Dario DeLuca: Savage Bloodline

26. Mia

TWENTY-SIX

Exhaustion weighsheavy on my limbs as Dario and I step into the condo, the door closing behind us with a soft click. The journey from Italy has drained us, but my mind remains alert, my thoughts swirling with the events of the past few days.

My gaze drifts to Dario as he finishes a phone call, no doubt coordinating details for the campaign with Evelyn. He grazes his temples, and even in his weariness, he exudes an aura of strength and control, his broad shoulders squared as he speaks in low, authoritative tones.

My chest tightens with an unfamiliar tenderness, emotions swirling like smoke. They show gratitude for the protection he offers me, a shield made not of steel but of his unwavering determination.

I find myself transfixed by the sight of him. The way his tailored shirt strains over his muscular arms hints at the raw power contained within. A flicker of desire ignites deep in my core.

Dario turns, catching my lingering stare. Our eyes lock, the air between us charged with an undeniable tension. In that moment, everything else fades away—the fatigue, the uncertainty, the chaos of the world outside these walls.

He rejected my advances back in Italy, no doubt protecting me emotionally as he has physically. Now, there is only him and me, with no interruptions or distractions from a wedding getting in the way. We’re alone, suspended in this shared space where he can’t run for the sake of my emotional state this time. I know that’s why he denied me. He was being selfless.

My chest tightens with an unfamiliar tenderness as Dario turns to face me. I take him in, and for the first time, I truly admire him. I knew he was attractive, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that. But tonight, he looks even better. Sexier, if that is even possible.

His shirt fits him like a second skin, and I trace the lines of his arms, the fabric straining as if it, too, yearns for release.

The intensity of his gaze holds me captive, a prisoner willingly shackled. It”s as though he sees through the facade, beyond the woman born to privilege and into the core of who I”ve become since our paths entwined.

”You said you”d fuck me when I asked,” I breathe out. ”Well, I”m asking, Dario.”

His body reacts before the words dissolve into silence, a visible tension coiling through him, an animal awakened. The predatory glint in his eyes tells me I”ve unleashed something primal, a hunger that mirrors my own. I’ve thrown down a gauntlet, and the look he gives me is one of dark promises and imminent fulfillment.

I inch toward him, and he stands there, waiting–wanting. My heart pounds, the sound of it loud in my ears over the steady hum of Chicago beyond the walls of our condo. Dario watches me, his gaze never wavering.

I lunge, pressing him against the wall. Our lips meet—no, they crash—with a feverish hunger that speaks of desperation. The taste of him—like bitter espresso and a hint of danger—invades my senses, damn near branding me.

My breath comes ragged as I break away, my fingers tangling with his. There”s no need for words. The language of our bodies is far more articulate. I lead him by the hand to the sanctity of the bedroom, where shadows dance across the floor, cast by the light filtering through the blinds.

I begin to shed my clothes, but he stops me, his hands covering mine.

”Let me,” Dario murmurs, his voice a low rumble that resonates in the hollow of my chest.

He undresses me slowly, reverently, as if unwrapping a precious gift. He starts with my shirt, and with each piece of clothing he removes, he kisses me the newly exposed flesh. Inch by inch, item by item, until I’m bare before him. When his mouth meets the arch of my foot, a shiver rolls through me, delicate yet fierce.

In this charged silence, I feel the weight of his gaze on me once more. It holds a ferocity, a possessiveness that should frighten me, but instead, it feels like coming home. I catch a glimpse of the outline of his arousal straining against the fabric of his pants, and my body responds with an eager ache.

But before I can reach for him, Dario is there, lifting me with an ease that speaks to his hidden strength. He carries me to the bed as though I’m something precious, something irreplaceable. Gently, he lays me down, and in this moment, the world narrows to just him and me.

Dario hovers over me, bringing his lips down on mine again with an urgency that steals my breath. This kiss is a promise, a claim, sealing our silent vows to each other. He trails those kisses lower, marking his territory with each touch, leaving a trail of heat down my neck.

Mia, I think, even as I lose myself in the sensations, you chose this man, this moment. And oh, how right you were.

He worships my body with a devotion that leaves no room for doubt. Even as desire coils tighter within me, I can”t help but marvel at the man who holds me in thrall—the chiseled lines of his form, the controlled power in his movements.

Dario DeLuca, the man who commands men, now devotes himself to my pleasure. His hands are calloused, yet they move over me with a gentleness that belies their appearance. His body is sculptured perfection, and I intend to praise every line, every curve, with my eyes and with my touch.

