Iwoke in Dante’s bed, the city lights casting a dim glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My body ached, a symphony of bruises and scrapes singing their song of survival. I was alive—and free. The penthouse was silent, but it wasn't the silence of emptiness; it was the silence of a predator's den, waiting for its master to return.
The door clicked open. Dante stood there, his silhouette framed by the soft light from the hallway. His eyes found mine, and the world narrowed to that point of contact. No words were needed. His gaze was a storm surge, crashing into me with a force that stole my breath. Raw emotion carved lines into his face, a map of longing and fear and the echo of near loss.
I pushed myself up, the silk sheets sliding off my skin like a whispered secret. My feet touched the cool floor, grounding me as I stood to face him. The air between us crackled, a live wire of tension thatsparked with every heartbeat. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were wild.
"Julietta," he rasped, my name a benediction on his lips. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the curve of my neck, as if reassuring himself I was real. I leaned into his touch, my own hands finding his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
His other hand cupped my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. His eyes searched mine, a silent conversation passing between us. The almost-loss. The terror. The relief. The longing. It was all there, written in the lines of his face, the depths of his eyes.
And then, we collided. His mouth crashed onto mine, not with the bruising force of possession, but with the desperate need of a man starved for connection. I met him with equal fervor, my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. His arms wrapped around me, one hand tangling in my hair, the other splayed across my back, pressing me against him as if he could absorb me into his very being.
We stumbled back to the bed, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. His hands roamed my body, not to claim or control, but to worship, to cherish. I arched into his touch, my own hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, the lean muscles of his back, the rough stubble of his jaw.
His mouth left mine to trail kisses down my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped as his teeth grazed my collarbone, his hands sliding down to grip my hips. He paused, his forehead resting against my sternum, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Jules," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I thought I lost you."
My heart clenched, his words striking a chord deep within me. I cupped his face, lifting his gaze to meet mine. "You didn't," I said softly. "I'm here. I'm right here."
His eyes searched mine, a world of vulnerability laid bare in their ice-blue depths. Then, he surged up, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me onto the bed, his body covering mine. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him closer, needing to feel him, all of him.
His hands slid up my sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I arched into his touch, a gasp escaping my lips as his fingers found my nipples, rolling them gently. His mouth trailed down my neck, his tongue tracing the curve of my breast before taking one peak into his mouth.
I cried out, my back bowing off the bed as sensation shot through me. His hand slid down my stomach, his fingers slipping between my legs, finding me hot and wet and ready. He groaned against my skin, his fingers circling my clit, his teeth grazing my nipple.
"Dante," I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. "Please."
He looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. "Please what, Jules?" he murmured, his fingers sliding through my folds, his thumb circlingmy clit. "Tell me what you want."
"You," I breathed. "I want you. All of you."
His eyes held mine as he slid down my body, his shoulders settling between my thighs. His breath was hot against my skin, his fingers spreading me open. Then, his mouth was on me, his tongue sliding through my folds, his lips closing around my clit.
I cried out, my hips bucking against his mouth. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, his tongue delving deeper. He licked and sucked and nipped, his fingers sliding inside me, curling to hit that spot that made me see stars.
My orgasm hit me like a freight train, my body convulsing, my hands fisting in his hair. He rode it out with me, his tongue gentle now, his hands soothing as I came down from the high.
The air between us was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the musk of our arousal clinging to the sheets like a second skin.
Dante’s weight pressed me into the mattress, his body a furnace against mine, every inch of him radiating heat. His mouth crashed into mine, and I could taste myself on his lips—salty, intoxicating, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d just worshipped me. His tongue slid against mine, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the flavor of us mixed together.
My fingers curled into the damp strands of his hair, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groaned into the kiss, the vibration humming through my chest.
His hands slid down to my hips, his grip firm, possessive, as he positioned himself at my entrance. The head of his cock teased me, hot and heavy, and I arched into him, my body already aching for more.
He froze, his blue eyes locking onto mine, dark with hunger but shadowed with something deeper—something that looked almost like fear. The room seemed to still around us, the only sound the ragged rasp of our breaths and the distant, muffled thrum of the city below, a world away from this moment.
"Are you sure,piccola volpe?" His voice was rough, gravelly, like he’d been screaming—or praying. His thumbs traced slow circles on my hip bones, grounding me even as his question sent a shiver down my spine. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you wantme."
I reached up, my palms cradling his face, my thumbs brushing over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His stubble prickled against my skin, a delicious contrast to the velvet softness of his lips. "I’m sure,"I whispered, my voice steady despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs.
The scent of his cologne—dark, spiced, something like sandalwood and gunpowder—wrapped around me, intoxicating. "I want you, Dante.Allof you. Every broken piece. Every secret. Every sin."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, his control fraying at the edges. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid into me, inch by excruciating inch. My breath hitched as he filled me completely, stretching me, claiming me in a way that went beyond the physical.
The bed creaked beneath us, the sound lost beneath the wet slickness of our bodies moving together, the hitch in his breath as he bottomed out. My legs wrapped around his waist, my heels digging into the taut muscles of his ass, urging him deeper.
This wasn’t like before.
