When I pull back, I’m breathless—my chest rising and falling in erratic waves, my cheeks streaked with tears. Heat floods myskin as he leans in, his hands gently cupping my face, thumbs brushing away the damp trails.
My fingers wrap around his wrists, holding him close, my thumb drawing slow circles into his skin as my gaze burns into him. He presses his forehead against mine, and the world falls utterly silent. I hear nothing but the frantic beats of our hearts, synced in their desperation, and my heavy breaths blending with his.
After so long apart, looking at him feels like drinking after a desert. The wounds inside me loosen, soften, begin to knit shut as if his touch is stitching them together, pulling warmth back into the cold places of my body.
“I am nothing without you,” he whispers, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing patterns against my cheeks. “And I love?—”
My lips crash into his before he can finish. I don’t need him to speak it—because I already feel it, deep in my chest, in my bones.
Electricity shivers across our mouths as the kiss ignites between us, greedy and hungry. My teeth catch his bottom lip, and the groan it drags out of him strikes me like a flame to gasoline. It pushes me to bite harder as I climb into his lap, my chest pressing tight against his, the space between us disappearing entirely.
His hands coil around my waist, tightening with a possessive force that leaves me breathless, while his lips crush mine in a scorching, endless kiss. Each press, each stroke of fire between us sets off explosions along my nerve endings, as if my soul threatens to rip free from my body under the intensity of our connection.
I inhale sharply, drinking in his scent, and my tongue instinctively parts his lips, diving in, circling, licking, claiming. I lose myself entirely, drowning in him as I explore his mouth.
His fingers knot themselves into the depths of my hair, anchoring me, while the other hand slides lower. My body reacts before I can even think, jolting when a sharp slap lands across my ass, fiery and demanding. I flinch, grinding into him automatically, feeding the fire between us. His mouth becomes a drug, potent and intoxicating beyond anything I’ve ever known, and unlike anything else, there is no escape.
Clutching the collar of his hoodie, I press harder, my body responding as I feel the hard bulge pressing insistently against the fabric of his sweatpants. My reaction only fuels him further. He devours me—licking, sucking, biting my lips until they ache, bruised and swollen, yet he does not relent. My body weakens, my mind clouds, and I am helpless, wanting nothing but for him to take me entirely.
A guttural growl vibrates from him as his hand lands again on my ass, sending sparks of heat through the thin fabric of my pants.
“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, each word a low flame that ignites me further. I respond instinctively, quickening my grind, my moans louder and rawer, erupting from deep in my chest.
Ripping my lips from his, I throw my head back, exposing my neck. His teeth find it instantly, sinking deep, spreading a scorching sensation. Pain twists through me in delicious, agonizing waves as I weave my fingers through his messy hair, fisting it, tugging him closer.
His tongue follows, soothing the bite with wet heat, and I press my body against him, demanding more. Hot breath sweeps across my skin as he moves, teeth and tongue painting a path across the other side of my neck, tasting, claiming, then tasting again. I feel the rupture, the mingling of blood and fire, and I grind harder, tugging him back by his hair.
Our eyes lock, and I finally see it—the familiar hunger, the raw desire deep in his irises. My gaze roams across his face, drinking in the vein pulsing at his temple and the faint flush spreading across his cheeks. The sight is so beautiful that I feel crashing waves of liquid heat pooling low in my stomach, tugging, pulling, demanding.
It’s everything I need to shatter, losing all remaining control. Hips rolling, moans ripping from my throat, my eyes roll back, my body alight with every nerve screaming as I chase the pleasure I’ve been denied for so long. The orgasm slams into me hard and fast, cascading through my veins, leaving me trembling in euphoric surrender.
I gasp, my mouth falling open to swallow, desperate for moisture. Dante’s hands trace over my ass, firm yet gentle, and his hungry eyes bore into mine, as tingles continue to burn deep and wild between my legs.
I’m his, utterly, and he’s completely mine.
“You are magnificent,” he murmurs, and the warmth in my cheeks blooms, spreading like wildfire across my face. His hands don’t stop their movement, gliding over my skin with a gentle, soothing rhythm, igniting a desire that coils tighter inside me with every stroke.
The pleasure twists into something far stronger, and my thighs snap tight as I draw in what’s left.
I take a slow, steadying breath, letting the heat settle for a moment before my fingers inch toward the edge of his hoodie. Curling the fabric between them, I tug lightly, and he leans in, helping me peel it from his body. My chest rises sharply as the sight of him makes my pulse spike, and I have to stifle a feral moan that threatens to break free.
My hands wander with deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of his chest. Fingers skim over the sharp planes of his abs, then climb over the firm lines of his arms, lingering tofollow the network of veins threading beneath his skin. I take my time, savoring each ridge and hollow, each subtle dip of muscle, biting my lower lip gently at the swell of my own excitement.
My gaze drops to the scars that mark him most profoundly—the one near his heart, and the thicker, slightly fresher one across his gut. A pang of guilt surfaces as I stare at them, imagining how many times he’s looked at those marks, thought about me, and let his mind replay moments of pain and longing.
“Did it hurt a lot,” I whisper, circling the scar carefully, “seeing the reminder of me carved across your skin?”
His hand finds my hair again, tangling in the strands as he tugs lightly, a controlled but firm reminder of dominance. “It did,” he admits, voice low and raw. “You have no idea what you were doing to me, Estella.”
A cruel smirk curls my lips. “I have,” I answer, letting the words drip with intent.
His brows lift, surprise flickering for the briefest moment, before he pushes me back onto the bed. A sharp gasp escapes me as his hands tear through my clothes—the ripping of fabric loud in the otherwise quiet room. A cold gust brushes my exposed skin, but the chill barely registers before his hot breath follows, fanning across the sensitive planes of my body.
I shut my eyes and thread my fingers through his hair, guiding him as he traces me with searing kisses. He moves from my collarbone to my chest, to my nipples, traveling lower still, leaving nothing but fire behind.
“God, I missed this perfect body,” he growls, words muffled against my skin.
His hands settle on my hips, squeezing softly but deliberately, guiding me as his mouth moves south. I shiver when his hands slide along my inner thighs, prying them open, exposing me fully. One finger drags softly across my slick, swollen folds, and a fresh, primal ache blooms in my core.
