15. Chapter Fifteen Jade
Chapter Fifteen: Jade
I woke to the soft intrusion of morning light weaving through the curtains, stirring the shadows in my bedroom. Dante’s arm was a reassuring weight across my waist, his breath steady against the nape of my neck.
“Can I use your shower?” Dante’s voice, rough with sleep, broke the quiet.
“Sure,” I murmured, sitting up and stretching. As I shuffled to grab clothes, the crisp scent of my lavender body wash clung to him, a reminder of our closeness that seemed out of place in the daylight.
“Wait. Let me rephrase that. Can we use your shower?”
“What?”
“Come on,” Dante’s voice suddenly broke through the charged atmosphere, his hand slipping from my hip to grasp mine. “Let’s wash away the lab for a while.”
He led me toward the bathroom, and I followed, my mind still reeling from the intensity of our exchange the night before. The steam from the hot water filled the room, fogging up the mirror and creating an intimate cocoon that enveloped us as we stepped into the shower together.
“Can you do it again?” he asked, his voice low and husky as the water cascaded down over us, turning my skin sensitive to every touch.
“Squirt? I don’t know if I–”
“Shh, just relax,” he murmured before pushing me gently against the cool tile wall. His mouth found mine with a hunger that left no room for doubt or insecurity, and then he was descending, his lips trailing fire down my body until they reached the core of my desire.
The world outside the steamy enclosure faded to insignificance as Dante’s skilled tongue worked its magic, coaxing pleasure from me in waves that crashed over and over, leaving me breathless and clinging to him for support.
“God, I fucking love the way you taste,” he said. “I could eat you out for hours.”
“Are you always this forward?” I asked breathlessly, my fingers lacing through his wet hair.
“Only with you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips curving in a wicked grin before he was on me again, his tongue flicking and lapping around my clit, the sensation raw and overwhelming. I clung to him as the pressure built and the knot in my stomach tightened to an unbearable tension.
Just as I was about to unravel, Dante pulled away, standing up to his full height and positioning himself between my thighs. The sensation of him entering me was so electric that I gasped aloud, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Do you think I can make you squirt with just my cock?” he asked, his breath hot in my ear.
“Damn it, Dante,” I breathed out, my body responding fervently to his provocations. “You’re...superbly confident.”
“Only when it comes to making you feel good,” he countered, adjusting his pace and angling deeper into me. The intensity of every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. “Because making you come is my favorite thing.”
As Dante began to thrust in time with the pulsating water, he slid his hands up my chest and grasped my breasts, pinching the sensitive nipples through my wet clothes, causing me to moan as he did so. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked gently, rolling it between his teeth before releasing it to replace it with the other. Meanwhile, his hips kept moving in a rhythm that was both slow and steady, making me feel every inch of him inside me. The way he worked his cock against my G-spot sent shivers down my spine; it almost felt like he could read my mind.
The sensation of Dante’s mouth on my breasts combined with his relentless thrusting sent me spiraling into sensory overload. He continued to stroke my G-spot with his cock, the rhythm unyielding, until I was shaking with the intensity of it.
“Fuck, Jade,” he groaned as he drove into me. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”
His words echoed in the steam-filled room, punctuated by the rhythmic slapping of our bodies coming together. The sensual assault of his words, his touch, and his unwavering gaze sent me teetering on the brink of ecstasy.
“Dante,” I whimpered unsteadily, my legs beginning to quiver as the pressure built impossibly within me.
“Hold on for me, Jade,” he encouraged, his voice raw with need. “I want to feel you come around me.”
The feeling was too much—the pleasure too intense—as a wave of desire roared through me. With a final thrust from Dante, I surrendered to the building crescendo inside me. The world ceased to exist beyond the pulsating pleasure that consumed me. Dante’s name ripped from my throat as I came hard around him.
“Fuck, Jade!” Dante growled, his movements becoming erratic as he succumbed to his own climax. His body shuddered against mine as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. His fingers dug into my hips, anchoring himself to me as he succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he rasped, his breath hot against the crook of my neck as he slowly pulled out of me. We stood there for a moment, catching our breaths, the steaming water washing away the remnants of our passion.
As Dante wrapped his arms around me and held me close against his chest, I felt something akin to peace settle over me. It was unfamiliar territory—raw and vulnerable—but not entirely unwelcome. I let myself relax into his embrace, my head resting on his broad shoulder.
