Bythetimewereach my penthouse, I’m half-mad with worry and desire.
Carrying her inside, I ignore the building’s security and their curious stares, eyeing the dried blood on our clothes. My other soldiers are waiting in the lobby for more orders, but I’m silent. Let Luca handle things tonight, because she’s the only thing that matters now.
The elevator ride is so silent, I almost think she’s fallen asleep. But as the doors slide open, she stirs.
Making my way to the bathroom in my room, I don’t pause. I’m still holding her in one arm as I use the other to reach inside the shower, turning all the shower heads on full blast. Then, I carefully put her on the counter and begin removing her clothes, starting with her shoes, then her leggings. As I go to slide her dirty sweatshirt over her head, she seems to be more aware of her surroundings.
“What are you doing, Dante?” she asks, dazedly.
“What does it look like, dolcezza? We need to clean up. I’m covered in blood, and you need to warm up,” I explain patiently as I continue to undress her, removing her bra and underwear. “I’m worried you’re in shock.”
Picking her up again, I carry her into the large, cavernous shower while still in my black cargo pants and shirt, which are covered in dried blood. Carefully, I put her on her feet, making sure she’s stable enough to stand.
“Dante! You’re getting soaked!” She balks, pushing at my shoulder.
“Isn’t that the purpose, bella?” I wink at her, undressing and throwing my soaking clothes outside the shower,not worried about the mess. She’s more important right now than wet clothes and water on my tiled floors.
Turning her to face the multiple shower heads and adjusting them so they aren’t spraying in her face, I pump some soap into my hands and methodically begin to wash her body and her hair. My shower is stocked with her line of bath products, so soon the relaxing scents of eucalyptus and peppermint envelop us as the room fills with steam.
I kneel, tenderly rubbing her feet, working my way up, massaging first her legs and then her tense shoulder muscles, taking special care as I wash her delicate wrists.
As I rub the lather into her breasts, her tiny nipples pebble and I ache to suck them into my mouth, but getting her warm and clean is far more important than my need to fuck her. My cock, however, doesn’t get the message and is throbbing, long and hard as it bounces against my stomach.
The tiny moans she makes as I turn her, massaging the tense muscles of her back, don’t help my suffering. They are almost my undoing. After I’ve rinsed her hair, shespins, attempting to swap places with me. She doesn’t have much luck as I’m easily two to three times her size.
Chuckling at her attempt to manhandle me, I ask, “You taking charge now?”
She just pouts those beautiful lips and says, “Your turn.” This was meant to be about her, but, damned if I can refuse her anything. So, I surrender to her ministrations.
She cleans my shoulders, reaching high on her toes to rub the soap into my biceps. Lovingly, she cleans my hands. The blood is long gone, but she makes sure each calloused hand is clean and kisses each palm just as I had kissed her wrists when I freed her bonds earlier.
“Try all you want, amore mio, but these hands will never be clean,” I tell her, bending to kiss her head.
“I don’t care, Dante. I know these hands have killed, but I also know they’ve killed for me. They’ve both pleasured me and saved me. Never would I judge you.” She bows her head and leans into my chest, not making eye contact, almost as ashamed.
Grasping her chin, I force her to look up at me, making eye contact. “You think killing him changed anything, amore mio? Made me see you differently?” I hiss, pinning her with my stare. She parts her lips, but I cut her off.
“You’ve ruined me, Evangeline. I probably should have kept you innocent, locked away from my darkness. But,” I say, my voice breaking with want. “…now I can’t decide if I want to worship you or destroy your sweet pussy.”
She bites her plump bottom lip, making me want to choose the latter. But before I can move, she pulls away, dropping to her knees on the wet tile.
I attempt to stop her, but she shakes her head and runs her hands up my thighs, wrapping her tiny hands around my cock. She strokes it and brings the throbbing tip to her open mouth. I watch her in amazement and widen my stance, allowing her to lick my hard shaft, letting her explore the length. When her tongue caresses my balls, lightly sucking, I throw my head back, giving a guttural groan.
Losing what little control I’ve had, I thread my fingers into her scalp, holding her in place. This woman owns me. Not wanting to come too soon, I loosen my grip, and she licks my tip once again, but this time, attempting to draw my entire length into her mouth. She gags, her eyes watering, unable to accept all of it.
“Just relax, tesoro. That’s it. Just breathe through your nose,” I encourage her, lovingly stroking her bent head. “You can do it,” I say, pressing her head down so she can take me deeper.
She relaxes with a slight whimper and bobs her head up and down, using long, sucking motions as she does so.
Holy fuck.
I’m sure I’ve never felt such ecstasy. Without a doubt, this is something new to her, but she’s taking my cock like a goddamn pro. It’s so fucking good; I may die right here.
The headlines will read; he died during a blow job in his shower and not by a bullet on the streets as people always thought I would.
My restraint finally breaks, and unable to take anymore, I lift her by her arms off the floor. I drag her up my body and kiss her like a man drowning. Devouring her possessively, not wanting her to even breathe without me.
My need to be one with her is overwhelming.
