17. Margot
seventeen
Margot
Life is good. Complicated, sure, but good.
Instead of rushing straight off to his clubhouse and living there like he used to, he spends almost all his time exactly where I am.
It feels like we've stepped into a honeymoon phase with no end in sight.
A never-ending vacation, only rarely interrupted if something bad enough pops up that someone in his position needs to get involved.
For a man who looks like he’s never known a soft day in his life, he sure knows how to love a woman.
He's passionate and effortless, scooping me up whenever the mood strikes, just to kiss me because he misses the warmth of my lips. With nothing holding him back nowadays, he just does whatever he wants, whenever he wants.
Even now, as I'm putting the finishing touches on Kylee's dress, he's watching me from the couch like a shark that has sensed blood.
If it weren't for Madalyn's face filling the screen of the phone I have propped up, I have no doubt that he would've made a move by now.
We've caught up a few times about her stay in Mexico. The sunburn she had on her cheeks has faded to a golden brown. While she talks, I occasionally catch a brisk glimpse of Brandon's chin cutting into the corner of the screen.
He's as bad as Dante, from what I've heard. Even now, I think he has his arms wrapped around her.
Though I've updated Madalyn on my love life, I can't find the courage to be affectionate in front of her. It was humiliating enough to hear her threaten to kill him if he broke my heart through a phone call.
"Oh, but I've got some good news," Madalyn continues, not picking up on why my cheeks are currently pink. "Remember that local clothing line I told you I stumbled across on Instagram last month? The one doing the beachwear shoot down here?"
I set down my fabric shears, instantly locked onto the screen. "Don't tell me you actually reached out to them."
"All it took were some headshots, Margot. They want me to come in for a test shoot this Friday."
Gasping, I can't control the squeal that leaves me, matching the very same sound that leaves her. I'm practically beaming as I approach the phone to get a closer look at her identical smile.
"That is amazing! You're going to absolutely crush it." Turning toward Dante, I notice he's shifted on the couch, now sitting on the edge of it.
Seeing me match Madalyn's excitement does something to him. The hungry look in his eyes deepens, and as he sits up straighter, I can't help but notice the sudden, pronounced swell in his posture.
He’s aroused, purely from watching me radiate joy, and the sheer possessiveness of it makes my blood run hot.
"That's so—I mean, you're going to be..." I fumble through the sentence, the words catching in my throat as Dante stands.
By the time he closes the distance between us, I'm completely off the rails. He reaches out, his thick fingers curling to the device clutched in my hands, silently asking for it.
"Madalyn, I should go," I rush out, trying to mask the tremor in my voice. "Dante needs his phone."
"Oh, I bet he does," Madalyn laughs, waving at the camera. "Go! Bye, Sis. Bye, Dante. Say hello next time!"
The call ends, and he takes the phone from me. I brace myself for the impact of his hands on my waist, but instead, Dante keeps his eyes on the screen, his thumbs flying across the keyboard.
I blink, thrown off. "What are you doing?"
"Texting the club. Letting them know Casper’s calling the shots for the next two hours," he says calmly. He locks the screen and sets it face down, ignoring the way it immediately rattles more than once. "We aren't being interrupted."
A wave of heat crashes over my cheeks. I look at the sewing table, suddenly desperate for a distraction. "I should get this dress to Kylee. For the alterations. It—it might take a while."
Dante doesn't bother answering with words. He steps in, cups the back of my neck, and captures my mouth. The sheer warmth of him makes me completely dissolve, my hands instantly gripping his shirt for balance.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes search mine. "Can it wait?"
He already knows the answer. I’m still not used to all this attention he wants to aim at me.
Shyly, I nod. A slow smirk touches his lips just before he kisses me again. He picks me up with ease, his hands cradling the undersides of my thighs.
After all this time, we still haven’t gone the entire way. While that doesn’t mean that we haven’t explored each other, he’s been waiting for me to be ready.
I’m beyond ready.
He starts making his way to my room, just as he always does. Lately, he’s been spending his nights curled up next to me.
Pulling away, my eyes flick over toward his door. “How about your room?”
He pauses, caught off guard by my request. “That’s not… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Now I want to know what he’s hiding inside of there. There must be something, because despite abandoning all of the other pinpads, the one to his door remains active despite its lack of use.
