Chapter 19
Theo
Dante is surprising me, and for once I’m not entirely thrilled about it. Not only is he refusing to tell me where we’re going, but he’s taken complete control of the day. When I asked for a second coffee like any reasonable person who needs multiple doses of caffeine to function, he simply said no.
The nerve.
“Are you still pouting over there?” The sun catches his dark brown eyes, turning them a warm, shimmering amber as he glances over at me.
I refuse to let them distract me. “I am not pouting. I’m too cute to pout.”
“That you are,” he mutters, snickering quietly to himself.
“No, you’re misunderstanding. I’m so fucking adorable that I shouldn’t even have to pout. You should just automatically give me whatever I ask for.”
“That’s a pretty high-level demand,” he says, rolling his lips between his teeth to hide a smile. “What if your requests are unreasonable?”
I scoff and roll my eyes, admiring my freshly painted blue fingernails. “What would you consider unreasonable?”
“Murder?”
I hum thoughtfully. “I can think of one person you’d murder for me.”
He grunts something that sounds suspiciously like agreement.
“Okay, but at least give me a hint,” I beg, gesturing at my basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. “Why did I have to wear these? This is completely ruining my aesthetic.”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Get where?”
He just smiles and reaches over to lace our fingers together, refusing to answer.
“That’s not fair either,” I complain. “You can’t just hold my hand to make me stop asking questions.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, he lifts our joined hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of mine.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter. “When did I become this whipped? One little smooch on the knuckles and I’m suddenly all doe-eyed and agreeable.”
Dante barks out a loud laugh. “This is agreeable?” He seems to immediately regret the words, because he suddenly becomes very interested in the road ahead to avoid my eyes.
He pulls into a nondescript parking lot, and I glance around at the random assortment of shops nearby. Once we’re out of the car, he takes my hand again and tugs me along behind him toward a door, but leads me through before I can read the sign.
A mountain of a man stands in front of us.
My eyes widen as they travel up his massive frame.
He’s enormous, with thick, dark hair pulled back with a bandana tied across his forehead.
“Yo, Dante!” His voice is as substantial as his build.
Dante releases my hand to pull him into a brief, one-armed hug.
I glance around the space, where people are sparring in makeshift rings while others are lifting weights or pounding on heavy bags. My gaze returns to the giant man, who’s now smiling at me.
“You’re Jugs.”
He flashes a wide, warm smile, and despite his size, there’s a surprising calm about him. “And you’re Theo.”
I nod, wringing my hands as I look around the room, suddenly intimidated by how much bigger everyone here seems. Dante misses nothing, and slides an arm around my shoulders.
“Hey,” he murmurs close to my ear. “What’s wrong?”
I lean into him and shake my head, struggling to put the feeling into words. I scan the room again before my eyes lift to meet Jugs’ observant gaze.
“I’ve never been bothered by my size before,” I explain. “But ever since everything with Jesse… I don’t know. It’s hard not to feel small.”
Dante shuffles between his feet at my side. “That’s why we’re here. I thought it might help if you learned some self-defense.”
My brows snap up as I turn to stare at him.
“I know it might make you uncomfortable,” he continues, less certain now, “but if it helps you take back even a small piece of what he stole from you…”
This man.
This perfect, incredible man.
My arms circle his neck before I can think twice about it. I yank him forward and kiss him, pouring everything I can’t quite say into it. He inhales sharply in surprise, but his arms settle around my waist and he kisses me back.
“Thank you,” I finally whisper against his mouth.
Jugs lets out a soft, amused chuff. “Got your hands full with that one, don’t you, Dante?”
I step back and flash him a smile while Dante stares at me, looking a little dazed.
“You have no idea,” he mutters.
Jugs leads us through the room, where the thump of gloves against mitts or hanging bags makes up its own sort of soundtrack. He nods and smiles at everyone we pass, and stops once to make a quick posture adjustment on someone before we enter a private room at the back of the gym.
“The clothes make sense now,” I say as we step into the quieter space.
“Even if they ruin your aesthetic?” Dante teases.
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Even then.”
Jugs and Dante lay out the mats, and I bounce lightly on my feet, hovering close to Dante as he works.
Given my complete lack of experience, we begin at square one with the fundamentals.
When I ask about punching, Dante shakes his head and explains I’m far more likely to hurt myself than someone else at this stage.
It turns out I have to master simply standing before I can even think about throwing a punch.
How dull.
They show me stances, then teach me the palm-heel strike and point out the weakest parts of the body.
Once I’ve got the motion down, Dante slips on a pair of padded striking mitts and holds them up at the vulnerable targets we’ve discussed—the nose as the primary focus, the throat as a strong secondary option.
Over and over, I jab at Dante’s face until my arms burn with exhaustion and sweat drips down my back.
When he notices my form becoming sloppy, we switch to kicks.
With Dante’s hands steady on my back to guide my weight and balance, I learn how to put real power behind my leg.
Not once do I feel embarrassed by how little I know, even when it takes me longer than I’d like to grasp a concept.
Throughout the entire session, Dante answers every question in careful detail. He cheers me on for the smallest improvements, and celebrates each tiny victory. By the time our hour is up, my body is exhausted, but my confidence is through the roof.
On our way out, we stop to talk with Jugs and agree to come at least once a week, then say goodnight.
I’ve never been quite so happy to feel the cold air as I am when we step outside.
My body is buzzing as we drive home, the endorphins from the exercise giving me energy in bounds.
Dante chuckles as I ramble on, talking his ear off about everything and nothing at all.