Dario moves down my body, stopping only centimeters from my throbbing core. His dark eyes smolder with hunger, and he parts my legs, exposing me fully to his gaze. Anticipation builds in me, and I squirm while tilting my hips towards his mouth.

He chuckles at that, wetting his lips while looking at me tauntingly. My whole body tingles as his breath fans over me. But he doesn’t kiss me there. Instead, he leans in and brushes his lips against my belly button before finally giving my sex the attention I crave.

Dario places open-mouth kisses all over my mound, and his lips touch every inch of skin but my lower ones. He’s teasing me, or more like savoring me.

A whimper slips from me as he finally rubs both thumbs over my folds. Over and over, he strokes my lips, pulling me apart just a little each time. At last, his thumb glides over my clit and down to my slit.

“Mmm,” I moan, my back bucking.

When Dario pulls his hand away, there’s no ignoring my arousal coating his finger.

“Mm Mm Mm,” Dario mutters. “Già così dannatamente bagnato, Bella.” So wet already, Bella.

Then he puts his thumb in his mouth to taste me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What is this man doing to me right now? And suddenly, I remember his words more clearly…what he had actually said was that I would beg him.

So he’s teasing me, making sure I do just that.

“I can’t believe I’ve made it this long without tasting you.”

He thumbs my clit again, circling my bud torturously slow.

“If I knew you tasted this sweet, I would have a long time ago.”

“Dario,” I whisper. “Please.”

“You know, watching you angrily take my dick is amazing, but I think I quite like you begging for it more,” he continues while still rubbing tight circles.

This time he traces my slit and pushes the tip of his thumb into my entrance. Slowly he fucks me with his thumb, his eyes glued to my expression the entire time.

“You have such a pretty pussy, Bella.”

In and out goes.

“So fucking sweet.”

Quickly, he leans forward, taking my clit into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue before pulling back.

“Ahh, sh–”

“And so fucking tight.” He replaces his thumb with his middle finger, then another. He dives deeper into me, strong fingers curling and stroking as his tongue dances across sensitive nerve endings.

I grasp his hair in desperation, holding on as reality dissolves and only our entangled bodies remain—driving one another toward ecstasy. I gasp at the sensation, fingers curling into the sheets as I feel him licking a path downward.

His tongue flicks against my opening, and I cry out softly, arching off the bed. The taste of his kiss lingers on my lips as I bite them while he continues to worship me there, each lick pulling another moan from my throat. His scruff tickles my smooth skin, sending shivers to my core.

As he kisses his way back up, he trails his hands along the inside of my thighs, igniting sparks where they graze. He looks up at me then, eyes hooded with passion as he palms both my breasts and tweaks a nipple hard.

”Dario,” I whisper, lost in this pleasure he”s creating within me.

”Shh,” he whispers against my skin, nipping it lightly with his teeth before sliding his warm tongue inside me once more.

He grips my hips as he devotes himself to his task, driving me wild with passion—my whole body tenses underneath him, begging for release. My moans echo through the room as his tongue dances across my most intimate spots, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me.

“Dario,” his name falls from my lips. He doesn”t stop or slow down.

”God, Dario.”

There”s no space for coyness or shame when he looks up at me, his eyes locked onto mine, guiding me through the crescendo of pleasure. He doesn”t ease up, his mouth and fingers a duet of relentless passion, as if he too is chasing something vital within my release.

My body bows like a taut string, the tension snapping as I cry out. At this moment, there is no Mafia, no age gap, no arranged marriage. There”s only Mia and Dario, entwined in the purest form of communication.

As I come back down, panting and floating on the aftershocks, Dario remains close, his presence a grounding force. I catch my breath, feeling the subtle shifts of his body against mine, the way his chest rises and falls in a rhythm that lulls my senses.

Dario rises to stand.

”Why haven”t you…?” My voice trails off as my gaze darts down his body, where his erection strains against the fabric of his pants.

Dario undresses with a deliberate slowness while never taking his eyes off me. When he”s naked, his arousal is evident and insistent, bringing on a new wave of desire that crashes over me. He returns to me, positioning himself with a possessive grace, and in one fluid motion, he”s inside me, filling me.

His mouth on mine muffles the gasp that escapes me, sealing our fates with a kiss.

His whisper brushes over my lips, ”The first one was all about you, Bella.”

He grinds into me, groaning softly in my ear. His movements are slow and deliberate as he pistons into me with unwavering determination.