“But you are hungry, right? Let’s go get that breakfast. I can’t just leave off eating your pussy, no matter how much I want to.”
“Dante,” I admonished lightly, shaking my head at his audacity. But beneath the reprimand, there was no hiding the soft smile that curved at the corner of my mouth. Dante’s forthrightness was as refreshing as it was intimidating.
“Come on, Doc,” he teased, a twinkle in his eyes as he released me from his embrace and turned off the water. “Let’s get dressed.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Some time later, we emerged from the shower, wrapped in towels and silent in the aftermath of our shared surrender. Dante suggested coffee, and I agreed, eager to hold onto the normalcy of the gesture.
The café was nice and not too far from my house. As we walked into the café, the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the subtle hint of baking pastries hit me, instantly making me feel warm and comfortable. Dante held the door open for me, his hand lightly touching the small of my back as he ushered me inside.
I scanned the cozy space, taking in the rustic wooden tables and the chalkboard menu behind the counter that offered a variety of breakfast options. Dante guided me towards a corner booth that offered some privacy from the rest of the patrons. I slipped onto the plush seat, looking across at Dante who was now shedding off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.
We settled into a booth, the warmth of the coffee mug seeping into my hands as I took a sip. It was peaceful, comfortable—until I noticed Dante’s gaze shift to a man entering the café.
The air around us seemed to thicken, charged with an invisible current that set my nerves on edge. Their exchange was brief, their words too low for me to catch, but the tension between them was unmistakable. Dante’s posture was relaxed, but there was a hardness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
“Friend of yours?” I ventured when the man left, trying to keep my tone light despite the unease coiling in my gut.
“Something like that,” Dante replied, his attention returning to me. He offered a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Jade. Old business.”
I wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his reassurance, but the encounter had peeled back another layer of the life Dante led—a life that was now inching its way into mine, whether I was ready for it or not.
“Old business that comes with threats?” I pressed, unable to ignore the flicker of danger that had passed between them. “Dante, what aren’t you telling me?”
He reached across the table, his hand covering mine in a gesture meant to soothe. “Jade, look at me,” he said firmly, and I met his intense gaze. “Whatever happens, I’ve got it under control. You have my word.”
His assurance should have eased my mind, but instead, it was like a patch over a dam about to burst. I could sense the floodwaters rising behind his calm facade. And though I wanted to trust him, to lean into the safety he offered, doubt gnawed at me.
“Okay,” I whispered, tucking away my questions for now.
The remainder of our coffee was spent in an uneasy silence. Dante, a brooding statue beside me, seemed lost in thought, his gaze occasionally flicking to the café‘s entrance. I felt it then—the protective warmth radiating from him—as he shifted in his seat, angling his body ever so slightly in front of mine, forming a subtle barrier between me and any potential threats that might walk through the door.
It was…weird to think about threats. I didn’t want to, but he was clearly on edge.
“Everything okay?” I asked quietly, tracing the rim of my now cold coffee cup.
“Always,” he replied, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his words.
I wanted to push, to pry open the vault of secrets I knew he carried with him, but fear held me back. Fear of what lay hidden there, fear of how it might change us—change me.
We left the café, stepping out into the crisp air that did nothing to clear the fog in my head. Dante’s world, a world I had only glimpsed the edges of, was creeping slowly into mine, bringing shadows I hadn’t anticipated when I fell into his bed—or his arms.
As we walked, his presence was as commanding as ever, yet I couldn’t ignore the growing doubts swirling within me. With each step, I felt the tug-of-war between the affection I had for Dante and the fear of the unknown elements he was involved with. How could I reconcile the man whose touch set my skin ablaze with the man who dealt in whispered threats and concealed weapons?
“Jade,” he said, breaking through my thoughts as we stopped at the curb waiting for the light to change. “You’re quiet. Talk to me.”
I looked up at him, at the concern etched in the lines around his eyes, and wondered how deep I was willing to dive into the tumultuous waters of Dante Moretti. How much of myself was I prepared to risk on a man bound by blood to a life that was worlds away from my own safe, structured reality?
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just thinking about work.” But even as the words left my lips, I knew that sooner or later, I would have to face the truth—and Dante would have to face me.
I just needed to gather my courage…because I wasn’t going to accuse him of something I wasn’t sure of.
