Chapter 11 Dante
DANTE
She’s hiding something. Does she think I’m stupid? There’s guilt written all over her flushed face, and the color deepens the closer I get.
It’s the way she holds the phone close to her side that makes it obvious.
“Let me see.” I hold out my hand, crooking my fingers, doing my best to ignore the cloud of fresh-showered fragrance she’s wrapped in.
How long has it been since I gave in and buried my face in a woman’s neck when she’s just out of the shower?
Since I felt wet hair slide through my fingers while I tipped a woman’s head back to angle her mouth against mine?
“Absolutely not.” She even has the nerve to toss her head, which makes her damp locks slide over her chest and shoulders almost hypnotically before she hisses, “I deserve privacy.”
“It wasn’t a request, Sophia. It was an order.
” My hands are aching to take hold of her.
In my head, I see myself grabbing her wrist and twisting until she drops the phone so I can take a look at whatever she thinks she’s clever enough to keep from me.
“This is my house. You are my wife. And considering I took on the cost of your phone bill, I have every right to see what you are trying to hide.”
“Fuck off with that.” She’s out of reach before I can stop her, stomping her bare feet on the floor in her march to the stairs.
That might be what finally does it. It’s the sight of her storming away like a bratty kid. “Don’t walk away from me!” My shout is the crack of a whip. It fills the air before I march behind her, asking, “What the hell do you think this is? Some kind of game?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing!” She hasn’t stopped and doesn’t until she’s in her room with the door slammed shut. When I try to turn the knob, it won’t budge. She locked it.
“Open the door,” I bark, pounding my fist against the mute wood.
What is happening? How did it come to this?
I’m supposed to be stronger. Better. But goddammit, she has pushed me too far.
Hiding things. Locking the door against me in my own fucking house.
I’ve gone out of my way for her, and this is how I’m repaid.
“Go back to work,” she bellows from the other side of the door. “I know that’s where you really want to be, anyway. Leave me alone!”
If it were only that easy. I decide to let her be, like flipping a light switch in my head and turning off the dark corners she has somehow illuminated.
It’s those freshly lit up corners of my brain that make me give in to what I’ve been fighting too long. It’s what makes me back up a long step before raising my leg and kicking hard enough beneath the knob to make the door burst open.
She was standing at the foot of the bed, but now she scrambles around to the opposite side. Her eyes are wide and wild when she shrieks, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you psychotic?”
I’m starting to wonder. “You do not lock me out. Ever. Understood?” I growl, teeth bared, every breath ragged.
Even now, she pretends not to care. It has to be pretend, or else why would she tremble? “Oh, so now you’re going to play the big, scary husband?” she asks.
That’s when she makes her biggest mistake—she barks out a bitter laugh familiar enough to remind me of another woman who once laughed at me and that memory returns, “You think you can run your family? You can’t even run your own life!”
This is not Monica.
Monica has been dead for years, and I buried myself with her.
The trembling, breathless woman in front of me has nothing to do with that night or what came after.
Somebody needs to tell that to the adrenaline racing through my system, not to mention the fists clenched at my sides, craving the yielding of bones under them.
“Can’t answer me?” she demands with another laugh. “I’m not surprised. I guess Papa hasn’t scripted your responses to a situation like this.”
That’s the last time she’ll make a snide comment like that.
She didn’t expect me to take her by the throat. Her sharp gasp is a drug my system immediately hooks into.
I want more.
Fuck pretending.
Fuck the layers I’ve carefully wrapped around myself, the walls I’ve built.
This woman has rendered all of that useless. Some people need to see for themselves what happens when they push me too far.
“I have gone out of my way…” My fingers sink into her delicate flesh, stirring another soft gasp that starts under my palm and slips from between her parted lips.
“I’ve given you space. I’ve left you alone when other men would force you to do what they want, when they want, whenever they want.
And it isn’t enough. You lie to me, you hide things from me, you taunt me like I’m some kind of fucking joke. ”
She won’t back down. I feel the pulse pounding in her throat, but she refuses to cower. “Did you ever think to ask what I want?” she whispers.
“What would that be?” I ask.