We step inside the house, but Dante frowns and pats his pockets. “Ah, shit. I think I left my phone at the gym.”
“Need to use mine?” I ask, already offering it to him.
He looks up the number and gets Jugs on the line. After a brief conversation, Jugs confirms the phone is waiting for him at the front desk.
“We can go back,” I offer.
Dante hesitates, his gaze sweeping over my sweaty clothes and flushed cheeks. “There’s no need for both of us to go. Are you comfortable staying here by yourself?”
I consider it for a moment, then nod.
“Why don’t you take a shower while I run and grab it? I’ll order a pizza on the way back and we can just stay in and relax tonight.”
“God, pizza sounds amazing,” I groan as my stomach growls. “Almost as good as cuddles on the couch.”
He steps closer, the leftover sheen of sweat catching the light on his cheeks. His tongue darts across his lips, and the intensity in his expression sends a full-body shiver racing through me. “Lock the door behind me and don’t answer if anyone knocks. I have my keys.”
“Dante, I’ll be fine. Nose, throat, and groin, remember?” He takes another step closer, and I grab his shirt and tug him toward me. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
He closes the distance, one hand splaying across my back as he kisses me. His lips part just enough for the tip of his tongue to brush mine.
Fuck, he tastes incredible.
He doesn’t give me much—just a teasing taste—but when he pulls away, his eyes are hazy and I’m burning. “I’ll be back soon,” he says, voice rough. There’s a heavy pause before he kisses me again, like he can’t help himself, then slips out the door with one last glance over his shoulder.
Every cell in my body feels alive as I step into the shower. My cock is already rigid as I wash away the sweat and grime. Water droplets cling to my skin while I dry off, and even the simple drag of the towel has me moaning softly.
I wrap my fingers around my shaft, and a single slow pump sends stars bursting behind my eyelids.
Unless I want to risk putting Dante in a position he isn’t ready for, I need to take care of this.
Quick mental math tells me the round trip is about twenty minutes, and he’s already been gone for ten, so I should have at least half an hour before he returns.
The one toy I thought to bring sits at the bottom of my bathroom bag, tossed in at the last second. The smooth surface of the guest bed’s headboard should work perfectly, so I grab a towel and my bottle of lube.
Once I’ve covered the blankets with the towel, I attach the dildo at the right height and press it firmly to the headboard, grateful when it holds steady.
A generous squirt of lube coats the rubber cock, and another works its way over my fingers as I open myself up.
The moment I position myself on my hands and knees and push backward, a loud moan tears from my throat.
Fuck, I need this.
Each slow rock stretches me further until the first tight ring of muscle gives way. Not bothering to stay quiet, I push back until I’ve taken the entire length.
“Goddamn,” I whine, staring at my heavy cock hanging between my legs and the thin strand of arousal that dangles almost to the bed. I clench around the toy, groaning as another rush of precum spills from me.
I rock back and forth a few times, letting the stretch settle into something more comfortable.
Then I close my eyes and imagine it’s Dante behind me.
I pretend it’s morning, that I wake up wrapped in his arms only for him to flip me over and press the thick head of his cock against my hole.
I sink back with a moan at the thought of him sliding inside me.
I start to move, slow at first, but it doesn’t take long before I’m speeding up. I shift my angle until the toy bumps perfectly against my prostate, sending goosebumps racing across my skin with every jolt of pleasure.
The weight of my cock swings heavily between my legs, heightening everything as I thrust faster.
The tension coils tighter and tighter inside me, throbbing so intensely that I know I won’t even need to touch myself to come.
I throw my head back and lose myself in the fantasy, letting it unfold behind my closed eyelids.
The headboard knocks faster against the wall as I imagine Dante’s hands gliding over my body and his hot breath against my ear.
It knocks harder as I picture the ache of his cock driving into me, and the tight clench of my hole around him.
I’m desperate, my need for him fueling every frantic rock of my hips.
God, I’ve never needed anything the way I need him.
Pleasure builds in my core until it’s almost unbearable. My legs begin to shake as my movements turn frantic, imagining him moaning low in my ear while he fills me with his release. My balls draw up tight against my body, and I’m so fucking close.
The smallest sound makes my eyes fly open.
My jaw drops.
Dante stands in the doorway.
Staring.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp, my rhythm faltering for a split second. But then my gaze drops to the massive erection straining against his shorts, and it’s too much. It sends me hurtling over the edge with no hope of stopping.
Consequence be damned, I push my torso up and plant my palms on my thighs, slamming back onto the toy to give him a full, unobstructed view of my naked body.
His eyes meet mine for a brief, heated moment before dropping between my legs.
A quiet, broken whimper escapes him as his hand drifts downward.
He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it as he grips his cock through the fabric, but it’s more than I can handle.
A loud moan tears from my throat as my entire body curls inward, and then the pressure releases all at once.
I come hands-free, shooting thick ropes of cum across the towel while the force of my orgasm makes me tremble.
More streams spill down my shaft until the intense waves finally ease into aftershocks.
My breath comes heavy as I wrap my fingers around my cock and give a few slow, final pumps. A few last droplets leak from my tip as my eyes drift up to meet Dante’s.
He looks pained, and the sound he makes is dangerously close to falling apart. His shorts are stretched taut over his erection, his fingers gripping his thick length through the fabric as if he’s barely holding himself together.
Our eyes hold for what feels like forever, the seconds stretching taut between us until I finally ease my body off the dildo. He snaps out of it and darts into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
He actually thinks he can hide from this?
“Oh, no you don’t,” I mutter, scrambling off the bed and racing after him.