"Here," he said, extending one glass toward me. I reached for it, and our fingers brushed in the hand off. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, and my breath caught audibly. Dario froze, his fingers still touching mine around the glass, his eyes locked on my face. Something shifted in his expression, a crack in his careful control. "Belle," he said, my name rough in his throat.
The glass slipped from between us, tumbling to the floor. In the same instant, Dario's hand moved from the falling tumbler to my wrist, pulling me toward him with surprising gentleness. The crystal shattered on the marble, whiskey splashing across the floor, but neither of us looked down.
His lips found mine with devastating results. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. Not like the one we’d shared in the tasting room. Had that been two weeks before? This was possession, hunger, the release of something that had been building between us since the moment we'd met. I clutched at his shoulder with my free hand, the solid warmth of him anchoring me as the world tilted beneath my feet.
I should have pulled away. Should have remembered all the warnings from Valentina, and Ricky, and my own common sense. But his mouth moved against mine with such dominance, promise of more pleasure than I’d even thought possible, resistance felt impossible.
Dario backed me against the wall, his body pressing against mine, solid and warm. He framed my face with his hands, surprisingly gentle despite the urgency of his kiss. When he finally broke away, we were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine.
"I've been thinking about kissing you again since the fucking tasting room." His voice was rough and I was certain he hadn’t wanted to voice his confession. "I’m supposed to be staying away from you."
"Seems like you’re falling off the wagon epically right now." I managed to breathe, earning a surprised chuckle from him.
"No." He kissed me again, slower this time, deliberate in a way that made my knees weak. "Definitely falling off the fucking wagon." He found the hem of my top and pulled it from the waist of my skirt, fingers skimming beneath to touch bare skin. I gasped against his mouth, and he pulled back just enough to study my face. "Tell me to stop, and I will," he said, his voice rough with restraint.
The sane part of me, the part that knew this was a complication I couldn't afford and had no hope of coming out of the same person I went in, urged me to take the escape he offered. Instead, I reached for the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers. "I don't want to stop."
Something flared in his eyes. Hunger followed closely by something that looked suspiciously like relief? That couldn’t be right. Why would he be relieved? Then he was kissing me again as he guided my hands, helping me with the buttons. Each inch of exposed skin revealed a canvas of muscle and subtle scars that spoke of a life I knew nothing about. I traced a particularly jagged mark that cut across his collarbone, and he shivered under my touch.
"Bedroom," he murmured against my throat. I gasped as he bent to lift me, his hands going under my ass to lift me. Iwrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to his shoulders as he carried me through the penthouse with surprising ease. All the way, he kissed and nipped my neck, chin, and finally settled on my ear.
His bedroom continued the theme of understated luxury, but it all barely registered beyond the massive bed with charcoal sheets. There were windows revealing the glittering cityscape, and ambient lighting that cast everything in a warm glow. He laid me on the bed with unexpected tenderness, standing back to look at me sprawled across his sheets.
"You're beautiful," he said, the simple declaration carrying weight because of the man who spoke it. Dario Luca, who could have anyone, was looking at me like I was precious.
He stripped off his shirt fully, revealing a torso marked by both careful muscle and the evidence of violence. Scars I couldn't begin to understand the origins of criss-crossed his torso and upper arms. I reached for him, and he came to me, his weight settling over me with delicious pressure. "I want to see you," he whispered against my ear, his hands finding the hem of my shirt again.
I nodded, suddenly shy despite my eagerness. He pulled the shirt over my head with excruciating slowness, his gaze darkening as he took in my simple cotton bra. No fancy lingerie for me. I hadn't expected anyone to see this tonight. Or ever, really. At least not until I was secure enough in my life to let someone else in. I could barely make rent most months, so dating wasn’t even a conversation.
"Fucking perfect," he said, as if reading my insecurity. He traced the curve of my waist, my chest, the undersides of my breasts with reverent attention that made me arch into his touch, as I let out an embarrassing whimper.
The rest of our clothes fell away with increasing urgency. I shrugged out of my jeans as Dario peeled them down my legs.Once free, I got up on my knees, reaching for the waistband of his expensive trousers and unbuttoning them with fumbling fingers. I wanted to grab the waist to his pants and underwear and shove them off his hips but I wasn’t that bold.
Each newly exposed inch of skin became territory to explore, to taste. His mouth trailed fire everywhere he touched me. He moved down the valley between my breasts and across my stomach as I writhed beneath him.
Once he’d climbed up on the bed with me, Dario reached up my body and undid the front clasp of my bra before hooking his thumbs in the waist of my bikini panties, sliding them down my legs in one smooth motion.
Dario sat back on his heels, his gaze locked between my thighs as he trailed his hands from my knees to my ankles, taking his time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to devour me or worship me. My skin prickled everywhere he touched. I shivered, nerves and want tangling together so tight I could barely breathe.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, voice rough enough to scrape skin. “Spread your legs for me, Belle. Let me see that beautiful pussy.”
I whimpered, his dirty words shooting through me like a punch to the gut. My body obeyed before my brain could catch up, my thighs parting under his command. I lay spread out, wide open to the chill of the air and the scorching heat of his eyes. He reached out, running a thumb up the inside of my thigh. I whimpered, hating how desperate I already sounded, but the anticipation was killing me. I wanted his mouth. I wanted his hands. I wanted all of him. Every. Single. Inch.
“You want me here, don’t you?” He pressed his thumb right where my clit throbbed and ached, right against my clit. “Want me to eat your pussy until you scream?”
“God, yes,” I managed, hips twitching like a needy idiot. Absolutely shameless. But I didn’t care. Couldn’t care. “So much!”
He lowered his head, his hair brushing against my thigh as he inhaled. He closed his eyes and looked nearly intoxicated as some kind of euphoria enveloped him.
He was going to eat me alive. The thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks and made my nipples tighten almost painfully. Dario lowered his head, mouth barely an inch from my pussy, and the bastard just breathed me in. Eyes closed, jaw clenched. Like just the scent of me was a religious experience. “Fuck, Belle. You smell so fucking good. Sweeter than any Goddamn thing I’ve ever known.” His voice was gravel. He looked up, caught me watching, and just… grinned. Wolfish. Starving.
Then he dove in, his tongue hot and wet as he flattened it against my clit and dragged it up, slow as sin. I nearly levitated off the bed. I fisted my hands in that perfect hair, but he didn’t let up. He used his big hands to lock my hips down tight, so all I could do was thrash and moan while he licked and sucked like a man possessed.
“Oh my God. Dario. Oh my God!” A scream ripped through me as I came almost way sooner than I was comfortable with. Even though I was nearly lost in a pleasure I had no hope of ever controlling, I was fully aware of how this wasn’t a “relationship.” We were playing a game of actions and consequences and I was very much afraid I wasn’t prepared for the consequences of participating.
He didn’t slow down. Didn’t even pause. Every flick of his tongue was brutal. Merciless. He rolled my clit under his mouth, sucking just hard enough to make my toes curl, then he licked me again, even slower. This time, he paused over my clit as if expecting me to come again. I didn’t, but only by shear force ofwill. I already knew I was the amateur in this encounter and I absolutely would not show any more weakness.
“Sweet,” he growled against me, his voice rough and full of need. “You taste so fucking sweet, Belle. I could eat you for days.”
