Chapter 20 #2
I give him time to process. It’s clear he’s struggling with the idea of letting go of the past. Some part of him doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to be happy again.
I don’t know much about loss. It’s not something that’s had an impact on my life.
But I wish I could take on his pain. I would absorb all of it just so he could soar across that stage unburdened. No grief or sorrow weighing him down. No sadness filling up his bones.
In time, Dante hefts his body onto the stage. He plants his ass on the floor to shuck off his boots.
My pulse quickens in anticipation. I’m eager to see him in motion. Especially when he tugs down his sweats and reveals those tight booty shorts he usually wears at the club.
He slips on a pair of ballet shoes and spends an extraordinarily long time stretching out his muscles. I force myself into the nearest seat to keep from striding to that stage and acting on my primal instincts to see how many positions I could bend him into.
Dante rises on the tips of his toes a few times before meticulously working through ballet positions. He does an easy spin, followed by a couple of effortless leaps. Strings might as well be attached to his body with the height he achieves.
He pauses for a moment, shoulders creeping up to his ears. I wait for him to tell me he’s done.
And then he exhales deeply before launching into an intense routine not so different from the ones I’ve seen on this stage before, performed by professionals.
Dante pours his love into ballet. Every movement is intentional. He’s raw strength when he wants to be, those fit thighs powering his body across the stage. But he’s also soft elegance in between, his motions flowing together so beautifully, they take my breath away.
Suddenly, he crumples on the stage, head dropping and knees coming to his chest.
I can’t leave him alone anymore. Rushing to the stage, I hoist myself up and pull him against me. His hands grip my jacket as he buries his face in my neck.
I’m preparing for his tears, however, his whispered “thank you” hits me unexpectedly hard.
“I don’t believe it. Did you just use manners?”
His laugh is breathy. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Dante pushes away slightly, and I revel in the smile on his face right before he brings his mouth to mine. He controls the kiss, keeping it sweet. Nothing more than a slow melding of our lips and a simple teasing of our tongues.
His hands suddenly tug at my jacket. “Want this off.”
“Then take it off.”
Drawing back once more, he glares at me. But then a look of determination comes over him. He pushes off my jacket. This is followed by my shirt, which he quickly disposes of.
“Stopping there or…” I grin.
Pretty brown eyes rove over me. My cock thickens as his hands splay on my chest, exploring the shape of me. All the while, I fight the urge to take control and claim him hard and fast right here on the stage.
When his fingers brush over my nipples, I rumble with a growl and curl my hands around his ass.
His smile is playful. “You like that?”
Who is this sweet man in my arms?
I’m breathing hard as he runs his hands up to my collarbones and then down the cut of my biceps to where blue veins glow through my pale, inked forearms.
“What is all of this?” He traces the designs.
His sudden interest has me grinning. “Tattoos.”
“Yeah, but why do this when you can barely see them? They look like scars.”
My eyes fall shut as his fingers continue tracing along my skin, driving me to the brink of sanity. “You saying scars aren’t pretty, kitten?”
Dante’s hands stop moving. When I open my eyes, his brows are deeply furrowed. “Not at all.”
I peck a kiss to his bottom lip. “You can stop with that face. There’s no story here. No meaning to my ink. They’re just random designs I had stitched into my skin over the years out of boredom.”
He pouts. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”
I press my thumb to his bottom lip, pushing it back into place. When it pops out again, I lean in to sink my teeth into it. Dante forces me back, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I think you feel more than you let on. I think you let others believe what they want to believe about you.”
My heart does a weird skipping thing. I give pause for this strange new feeling washing over me. It’s heavy and not so pleasant.
Most people try to label or diagnose me. Few people have tried to understand me. None of them were ever men I’ve fucked around with.
Gripping Dante tighter, I haul him onto my thighs. “Do you really want to know what I feel?”
He swallows before nodding, and I kiss his neck for every emotion I list off. “Amusement. Lust. Anger. Excitement. Obsession. Mostly self-serving emotions.”
I stop, giving him a moment to process. Giving myself a moment to decide how much I should tell him.
“I have antisocial personality disorder, Dante.” I frown.
“At least, that’s what Isaac tells me. I do feel things, but not the full spectrum of what I observe from others.
I’m aware of what is right and wrong, I just don’t always care in the wake of my boredom.
I’ve tortured, maimed, and killed more people than I can remember. Have I scared you off yet?”
He thinks about this for a moment. “I probably should be scared.”
But he brings his lips to mine.
When he pulls away, I touch a hand to his face. “I would never hurt you. I need you to believe that.”
He nods, turning slightly to kiss the center of my palm. “I do.”
Then he goes back to tracing my tattoos.
I stare at this perfect, vulnerable human as he watches his fingers move on my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He dips them through the valleys of my abs, and I tighten my arms around him.
Curious brown eyes flick up to meet mine as he slips a finger below the waistband of my pants.
“You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?” I chuckle.
His lips quiver with a small smile. I’m hit with an overwhelming desire to make it grow. To see it light up his face.
I bet he’s stunning when he’s happy.
Tugging him closer, I seal our mouths together. Dante whimpers as I part his lips with my tongue.
