Chapter 41
ESSENCE
My stomach twists with nerves as we pull into the driveway. After breakfast, we went to the dog park and let Lunchbox run around and play with other dogs.
The tension between Dante and I was so thick, I felt like I was suffocating from the weight of it. Even with some space between us, and our thick layers of clothes, I could practically feel his body heat radiating off him.
He’d draped his arm over the back of the bench we were sitting on and let his thumb graze the curve of my shoulder. I shivered from the contact through my coat and sweater, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how his touch affected me.
An hour later, we got back in the truck and spent another fifteen minutes in tension-filled silence. His hand rested nonchalantly on my knee the entire car ride, and I silently cursed him for making this so damn hard for me.
After he helps me out, I hold onto Lunchbox’s leash and follow him up to the front door. When he unlocks it, Lunchbox pulls on the leash until I let go, and he goes zooming around the living room. Dante and I laugh as we hang up our coats on the hooks by the door.
I expect him to force me to my knees as soon as we get home, but instead he sits on the floor and plays with Lunchbox. I’m very confused, but I don’t question it because I think I might actually die of embarrassment if he actually made me kiss his boot.
The three of us spend the rest of the day in a peaceful little bubble. I make us lunch and we eat outside while Lunchbox explores the backyard, and then I help Dante with some work around the house that he’d started before Leo died but never finished.
Our lazy day turns into a busy one, and by the end of it, Lunchbox is exhausted. By five o’clock, he’s passed out in the middle of the living room snoring soundly. He’s still sleeping when Dante grabs my hand and says, “Let’s go in the bedroom.”
I follow behind him as he pulls me towards the bedroom, then pushes me inside, and closes the door quietly. Then he turns to me with his arms crossed over his broad chest and raises an eyebrow expectantly.
“Well?”
Oh, right.
I should have known he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Clearing my throat, I slowly get down on my knees in front of him. Suddenly, this room feels way too small for the two of us. Dante is massive, and down here on the floor, on my knees in front of him, he feels like a giant.
The hardness of his erection pokes through his jeans and tempts me. I haven’t sucked him off yet, and the thought of it makes my mouth water.
“I’m waiting, little flower,” he says in a voice dark and deep, looking down at me like he’s some dark king and I’m his loyal subject.
Letting out a breath, I place my hands on the floor and lean down until my face is hovering over his boot.
My thighs quiver, and I can’t tell if it’s from the effort of keeping myself from falling over or knowing that I’m about to kiss someone’s shoe.
My core warms as a wave of arousal washes over me.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Looking up at Dante once more, I don’t know why I expect him to put a stop to this. His bulge reminds me that he’s just as into this as I am.
“Do it, Essence,” he commands in a rough, almost strained voice.
Swallowing, I lean back down and kiss his boot.
“What do you say, baby girl?” he asks.
Fuck.
“Thank you, Daddy, for killing my boyfriend,” I say quietly, knowing exactly what to say to provoke him.
I look up at him with innocent eyes and kneel before him in subservience.
For a second, he just towers over me, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite describe.
Then, he grips the back of my neck and roughly yanks me up until I'm standing in front of him.
His eyes are dark and filled with lust, and for a moment I fear I've made a terrible mistake.
This man is about to eat me alive.
One minute, I'm in front of him, the next, I'm being thrown onto the bed, squealing as my feet fly through the air. I land on the bed with an oomph! and frustratedly blow a curl out of my face.
“That was so unnecessary, Dante,” I scold, only minorly agitated about being thrown around. I know he means well, but after dealing with Evan’s shit, I don’t think I want to be manhandled in that way for a while.
So, you’re fine with him slicing you with his knife and choking you while he fucks you, but throwing you around is where you draw the line? my subconscious asks me rather aggressively.
Right, because that makes total sense.
Whatever. It’s a preference—it reminds me too much of the things Evan would do to me, and I don’t want to be reminded of that while I’m with Dante.
I sit up in the bed, ready to tell him, but he’s not there.
“Dante?”
No response. I call him again, but he still doesn’t answer.
Suddenly, I'm taken back to the night of Evan’s murder, when I awoke after being choked into unconsciousness. It was dark then, but there’s still a little daylight outside right now. Regardless, that doesn’t stop the tremors of fear from running through my body.
I slowly get off the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking out into the living room and kitchen. Lunchbox is no longer sprawled out on the floor, so I call him to come to me.
“Lunchbox? Come here,” I call out to him, making kissing noises to get his attention wherever he is, but he doesn’t come.
“Dante,” I say again, louder this time. Still nothing.
What the hell is going on? There’s no way Dante could have done something to him; he loves Lunchbox just as much as I do.
I step out into the living room and look around the dark space. The door leading to the garage is wide open. Dante always closes it before he leaves, which means he must still be here.
Huffing out a breath, I stomp to the garage, ready to chew his ass out for scaring me like this.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Dante, you’re scaring the shit out of me! And where the hell is—”
When I get to the garage, I stop.
A dark, shadowy figure is sitting in a folding chair in the dark, one long leg stretched out. His hands rest in his lap, and when I squint, I notice the silver glint of a blade in one hand. With his other hand, he flicks a lighter, bringing to life a small flame that he raises to his face.
Rather, his gas mask.
I’m a mess of fear and lust; the sight of him sitting here in the dark scares the shit out of me, but the objects of pain in his hands ignites a desire inside of me that only he can awaken.
We’re both silent for a moment. I’m not sure what his reason is other than to terrify me, but I can’t think of anything to say. When I’m finally able to use my words, I ask, “Where’s Lunchbox?” in the smallest, most pitiful voice.
Dante still doesn’t say anything. I can’t see through the mask from where I’m standing, but I know he’s devouring me with his eyes. He always is.
I squirm beneath his heated gaze. Warmth pools between my thighs, and I have to squeeze them shut to avoid making a mess of my pants.
“Run, little flower,” he finally says, the deepness of his voice sending shivers down my spine.
I want to run, but my feet stay rooted in place.
“But, Lunchbox—”
“Is fine,” he reassures me. “Now run.”