We haven’t been together in days, only trading text messages that leave my body on fire. He’s always so explicit in describing how much he desires me, asking me totouch myself and requesting I send him provocative pictures. Never have I been one to send nudes or even wanted to send them. Heck, no one’s even asked me to before, but when Dante commands me to do something, for some reason, I don’t hesitate.
Whether it be a snapshot of me in just my black lace thong, which I purchased just for him. Or a video of me rubbing my nipples and my clit until my orgasm barrels through me, and I scream his name; I do as he asks.
I don’t even recognize the person I’ve become lately. Just a few weeks ago, my identity was that of a boring pharmacist; now I’m some sex-crazed maniac.
The car turns into a private garage beneath a soaring high-rise, and I immediately notice several men in black tactical gear with large guns. As I follow the driver to a private elevator, my palms are slick with nervous perspiration. The driver, a nice, older man in a dark suit, reaches in and pushes a single button labeled “penthouse”.
“Have a good evening, miss,” he bows his head with a smile and steps back before I can thank him.
As the large metal doors close soundlessly, I ask myself for what must be the hundredth time if I’m doing the right thing. Taking a secret meeting with a much older, dangerous, well-known mobster to satisfy my sexual urges screams poor decisions.
When the elevator doors finally glide open, I feel as if I’ve been holding my breath forever.
Before me lies his penthouse, with floor-to-ceiling glass framing the glittering Chicago skyline, polished stone underfoot, a seating area of black leather sofas, and crystal chandeliers dripping with soft light. Every detail of his home screams power, wealth, and elegance.
Clutching the cardigan I’ve worn over my simple knee-length yellow dress closer, suddenly everything about me feels too plain, too frumpy. My worn leather sandals click awkwardly against the marble.
What am I doing here? I’m a pharmacist’s granddaughter, for heaven’s sake. He’s a powerful criminal kingpin ruling from his skyscraper kingdom. We’re from two very different worlds, and I don’t think I belong in his.
Dante emerges from the shadows off the large entry. He’s not wearing his typical all black tonight, but acream-colored jacket with an open-collar white shirt, and casual dark slacks.
If I thought the all-black look was attractive on him, the white shirt against his olive skin tone and thick, dark hair, makes him look even more stunningly virile than ever before. His massive shoulders are straining the fabric of his coat, and the spicy scent of his cologne engulfs me, making my knees weak as he approaches. His dark eyes zero in on me immediately, roving me from head to toe, consuming me with their intensity.
“Evangeline. You came.” His voice is the gruff gravel I’ve come to expect, but there is a note of relief.
“Yes,” I whisper, breathless, “but this is so, so dangerous, Dante.”
He steps closer. “I know,” his voice is hoarse, but tender. Then, a slow, wicked smile curves his lips. “I also know that nothing worth having is safe, cara mia.”
I want to tell him I’m desperately afraid, and I only came because I can’t bear another night without him. But I know that will make me sound like a needy little girl, which is exactly what I am, I guess.
Because I now suspect my uncle’s secrets run much deeper than I ever thought possible, I want to tell him how I feel trapped, frightened of what comes next, but I don’t.
When he lovingly cradles my jaw and his thumb grazes my lips, I can’t speak but only tremble from his touch.
“Dante, I can’t stop thinking about you … thinking about us and how scary this is.” My confession is barely audible, but my fear is evident.
“Then don’t think tonight, bella. Let me do all the thinking for you.” He crushes me to him, and I can feel his long, hard length press into my upper body as he devours my mouth possessively.
“Let go for me tonight,” he murmurs against my lips, threading his hands through my hair, angling my head, and taking my lips once more.
His kiss is fierce, remorseless. Days of longing and denial shatter any reservations I have as I clutch at his shirt, needing him closer. He reaches down and grabs my upper thighs in his powerful grip, and my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. My purse is forgotten, tumbling to the floor.
Dante doesn’t break our kiss as he strides across the room, past the leather sofas, past the soft rugs, and towering fireplace, to the massive dining table in front of the broad expanse of windows overlooking the city. His city.
The long table is set with silver and crystal that rattle as he sets me down on the cool wood. A plate shatters somewhere in the distance, and I think I hear glass breaking, but I’m too far gone in my fog of desire and need for this man to comprehend my environment.
“I wanted to do slow and romantic, but fuck me if I can help myself. Dinner can wait.” His gravel voice is low and seductive as he pulls from our kiss and pushes my knees apart, stepping between them. My dress is riding up over my thighs, and I can feel his long, thick erection pressing into my core.
It’s obvious there’s no courtship tonight, no slow-burning romance, only raw need from both of us. Just like the first time.
His hands explore me with rough certainty as if he’ll die without claiming me here and now. And I want it. I’m here for it.
The taste of his mouth is an intoxicating drug I can’t seem to get enough of as he devours me with each kiss, his tongue dueling with mine. Dante’s hands are rough and bruising as he runs them up my legs, but now those hands feel like home. They’re a familiar touch in this world that has become so foreign to me.
He places one large hand flat on my chest, pressing me down on the table, like I’m his to feast on in place of his dinner. And I am Jesus Christ, I am. Every inch of me is his, including the swollen, trembling heat between my legs.
His gaze is riveted on mine, and I see the smoldering flame of want reflected in them. His eyes drop from mine and slowly move over my body in approval as he pushes the light cardigan off my shoulders, then grasping the hem of my dress to expose my simple cotton panties and bra.
