Chapter 44
DANTE
S he’s asleep, laying on her side with her knees bent, all tucked up and looking cute.
I’ve spent a year wondering what she’d look like in my bed. Except it was never this bed. This apartment isn’t mine. I rent it. I’m not attached to it, anyway. It’s just a place I stay while I implement my plans.
But it’s still my bed, and she’s now in it. Right where she belongs.
Her vulnerability slams into me. A pawn in the games of made men.
My dick grows hard and strains against my zipper, coaxing me to take what’s mine.
For too long I’ve watched her from afar.
I thought there’d be a greater sense of satisfaction.
But it’s lost under the bitter rage at how long it took, how much suffering happened in between, and in being denied what was mine.
No more.
Do I hate her for what she unwittingly drove me to do and to be?
None of this is her fault. Why do I want to exact my revenge on her? Maybe not revenge, more payment due. It doesn’t make much sense and I’m better than this.
She deserves better.
Yet here we are.
It’s been a long day, and it’s late, so I shouldn’t be surprised she’s in bed.
It’s not like I was expecting her to wait up for me.
Only I think if she were awake, if I could see her eyes, it might calm the beast prowling under the surface of my skin.
She’s been on my mind all day, and although Leon told me she had seemed fine when Cherry dropped off the stuff, I’ve also worried about her.
Someone assaulted her and tried to rape her less than a week ago.
Christian abducted her this morning, and as she pointed out, she didn’t know it was him at first.
Can you be worried about someone and want to exact revenge on their body at the same time?
I swallow hard.
I guess I do, so there’s my answer.
There are a lot of unknowns and a hell of a lot of risks ahead of us. I can’t keep Carmela cooped up in my apartment forever. And I definitely can’t pretend I care about Helena, even for political gain, over an extended period of time.
Still, Ettore asking me for help in finding her is an opening we can exploit.
Blood is about to be spilled. I’m good with that so long as it’s not Carmela’s. No one gets to hurt her again.
I need sleep. But I’m also restless. I could wake her up—I want to wake her, but that would make me an asshole, wouldn’t it? She looks peaceful. She’s on her period. Probably tired from that and the ordeal.
I continue staring down at her, hoping my mere presence might register and do the work for me.
She doesn’t so much as murmur. I slip back out of the room and use the guest bedroom en suite to shower. My dick is standing to attention, thinking about her being all snuggled up just one room away.
I ignore it. Consider knocking one out because I’m going to be getting into the bed with her, and she doesn’t need this poking her in the ass.
This is about the long game now, about a future where she becomes my wife.
Yeah? How’s that going to work out, with Christian on the sidelines?
“She’s got a prescription for birth control in her bag. I know someone who makes placebos. I’ll get you duds to replace them with, yeah?”
Not exactly on the sidelines. My brother is playing a starring role.
Should I be more pissed he’s gotten so close to her? That he suggested replacing her birth control—that he would think this was a thing?
I’m not pissed. About any of it. And I don’t know what the fuck to make of that, other than it is what it is.
There’s not even a hint of recoil or hesitation in my mind.
I’m going to replace her birth control, and then I’m going to fuck her.
Every time I do, I’ll be thinking about how I might get her pregnant.
When she discovers it’s happened, it will be a surprise, but I’m going to take care of her and make sure she never worries ever again.
I dry off and return to my bedroom. We didn’t discuss sleeping arrangements… other than I told her this was my bed, and she was sleeping in it. She didn’t go back to the guest bedroom and sleep there.
That’s her telling me to fuck her, right?
My dick has gone through arousal and into the pain stage of need.
I don’t bother putting anything on. From what I can tell, she’s wearing a T-shirt. That’s already one layer of clothing too many. Drawing the covers back, I slide into the bed behind her. I’m not particularly careful about it, and I’m half hoping she’ll wake up.
Nothing. When she sleeps, she really sleeps.
I slide my hand around her waist, leaving a small gap between our bodies because my dick thumping against her ass will definitely wake her, and now I’m here in bed with her; I find I like this a lot.
She fidgets against me and then settles right down.
I could get used to this.
It’s only now that I notice the T-shirt she’s wearing is far too big—one of mine.
Dark, possessive emotions stir inside me.
I lower my nose to her hair and breathe in her scent.