I cling to him, feeling the strength in his arms as I instinctively curl my legs around his waist. ”Yes, Dario. Just like that.”

“Bella,” he murmurs. “This is going to be so good for you, I promise.”

His thrusts grow harder and faster, and the bed creaks in rhythm with our bodies as sweat beads on our skin. His nipples graze mine, sending shockwaves through us both. I cry out softly—a sound that echoes off the walls.

Our breathing becomes labored, heavy pants that mingle with one another as we push each other closer to the brink. The sheets grow damp underneath us, stained with our sweat and passion, adding to the already charged atmosphere.

His eyes darken with lust as he holds mine captive, seeing right through any facade I might have tried to maintain before. This is raw passion, unfiltered lust fueling us both now.

He grips my hair tightly, pulling me into a bruising kiss as he continues to plunge into me. Our kiss deepens, and our tongues dance as his pace quickens further still.

The headboard hits the wall behind us in time with our grunts and moans. I squeeze my eyes shut, giving in to the sensation of being owned by him.

“Look at me, Bella,” he commands, his eyes burning with intensity. ”I want to look into your eyes when you come apart.”

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze as the tension builds to a breaking point.

”Dario,” I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Each time he grazes my clit, I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes me closer to the edge. He kisses along my jawline, growling against my skin.

”That”s it, Bella,” he encourages, tenderly touching my face. ”Let go for me.”

With a final thrust, I shatter beneath him, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He follows close behind as we climax in unison, our bodies arching off each other with unbridled desire.

Sweat glistens on our skin under the dim light from the cityscape outside. I feel him shudder before collapsing onto me with a groan of satisfaction. His weight grounds me like an anchor.

He rolls off me and then pulls me close so that my back is pressed against his chest. We lay like this for a while, listening to each other’s breathing and the rhythmic beating of our hearts.

It seems we stay like this for an eternity, melding together as if we were made for this moment. Wanting to see him, I turn around so we are face to face.

The soft hum of the city at dawn creeps through the curtains, a murmur against the quiet of the room. Dario”s arm, a steady weight over my waist, holds me close. I trace the line of his jaw, rough with the promise of a coming beard, then trail my hand to his chest, and his body seems to relax beneath my touch.

”Never knew a touch could speak until you,” he murmurs, his voice gravel mixed with velvet as his hand finds mine under the covers.

”Words are overrated,” I whisper back, his heartbeat echoing against my palm.

He laughs.

”In that case, we should conserve them,” he suggests, tilting his head to capture my lips with his, a slow, lingering kiss that tells me more than any grand speech ever could.

My fingers dance across the map of his tattoos. ”Your skin”s like a canvas. Every inked line is a tale begging to be read.”

He catches my hand and presses it to his lips.

”And you read me well, Mia. Better than anyone.”

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the thrum of life within him. ”You”re a mystery, and I want to spend a lifetime solving it.”

He tightens his hold. ”A lifetime”s what I”m aiming for.”

The light sneaks in, golden and bold, casting a mosaic across his skin. His fingers trace idle patterns along my spine, sending shivers that spark tiny wildfires within me.

”Tell me,” I begin, pausing to breathe in his scent, ”what does the morning look like to you?”

He ponders, a crease forming between his brows. ”It”s like the first page of a book. Full of potential, untold stories… with you, it”s a story I want to get lost in.”

”And the night?” I prod, curious about the shadows that sometimes dance in his eyes.

”The night,” he says, pulling me closer, ”is when I fight my demons. But now, with you, I find my peace.” He brushes my sweat-drenched hair from my face. ”Now rest, Bella.”

The dawn shifts, the light growing stronger, but the world outside holds no sway. I find a haven in Dario’s arms, our whispers the only testament to the night”s confessions.

”We”ve got a fight ahead of us,” he says after a moment, his eyes meeting mine with a steely resolve.

I nod. ”We”ll face it together.”

The silence that follows is not empty. So much is said without the need for words. As the first rays of the sun crown the horizon, we stay intertwined.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask softly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it aloud.

”There”s nowhere else I”d rather be,” Dario replies with another kiss.

Then he reaches between us to cup my breast, his fingers grazing my nipple roughly—my skin tingles in response, a soft moan escaping at the sensation. I know with absolute certainty that this moment—this union of our bodies and souls—will forever alter the course of our lives.

And I am ready to surrender myself entirely to the intoxicating pull of Dario DeLuca.