Almost.
My body had other opinions as I let my mind wander.
I traced the muscle of Dante’s shoulder, my fingertips brushing against the warm, smooth skin. He stirred beneath me, his icy blue eyes flickering open like a predator awakening from a restless sleep. My breath caught in my throat as his gaze locked onto mine, intense and hungry, as if he could see straight through to the desires I kept hidden beneath my modest exterior. I held my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs, acutely aware of the power he held over me—and the power I was about to wield over him.
“Julietta,” he growled, his voice rough with sleep and desire. It was a warning, a promise, and a challenge all at once. “You’re playing with fire.”
I smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of my lips that I knew would infuriate and entice him in equal measure. “I like the heat,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my veins. I was no longer the sheltered mafia princess, the obedient daughter who did as she was told. I was a woman who had learned to play the game, and Dante was my most dangerous opponent yet.
In one swift motion, he rolled onto his back, pullingme on top of him. His hands gripped my waist, firm and unyielding, branding me as his even as I straddled him. I felt his hardness against my core, a silent promise of what was to come. My auburn hair cascaded around us like a curtain of fire, shielding us from the world outside, where power and betrayal lurked in every shadow.
“Take what you need,” he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. His words were a command, but they were also an invitation—a test. Could I take what I wanted, or would I falter under the weight of his dominance?
I leaned down, my lips brushing his, teasing. “I intend to,” I murmured, my voice husky with anticipation. My hands roamed over his bare chest, tracing the sculpted muscles taut and defined beneath his skin. I kissed his collarbone, my tongue following the contours of his body, savoring the taste of salt and sweat that clung to him.
He hissed as I sucked a nipple into my mouth, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as if he feared I might pull away. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. My hands wandered lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. He groaned, his body tensing beneath my touch.
“Impatient, aren’t we?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.
“You know me,” I replied, my voice dripping with false innocence. I released him from his confines, his cock springing free, thick and eager. I stroked him lightly, my touch torturous, watching as his eyes darkened with pleasure and need. “Say it,” I demanded, my voice firm.
“Yours,” he gritted out, his jaw clenched. “Take me. All of me.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of triumph and fear. Dante was a man who guarded his vulnerabilities like a fortress, and yet here he was, offering himself to me—body, mind, and soul. I positioned myself above him, his eyes burning into mine as I lowered onto his shaft, inch by agonizing inch. My wallsembraced him, tight and wet, and he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets as if to anchor himself.
“Harder,” I whispered, my voice demanding. I wasn’t just asking for more; I was challenging him to surrender to me, to let go of the control he clung to so fiercely.
He obliged, his hands grasping my thighs, guiding me as our bodies slapped together in a primal rhythm. I felt his fingers dig into my skin, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment long after it was over. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice hoarse with need.
I leaned forward, my breasts pressing against his chest, my mouth seeking his. Our kisses were fierce, desperate, our tongues dueling as if we could consume each other whole. I rode him with abandon, my nails scratching his back, my moans filling the room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a heady mix that only fueled my desire.
“Close,” he warned, his voice strained.
I quickened my pace, my body on fire, my climax building like a storm on the horizon. “Together,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.
He surged up, his lips capturing mine in a bruising kiss as he thrust deep, his seed spilling into me. My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, tearing a cry from my throat that mingled with his. We convulsed together, our bodies tangled, our breaths ragged. For a moment, there was nothing but us—no mafia wars, no betrayals, no fears. Just two people consumed by desire.
The fantasy was so vivid that my breath hitched.
Dante stirred.
His hand found my waist in the darkness—not aggressive, just anchoring. Even in sleep, he reached for me. Even unconscious, I was the thing hisbody sought.
I held still, not wanting to wake him, wanting to stay in this liminal space where I was both the woman he'd taken and the woman he was learning he couldn't control.
His breathing deepened again. His grip loosened but didn't release.
I closed my eyes and let the fantasy continue—that moment when he'd finally see me not as someone to protect or possess, but as his equal. The moment when being his wife wouldn't feel like risk, but like home.
A queen who chose her king.
The thought sent another wave of heat through me, so intense that I had to press my thighs together to contain it.
Tomorrow I would brief the capos on security protocol adjustments. Tomorrow I would wear the diamond ring that now sat on my left hand like a brand. Tomorrow I would continue building my influence in an organization that had no use for women except as leverage.
But tonight, I let myself imagine being truly his. As the thing he couldn't live without.
As the thing he'd burn cities for.