We didn’t really talk until we got back to my place. He pressed a soft kiss against my forehead as we stood outside my apartment.
“Stay safe,” Dante’s voice was a low rumble, the warmth of his breath brushing my cheek as we stood outside the door to my apartment. He pulled me into him, his arms wrapping around my frame with a possessiveness that both comforted and alarmed me.
I leaned into the safety of his hold, but the tremor in my heart wasn’t just from the cold. “I will,” I murmured, feeling the weight of our separate worlds on my shoulders.
He drew back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give. “I’ll check in later.” His thumb grazed my jawline, and I wondered if he felt the quake of my resolve.
“Okay,” was all I managed, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
Dante leaned down, his lips claiming mine in a kiss that spoke of promises and goodbyes. It lingered, deep and thorough, leaving me breathless when he finally stepped back. With a final nod, he turned and walked away, his figure blending seamlessly into the city’s heartbeat.
I watched him go until the distance swallowed him whole, then turned to face the solitude of my apartment. Inside, the quiet was deafening. I shed my coat and sunk onto the couch, replaying the morning’s revelations and the unsettling encounter that had preceded this farewell.
The memory of how his touch unraveled me the night before washed over me in waves of heat and confusion. How he made me lose control, surrender to sensations I didn’t know I craved, left me yearning for more despite the fear gnawing at my mind.
I needed answers. I needed to understand what being with Dante truly meant—for me, for my future. Resolute, I decided our next meeting wouldn’t be shrouded in uncertainty or lost in the haze of desire. No, I would confront him, demand transparency about his life, his loyalties, and where I fit amidst the chaos he embodied.
But as I paced the confines of my apartment, my thoughts were a tangled dance of logic and emotion. The safe, predictable parameters of my scientific world seemed galaxies away from Dante’s turbulent realm, yet here I was, straddling the line between order and chaos. There was something about him, an inexplicable pull that defied my rational mind and whispered promises of passion and depth.
“Focus on what you can control,” I murmured to myself, the scientist in me trying to formulate a hypothesis for a future with a man whose life was a constant variable. Maybe it was possible to find equilibrium within the disarray, to be part of his universe without losing myself in its darkness.
My hands found their way to the drawer of my bedside table, fingers wrapping around the silicone form that had become a tangible memory of Dante’s touch. It was as if every nerve ending remembered him, craved his presence. With a deep breath, I let go of my reservations and allowed my body to sink into the bed, the cool sheets contrasting with the heat building within me.
I unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs along with the fabric of my underwear. Lying there, exposed and alone, I closed my eyes, letting the fantasy of Dante wash over me. His touch was a ghostly sensation against my skin, his breath a phantom whisper in my ear. I shivered at the thought of him - no, the memory of him – of us entwined in the throes of passion.
I brought the silicone form close to me, its cold, lifeless touch a stark contrast to Dante’s warmth, to his living, breathing reality. But as I let it explore my body’s landscape, it began to mimic his touch - tentative at first, then confident, insistent. My breath hitched as a wave of pleasure rolled through me.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations as I guided the dildo with a steady hand, each movement a reflection of last night’s ecstasy. In my mind’s eye, it was Dante’s hands exploring me, his body pressed against mine. My breath quickened as I lost myself in the fantasy, in the connection that bound us together despite the messiness of our worlds colliding. I pressed the dildo inside of me as I turned the vibration on bringing me closer to the edge.
With each thrust, my thoughts were consumed by him. His scent filled my nostrils; his voice echoed in my ears, whispering sweet words of longing and lust. It was as if Dante was here with me - guiding the movements, coaxing pleasure from every inch of my body. The mere thought was enough to drive me over the edge.
“God, Dante,” I gasped out, the intensity of my longing pushing me closer to the edge.
I rode the wave of pleasure, letting it sweep me under until my body went limp with satisfaction. It wasn’t real; it was a pale imitation of what I had experienced in Dante’s arms, but it was enough to soothe the edge of my longing.
As the last echo of my climax washed over me, I lay there panting, hand still gripping the silicone as if it was my lifeline to sanity. Strands of hair stuck to my forehead, plastered by sweat and spent passion. But even in the post-coital haze, I was aware of his absence—aware that despite the orgasmic release, I felt hollow.
And then I knew that no matter what the fuck the rest of his life was like, I was definitely going to reach out.