“Please?” Stroking his bearded cheeks, I kiss the bridge of his nose, making him groan. “What secrets are you keeping from me?”
He sighs and nuzzles my neck as he starts moving toward the forbidden door. "No secrets. It's... the decor. Not the most arousing things to look at."
As he sets me down, I crack a smile. "You think I'll be able to look away from you?"
That makes him crack a smile, and he punches in the pin code before motioning for me to open it.
Doing so, I'm instantly wrapped in the scent of him mixed in with the metallic tang of gun oil. As he flicks on the light, I immediately spot the different types of guns on display, each holding their own spot against the wall.
My curiosity about whether they're just there to look at is answered when I spot the different boxes of ammunition stacked on his dresser.
The guns are just the start of it. On another wall, there's a jacket hanging with the back patch facing out. Different from his Steelwood one, this one has Crimson Road spelled out across it.
The leather is faded at the elbows, and when I approach, Dante doesn't stop me from touching it. I peel it back to see his name on the front with the same Vice President patch that Casper wears.
Surrounding the jacket are pictures of people I haven't met, and I can understand why. Dante looks young. In some of them, he's missing the scar I love.
"I like to remind myself where I came from to where I'm at now," he explains softly. "Past me would never have deserved to meet you. But the man I am now?"
"Meeting the man you are today is the very man who saved me," I tell him before pulling away from the memorabilia. "You're perfect, Dante."
Behind me, he lets out a low groan.
I guess he wasn't kidding. Nothing hot about being surrounded by something that spells out violence.
"Okay. You were right. We can go back to the other room. Thank you for trusting me enough to see this." Reaching for him, I grab his hand and tug him back out. "You should move your clothes in there so I can call it our room."
He rumbles behind me, squeezing my fingers tight. "The only clothes I'm worried about right now are the ones you're wearing right now."
Making me laugh at that, the amusement melts as we reach the other door.
The wood presses hard into my back as Dante’s lips crush against mine, his hands already sliding beneath the hem of my shirt. A breathless laugh escapes me, but the amusement instantly melts into pure heat.
He doesn't waste a single second. With one fluid, demanding motion, he pulls the fabric over my head and discards it somewhere behind us, the shirt fluttering uselessly to the floor. Just as quickly, he tears off his own, giving it the same fate.
My bare skin tingles in the cool air of the room, but the chill is gone the moment I press my palms flat against his chest. I slide my hands upward, feeling the heavy, burning heat of his muscles, my fingers trailing over his shoulders.
Dante lets out a ragged groan at my touch. His head drops into the crook of my neck, his breathing heavy and erratic against my pulse.
"We're never going to make it at this rate," he growls against my skin, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates straight through me.
Before I can even formulate a reply, his hands slide down, hooking under the curves of my thighs. He picks me up again with effortless ease, hoisting my weight against his chest as he carries me fully inside the room.
I gasp as he tosses me onto the mattress. The sudden, forceful impact sends a thrill straight down my spine. By now, he already knows I enjoy his roughness—knows that the slight edge to his strength doesn't scare me; it only makes my heart race faster.
I sprawl back against the sheets, looking up at him as he looms over the edge of the bed.
He doesn't let the distance last. He lunges over me, his large hands gripping the denim at my waist. With a swift tug, he helps me out of my jeans, pulling them down my legs and throwing them blindly to the floor.
He doesn't tear away my underwear. Instead, his fingers track the line of the lace, slowly working around them with a torturously teasing care until, before I even realize it, I’m completely naked beneath him.
Dante hovers over me, his eyes burning as they track every inch of my exposed skin. "Show me," he commands, his voice made up of nothing but labored breathing.
The possessive heat in his gaze strips away any lingering hesitation. Slowly, I part my thighs for him. He’s standing right at the edge of the mattress, and I know he can already see my glossy sex, glistening under the low light of the room. But I don't stop there.
Wanting to drive him crazy, I slide a hand down my own stomach, my fingers dipping lower until I part my own folds for him.
Watching his jaw clench, watching the absolute hunger take over his features, makes my pussy clench in pure eagerness for what is to come.
We’ve already done this song and dance nearly every night, but I’m still not used to him drinking me in like this.