeks, but desire curled tighter in her belly.

She leaned forward again. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“But I want to.”

Dominic stared at her like she had just changed everything.

“Elena…” he began, warning in his tone.

But she was already unbuttoning the first button of her blouse, slowly, trembling fingers fighting her thoughts.

“I don’t want to think anymore,” she said. “Just this once. Let me feel something that doesn’t hurt.”

That broke him.

His hands cupped her face, his mouth found hers again but this time, it was deeper. More hungry. His tongue tasted hers, slow but firm, and she moaned into the kiss like she had lost all sense of gravity.

He lifted her, carrying her from the couch to the bed without breaking contact.

Her heart thudded in her chest.

She felt exposed—her secrets, her fears, her inexperience—but with Dominic hovering above her, something strange settled.

Safety.

She clutched his shirt tighter. “I’m scared,” she confessed.

He nodded, lips ghosting across her jawline.

“Then I’ll be gentle. I’ll take my time. Just tell me to stop and I will.”

She didn’t want him to stop.

His hands moved to her blouse, slipping it off slowly, deliberately. His eyes never left hers. When he saw the pale pink lace of her bra, and the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath it, he didn’t tear at it. He brushed a finger along the edge of the strap, waiting.

“Beautiful,” he said.

No one had ever called her that—not like this.

His kisses moved downward, over her collarbone, down her stomach, reverent as if each kiss was a vow. When he peeled off her jeans and saw the darkened patch on her panties, his eyes flickered—desire, restraint, reverence.

She turned her face away, mortified.

But he held her chin and turned her back.

“No shame,” he whispered. “Not here. Not with me.”

His fingers grazed the fabric between her thighs. She gasped.

“God, Elena,” he murmured. “You’re soaked.”

A helpless moan escaped her lips.

She’d never felt this out of control. Never knew her body could respond like this. And yet—this felt right.

His fingers slipped beneath the lace, touching her folds with the gentleness of someone handling something sacred. And as he slowly peeled away the last of the fabric between them, his breath caught. She was bare—clean, smooth, everything about her soft and glistening. Prepared, though not planned. Shaved completely.

The sight made his control crack.

“Elena,” he whispered again, voice rough. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

Her body trembled, but not from fear. She wanted him to see her. To touch her. To know her. Her thighs shifted open instinctively as if her body had decided on its own.

“I wanted to feel ready,” she murmured, barely audible. “In case it ever happened.”

He let out a shaky breath, brushing his fingers across the delicate skin between her thighs, reverent and slow, like she was something sacred. Her hips arched toward his touch, her breathing turning shallow.

“Elena,” he groaned again, fighting for control. “If you keep looking at me like that…”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the emotion swelling in her chest. “Please.

Her back arched. She whimpered his name.

He kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, his tongue tangling with hers as his fingers explored her most sensitive places—slowly, carefully, building her up until she was trembling beneath him, clutching the sheets, breath ragged.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked one last time, hovering at her entrance.

“No,” she breathed. “I want you to be the first.”

And he was.

Careful.

Measured.

Present.

She gasped as he filled her—pain and pleasure mixing in a storm she wasn’t prepared for. But he didn’t rush. He kissed the tears at the corner of her eyes. Whispered to her. Held her hand.

Until the pain gave way to something else.

Something wild.

She moved with him—body learning, trusting, surrendering.

And when she finally cried out his name, her whole body shuddering beneath his, Dominic kissed her like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

The world outside didn’t exist.

It was just them now—skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. His fingers threaded through hers as they lay tangled in the soft sheets, her body still aching, still pulsing, still trying to understand what had just happened.

He was still inside her, unmoving, just holding her. Like he knew she needed this more than the act itself.

“Elena,” he whispered against her shoulder, voice thick. “Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice yet.

He gently brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. “I didn’t hurt you too much?”

A small, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “No. You were… good. Really good.”

His eyes softened, a smile playing on his lips. “You sure?”

“I think my legs forgot how to work,” she murmured, burying her face against his chest.

His laugh was low, deep. “That’s not a bad review.”

But then he grew quiet again, his palm stroking her bare back in long, lazy motions. His touch wasn’t s****l anymore. It was… soothing. Protective. Like he was anchoring her to the moment so she wouldn’t drift off into old fears or new regrets.

“I didn’t plan for this,” she whispered.

He exhaled. “Me neither.”

“I thought it’d be awkward or… quick. I thought I’d cry.”

“You almost did,” he said gently, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. “But you didn’t.”

She looked up at him. “Why did you stop when I said I’d never done it?”

He blinked. “Because it mattered. Because I saw it in your eyes—you were scared. I wasn’t going to ruin that for you.”

Elena bit her lip. Her heart was racing again—but not from nerves this time.

“I’ve never had anyone… care like that.”

His thumb moved across her shoulder. “Well, get used to it. I care, Elena. Maybe more than I should.”

That made something flutter deep inside her—dangerous and warm.

She pressed her lips to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

“I feel different,” she admitted.

“Different how?”

She pulled the covers up to her chin, shy again. “Like… I’ve stepped into a world I didn’t know existed. And I don’t want to leave it yet.”

“You don’t have to.” He tilted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And maybe that was what scared her most.

Because she believed him.

He kissed her again—slower this time, no urgency, just pure connection. Their bodies pressed closer, his hand sliding up her side, learning her curves like he was memorizing her.

Elena gasped softly as he traced circles along her inner thigh. “Again?” she whispered.

His smile was all heat. “If you’re up for it.”

She nodded.

She was already aching for him again, her body stunned by its own cravings. His mouth found her neck as he rolled over her once more, slower this time, deeper, her moans quiet and needy.

He didn’t rush. He moved like they had all the time in the world, like this night wasn’t fleeting, like she mattered.

And when she came again this time with a cry that sounded like surrender he held her tighter, kissed her longer, and whispered her name like it was the only word that ever mattered.

They didn’t speak much after.

Just soft breathing.

Occasional touches.

And silence that wasn’t empty but full of everything unspoken.