7. Adalina
Chapter 7
Adalina
I can only describe Dante’s bedroom as opulent. It’s the kind of room you see on a Pinterest board. The walls are a deep, rich shade of forest green, accented with intricate crown molding that adds an air of elegance to the space. Each step on the cherry hardwood floors creates a satisfying, polished sound. Floor-to-ceiling curtains in a dark beige hue are pulled back across one wall, revealing a stunning view of the grounds below.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Whispers of breath tickle my ear as Dante’s arms envelope me from behind, his hands resting gently on my waist. His embrace is warm and secure, like a shield against the world. It’s an intimate gesture more suited to lovers than strangers, but I don’t push him away.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Good enough that you’ll skip your 3 am appointment?” His words dance across my neck, sending shivers down my spine and causing every hair on my body to stand at attention. The sensation is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, making me feel alive and vulnerable all at once.
I wish I could say yes, but that would open a whole new can of worms. “Not likely. But fuck me up against that window, and we’ll see if it changes my mind.”
Dante’s hands move with practiced precision. He grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head while guiding me forward. Every step brings us closer to the window. I watch the trees and open spaces bathed in moonlight as he crouches behind me, sliding my panties down my thighs and helping me step out of them. I stand before the window naked except for my heels. Dante grabs my hips and holds me in place while pressing a kiss to the small of my back. “You’re already full of my cum, baby girl.”
A cold sense of dread settles in my stomach as I make a mental note for myself: buy Plan B ASAP . My father’s strict rules forbid me from taking birth control, and the thought of facing his wrath if I were to get pregnant is enough to make me physically ill. If I were to discover in six weeks that I am carrying a child, the consequences would be catastrophic.
“Double stuff me like an Oreo, Dante. Or I’ll go ask your bodyguard to do it.”
His hand curls around my hip with possessive intent. “You’ve got a big mouth for a little girl.”
“I don’t put up with bullshit,” I correct him. “Life’s too short or something equally inspirational.”
I am captivated by the sight of him as he undresses gracefully in front of the window. As he rises to his feet, every muscle seems to ripple and flex under his skin with each movement. He methodically removes each article of clothing and carefully drapes them over the back of a nearby chair, revealing more of his sculpted physique with every piece. My eyes roam over his chiseled chest and toned arms, taking note of every perfect curve and line. He stands before me like a work of art, crafted flawlessly from head to toe.
Dante’s skin is a rich, golden olive, kissed by the sun and bearing tan lines that mark his active lifestyle. Ink adorns his wrist, a vibrant display of art that dances its way up toward his elbow. I trace the intricate design with my eyes, a delicate interweaving of skulls and flowers, each with a name that holds a special meaning to him. “Girlfriend?” I ask.
He pauses in his ministrations, almost completely undressed. As he follows my line of sight, he smiles. “Sister,” Dante explains. “I also have my brothers’ names. Family is important to me.” He raises his arm and shows off the back of the tattoo. Sure enough, four more names are written in beautiful script.
“Big family,” I comment. “That’s what, five kids?”
“Average for an Italian family. Certainly not small by any means, but not the largest I’m familiar with.”
I have three half-sisters, but our relationship is non-existent. My father separated from their mothers and sent them into hiding, but they are out there somewhere. Hopefully, they grew up in a home where they felt safe.
A wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I bring my hand up to my mouth, shielding a yawn from Dante. My eyelids suddenly feel heavy, and my limbs ache with weariness, as if I have been battling against the tide for hours. The world seems to slow down around me as my body begs for rest, but I push through, determined to keep going despite the overwhelming urge to give in.
“Tired?” He asks with a rueful smile.
“No.” I should go home. I need to face the consequences of my actions while they’re still manageable. The later it gets, the angrier my father will be. He’s threatened to cripple me before, but he’s never done it. If I stay out all night, who knows? Tonight might be the night he follows through with his threat.
Dante grabs me by the elbow and propels me forward, leading me to his bed. My feet feel weightless as we move across the cool, soft floor. He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed, the plush mattress sinking slightly under my weight. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere as he gazes at me intensely. “Are you okay?”
I’m losing my edge. The hard, protective shell I use to keep others out is fraying beneath the heavy weight of exhaustion.
In a last-ditch effort to stay true to myself, I scoot backward on the bed and invite him forward. “Fuck me,” I slur, then curse myself for sounding like a drunkard.
Dante climbs on top of me, arms perched on either side of my head. “Adalina,” he says firmly, “you’re going to fall asleep soon.”
I wrap my hand around his throbbing member, pulling him closer. My body tingles with anticipation as I tease his tip with my slick desire. “I just want you inside me.”
He presses his forehead against mine, forcing his way past my clenched muscles and deep into my core. Every inch of him stretches me to my limits, but I crave the fullness. He stays still, savoring the sensation of being inside me.
“I could do this all night,” he whispers. “If you were keeping my dick warm from dusk til dawn, I’d never have another sleepless night.”
Despite my determination to stay awake, a comforting warmth spreads through my body, tempting me to surrender to sleep. A heavy fatigue weighs down my eyelids, making it difficult to keep them open against the soothing pull of slumber. My body feels like it’s begging for rest after a long day. I try to resist, but the weariness is overwhelming, and I can feel myself slipping into peaceful oblivion.
“That’s right, gorgeous. Close your eyes.” Dante lulls me to sleep with comforting words of affirmation. I can’t even stifle my yawn because my muscles no longer work. “I was afraid you hadn’t drunk enough of the water for the sleeping pills to take effect.”
Even his admission isn’t enough to keep me awake. I try to fight the oncoming tidal wave of sleep but find that I can’t open my mouth to argue.
“I’m going to take care of you now. You’ll never have to worry about Tommaso Martinelli ever again.”
It’s the last thing I hear before the world goes dark, and I fall into a fitful slumber, complete with Dante’s member still buried inside me.