The hardness of his erection pokes through his jeans and tempts me. I haven’t sucked him off yet, and the thought of it makes my mouth water.
“I’m waiting, little flower,” he says in a voice dark and deep, looking down at me like he’s some dark king and I’m his loyal subject.
Letting out a breath, I place my hands on the floor and lean down until my face is hovering over his boot. My thighs quiver,and I can’t tell if it’s from the effort of keeping myself from falling over or knowing that I’m about to kiss someone’s shoe. My core warms as a wave of arousal washes over me.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Looking up at Dante once more, I don’t know why I expect him to put a stop to this. His bulge reminds me that he’s just as into this as I am.
“Do it, Essence,” he commands in a rough, almost strained voice.
Swallowing, I lean back down and kiss his boot.
“What do you say, baby girl?” he asks.
Fuck.
“Thank you, Daddy, for killing my boyfriend,” I say quietly, knowing exactly what to say to provoke him.
I look up at him with innocent eyes and kneel before him in subservience. For a second, he just towers over me, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite describe. Then, he grips the back of my neck and roughly yanks me up until I'm standing in front of him. His eyes are dark and filled with lust, and for a moment I fear I've made a terrible mistake.
This man is about to eat me alive.
One minute, I'm in front of him, the next, I'm being thrown onto the bed, squealing as my feet fly through the air. I land on the bed with anoomph!and frustratedly blow a curl out of my face.
“That was so unnecessary, Dante,” I scold, only minorly agitated about being thrown around. I know he means well, but after dealing with Evan’s shit, I don’t think I want to be manhandled in that way for a while.
So, you’re fine with him slicing you with his knife and choking you while he fucks you, but throwing you around is where you draw the line?my subconscious asks me rather aggressively.
Right, because that makes total sense.
Whatever. It’s a preference—it reminds me too much of the things Evan would do to me, and I don’t want to be reminded of that while I’m with Dante.
I sit up in the bed, ready to tell him, but he’s not there.
“Dante?”
No response. I call him again, but he still doesn’t answer.
Suddenly, I'm taken back to the night of Evan’s murder, when I awoke after being choked into unconsciousness. It was dark then, but there’s still a little daylight outside right now. Regardless, that doesn’t stop the tremors of fear from running through my body.
I slowly get off the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking out into the living room and kitchen.Lunchbox is no longer sprawled out on the floor, so I call him to come to me.
“Lunchbox? Come here,” I call out to him, making kissing noises to get his attention wherever he is, but he doesn’t come.
“Dante,” I say again, louder this time. Still nothing.
What the hell is going on? There’s no way Dante could have done something to him; he loves Lunchbox just as much as I do.
I step out into the living room and look around the dark space. The door leading to the garage is wide open. Dante always closes it before he leaves, which means he must still be here.
Huffing out a breath, I stomp to the garage, ready to chew his ass out for scaring me like this.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Dante, you’re scaring theshitout of me! And where the hell is?—”
When I get to the garage, I stop.
A dark, shadowy figure is sitting in a folding chair in the dark, one long leg stretched out. His hands rest in his lap, and when I squint, I notice the silver glint of a blade in one hand. With his other hand, he flicks a lighter, bringing to life a small flame that he raises to his face.