Her eyes never leave mine as she tugs on the belt holding her robe closed. It falls open, and now I have to decide whether to let myself be distracted by the body I’ve only imagined until now.
“Let’s start here.” She slides the robe away, letting it fall over her shoulders and down her arms. My dick is straining against my zipper before I ever let my gaze move away from hers, so I can take in her beauty. And that’s the first word that comes to mind.
Full, perfect tits that beg me to test their weight. Rosy nipples, the perfect size for sucking. A flat stomach, a small waist that flares into wider hips. Smooth. Glistening.
Of course, my gaze keeps traveling lower, meaning my mouth goes dry at the sight of her bald pussy.
The tip of her pink clit is barely visible, but all it takes is that slight hint to unleash something dark and demanding deep inside.
Before this day is over, I will taste that clit. I will taste all of her.
“Next, we can move on to this.” Still staring up at me, she cups my straining bulge, making my knees weak when she starts to rub her palm over me.
“You keep talking about everything you’ve not done to me,” she whispers, licking her lips, driving me a little closer to insanity.
“What I want to know is, what’s stopping you?
Because I’ve seen the way you look at me.
I know the way you kiss me. I felt this against me when you made me come,” she adds, giving me a gentle squeeze that makes precum soak into my boxers.
It could be the blood leaving my brain and rushing south, but she makes a point. She is my wife. This is what we’re supposed to be doing, right? Fucking her isn’t the same as fucking her over or fucking up her life. This doesn’t have to mean anything more than what it is.
Finally, after considering what I want, I act on it.
A surge of satisfaction makes my fingers press against her throat, a little tighter than before, but all she does is bite her lip temptingly.
“On your knees,” I whisper, backing up to give her room while I unbuckle my belt.
Her half-lidded eyes are so fucking seductive, though I’m already there.
The seduction is complete. I’m tired of fighting this.
When I start to lower my pants and boxers, she shakes her head, swatting my hands away. “Let me,” she whispers, moving slowly, torturing me as she lowers the waistband inch by inch before finally letting my cock free from its cage.
That’s what I want to see. The widening of her eyes, the biting of her lip.
“That explains what I felt,” she murmurs, smirking up at me. “Big boy.”
“Think you can take it?” I ask, stroking myself in front of her face. “Can you handle all of this?”
“I can try.” God, who is this woman? This sexy temptress has been living under my roof and wearing a ring I put on her finger. I’ve been missing out.
I know that for a fact when she wraps her fingers around my shaft and guides me to her waiting mouth that it’s almost enough to make me blow here and now. “Easy does it,” I whisper, watching her tongue extend to flick the underside of my head.
Explosions of pure pleasure burst in my head like fireworks against a night sky. “Put it in your mouth,” I urge, one hand on the back of her head, fingers sinking into her damp hair. She moans, making me surge and thicken before she takes me inside her wet heat.
All I can do is close my eyes and let my head fall back, drowning in the friction from her tongue and the suction as she moves up and down slowly, deliberately.
Her hands slide up my thighs, then around to cup my ass, her nails digging into my flesh and taking me to the edge between pleasure and pain.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this place.
This is more than some quick fuck after a night out with some pretty, stranger with a willing mouth and a wet hole. This is a woman I’ve wanted on some level since the night I first set eyes on her. A woman I’m going to have to face after this.
There’s something about it that makes the whole thing hotter, more intense.
I let myself sink deeper, and the conflicting sensations wash over me.
“Suck my cock.” I grunt, moving my hips, fucking her face gently while she does most of the work.
She’s so beautiful, her head bobbing, her cheeks hollowing out when she increases the pressure.
But it’s when her eyes open and look up at me that I know it’s time to stop. “Easy, now,” I gasp, pulling back before it’s too late. “Get up. Bend over the bed.”
Her gaze lingers on mine for a beat before she rises gracefully, giving me a full-length shot of her exquisite body before she slowly turns, bending over the bed, her ass in the air.
Fucking hell, I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I could spend days, weeks feasting on this woman.
Her pussy is pink, swollen, the lips glistening with juice I can’t help but slide my finger over.
“Oh, yeah…” She moans, pushing back, tilting her hips to present herself to me. “Do that again.”