Hands suddenly push me back onto the stage, and I have to laugh as Dante hovers over me with hunger in his brown eyes.
“That’s it. Be rough with me,” I tease.
“You get off on it, don’t you?” His hands and lips move everywhere, kissing and sucking and nipping and stroking me.
Eyelids fluttering, I rock my hips against him. “Hope you have a plan for this.”
I may not have his serpentine moves—fuck, am I excited for him to ride me—but I have motivation and drive. That’s got to count for something.
Dante slides down my body, mouthing at my cock, straining to break free from my pants. He rubs against me long enough to have me growling and tackling him to the floor.
I smash my lips to his as my hands delve under his shirt to pinch his nipples. He moans and arches into me.
Rising up just enough to strip off his shirt, I attack him once more.
Fuck, I love the way he comes to life for me. Love how his legs fall open and his hands tug at my hair enough to give me an edge of pain that has my cock achingly hard.
My fucked up brain screams at me to sink into him right here. To swallow down his cries of pain and pleasure. To tie him up and keep him forever.
Dante has no hope of ever escaping me. Not until I’m six feet under. Even then, I’ll come back to haunt him.
Kissing my way down his body to his tiny booty shorts, I sink my teeth into a trembling thigh.
In a flash, I’m tossed onto my back again. A raspy laugh escapes me, echoing through the theatre. It quickly turns into a growl as he frees my cock and takes it into his hot, eager mouth.
Dante dives in without hesitation, focused on ruining me. And fuck, is he doing a hell of a job.
I run my fingers through his hair as he bobs up and down on my length. “You can take me deeper, baby boy. Let me see it.”
His teeth close around my shaft in warning. But then he closes his eyes and shows me just how good he can be by taking me all the way to the back of his throat. He struggles a bit, tears forming in his eyes. I brush one away as it sneaks free.
“Get me there, kitten. Fuck yes. I’m gonna blow you so good when you’re done.”
He moans around me, and I lose it. Snapping my hips up one last time, I come with a grunt, spilling into his mouth for several blissful, earth-shattering seconds.
Dante swallows every drop of my release. When he finally pops off, leaving my abs quivering, I swipe at the bit of cum on his lip, pushing it back inside his mouth.
“Your turn.” I hook a leg around his waist and roll us over, curling my fingers under the waistband of his stretchy shorts. With a quick tug, I pull them down to his muscular thighs. His perfect, pretty cock springs free.
“Don’t just fucking look at it.” He squirms beneath me.
Smirking, I tease him with a slow swipe of my tongue from the base to the tip. Then I mouth and lick at his balls until he’s really whining.
“Rev.”
“Such sweet desperation. How bad do you want it?”
I toy with sucking on his crown, enough that his nails sink deep into the flesh over my shoulder blades. If I could get hard again this fast, I would.
“Please.”
“I love hearing you beg, kitten. Suck on my fingers. Get them sloppy.”
He does just that, sucking two of my fingers into his mouth and slicking them up.
Stripping him of his shorts, I push his thighs wide open and sink my mouth down on his cock as I bring those spit-slicked fingers to his hole.
Dante cries and bucks and drags his nails across my skin. I rumble in approval, breaching him with a finger. When I get two fingers pressed against his prostate, his precum blooms on my tongue, and his eyes roll back in his head. I slurp on his cock obscenely, like I can’t get enough of his taste.
“Don’t fucking stop. Need it. Please. Oh god. I’m so close. Rev.”
My name whimpered from his sinful mouth might be my favorite thing in the world. Second behind seeing him perform ballet.
Running my hands along the backs of his smooth thighs, I grip his ass and help him thrust harder into my mouth.
I want the pain. I want him to know he’s free to let go with me.
Dante pumps into me with reckless abandon. “Close. So close. You stop, and I’ll kill you.”
The image of him with a knife to my throat has me holding him deep in my throat. His entire body coils up. When I swallow around him, he comes with a string of breathy, sexy moans, melting into a boneless puddle on the stage.
I kiss my way back up his body.
“I’m assuming you’re done dancing for the day,” I tease.
Panting, he nods. “Only if you promise to bring me here again.”
“You know…you could be doing this instead.”
Dante freezes up. “Don’t try to talk me out of hunting SIXX.”
“Kitten. You don’t have to be a part of this.”
“You don’t get it.” His eyes shimmer with barely contained rage.
I rest my chin on his sternum. “Tell me, then. What don’t I get?”
As quickly as his temper flares, it’s pulverized under a fresh wave of hurt that has his features twisting up. I have never once appreciated my lack of emotional depth, but this level of pain is too much for any human to weather alone.
“Giving this up…it feels like giving up on Papi. Like I’m accepting his murder. Or like I’m putting that responsibility in someone else’s hands, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be the person who always needs someone to take care of me.”
Stretching up, I kiss his cheek. “I understand. Thank you for sharing.”
“Rev,” he warns. “I do need you to understand. I can’t have you taking this from me. I won’t forgive you.”
The pout of his lips and the deepening furrow between his brows has me sighing. I brush a curl away from his face. “Anything you say. I’m yours to command.”