My hand is curled around her waist over the material, but it’s impossible to leave it there knowing she got into my bed with my clothing against her skin.
Burrowing underneath the fabric, I make contact with the soft skin of her stomach.
I press a kiss to her hair, letting my hand slide up until I can close it over her breast. She stirs but doesn’t wake. Her nipple grows taunt as I brush my thumb back and forth across it. She arches her back. Her ass connects with my dick.
I grit my teeth as pleasure shoots the length. I can’t remember ever being this close to coming without any direct stimulation. It’s her scent, her presence, the knowledge that she’s dependent on me for protection, clothing, and the food she will eat.
I pinch and roll her nipple between my fingers and thumb, slowly increasing the pressure, wondering just how far I can go with this.
She’s mine now. In my bed voluntarily. I’ll take good care of her. And do whatever it takes to eliminate Ettore. But I also need to stake my claim—to fuck her on my terms and where I’m not in a rush.
My hand slides downward, easing under the waistband of her panties until I can push my fingers between her thighs and cup her intimately. My breathing is uneven from the strain of not coming against her ass.
Then I sink my middle finger a small way into her— slick .
Blood? Arousal?
My dick doesn’t get the memo that it’s almost certainly blood. I can feel the string of her tampon. When I press a little deeper, I reach the blockage it presents.
Should that deter me?
It doesn’t.
Her legs slide against one another around my hand. I wait to see if she will finally wake, pressing a kiss against her silken hair, enjoying the feeling of having some part of me inside her.
But I need more. My balls feel tight and heavy.
Mine —I can do whatever I want.
Her panties need to come off. Reluctantly, I ease my finger out and carefully work them down over her hips in slow, steady increments.
When I’ve gotten them somewhere around mid-thigh, I decide that’s far enough. My dick is in agony. My hand shakes with the strain of going slow; my heart thumps in my chest. I torment myself by sliding my cock between her thighs and against her pussy from behind until I can’t take any more.
I need to come, to feel her around me. Pulling the string aside, I push the tip of my dick slowly inside her, feeling the moment of resistance before the flesh gives, sucking me in.
I bite back a groan.
My breathing sounds too loud. I just want to bury myself deep inside her and come. I taunt myself for a while, pushing the head in and letting it slide back out, bumping against her tampon with every slow thrust.
But it’s not enough.
Maybe if I took it out?
I don’t claim any particular knowledge on this, but there’s a string attached to it for a reason, so I guess I pull. I slide my dick out, curl my finger around the string and gently tug.
It doesn’t move. It’s like it’s lodged in there. How hard do you have to pull? What if the string comes off? Maybe the angle she’s lying is all wrong?
I’m pulling with ever-increasing force when it suddenly comes out.
I hold my breath, anticipating her waking. She only kicks out against the covers and settles again.
My heart beats loudly. I toss it somewhere behind me. I couldn’t give a fuck about the mess or where the fuck it might be. All I can think about is touching her without it in the way.
I dip two fingers inside her. They slide deep with an ease that makes me choke back another groan. Her blood makes her slick. She’s all hot and tight inside.
She feels fucking amazing.
I’m not being as careful anymore, aroused by the prospect of her discovering me doing this to her. My thrusting fingers start to make the filthiest squelching noises.
My dick says hell yes.
I’m burning with impatience now. She’s in my bed—basically asking to get fucked.
Sweat breaks out across the surface of my skin. I’m on the cusp of madness, and there’s only one course of action left.
I line up the head of my cock, and push a small way in.
Then I clamp my hand around her waist to keep her still and thrust deep.
CARMELA
I linger somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, aroused by a notion that something is not quite right. My moan pierces the fog. It rides on the back of sweet, achy pleasure. I mumble something incoherent, trying to remember where I am, desperately trying to claw my way out of the dream.
“You feel so good, baby. Yeah, squeeze me again just like that.”
Fear seizes me, then I’m cut free from its grip as I recognize the voice.
“God! What?” I groan again. My mind plays catch-up with the pleasure building in my body.
He’s inside me, pumping into me from behind.
My wrists are clasped loosely at my belly in his hand.
I clench over his length. I’m all achy with my period and I can’t decide whether I like this or not.
“Dante… I—” Panic grips me anew. “I had a?—”