14. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Dante
Hours later, after reviewing intelligence and issuing commands to my network across Europe, I seek her out.
The sun has set, stars emerging in a sky unspoiled by city lights. I find her on the terrace where I left her, now wrapped in a light shawl against the evening chill.
She doesn't turn as I approach, her gaze fixed on the valley below.
"It's strange," she says softly. "I've spent a lifetime being paraded through properties like this. Showcased at my father's side at business gatherings disguised as social events. Yet I never really saw them."
She turns to face me, moonlight silvering her features.
"The strategic positioning on high ground. The limited access roads. The clear sight lines. The reinforced entry points. It's all planned, isn't it? Every tiny detail of our world?"
A laugh escapes me, genuine amusement warming my chest.
"You know… most women would notice the sunset, the flowers, the architecture."
"I'm not most women," she replies simply.
"No," I agree, reaching to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You're becoming something far more dangerous."
Her eyes hold mine, and before those pink lips move to respond, I close the distance between us, claiming her mouth with mine.
Unlike the violent possession in the chateau alcove, this kiss holds a different quality. Still demanding, still dominant, but with an edge of something I refuse to name.
Her hands move to my chest, feeling the thundering of my heart beneath her fingertips.
"Dante," she whispers, my name a question on her lips.
Instead of answering, I lift her into my arms, carrying her through the terrace doors to the waiting bed. Her body fits against mine perfectly, her arms around my neck neither resisting nor submitting.
I lay her against the sheets, standing back to simply look at her. In the dim light, with her hair spread across the pillows, she appears both vulnerable and powerful.
A contradiction that mirrors my own conflicted desires for what I see in this woman.
"What happens now?" she asks, voice steady despite the heat in her gaze.
"Now," I say, removing my watch with deliberate slowness, "we finish what began in Paris."
I strip methodically, watching her watch me. I catch the flare of desire in her eyes as my chest is revealed, the quick intake of breath as I step out of my trousers. When I stand naked before her, my arousal evident and unashamed, her tongue darts out to wet her lips in unconscious invitation.
"Your turn," I command.
She rises to her knees on the bed, holding my gaze as she reaches for the zipper of her dress. The fabric slides from her shoulders with tantalizing slowness, revealing inch by inch of pale skin I've come to crave.
When she's as bare as I am, I join her on the bed, my larger frame caging her against the mattress.
My hands explore her soft skin. The curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip.
"Mine," I murmur against her throat, teeth scraping lightly over her racing pulse.
"Prove it," she challenges, nails dragging down my back with just enough pressure to border on the pain that makes me feel alive.
The invitation ignites something primal within me.
I capture her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other slides between her thighs, sinking into her pussy, finding her already wet and ready for me.
"Is this what you want?" I ask, fingers escaping to circle her clit. "To be claimed by a monster? To be fucked until you can't remember your name, only mine?"
Her hips arch into my touch, seeking more. "I want you to stop talking and show me what you want."
I grip my cock, a brutal, punishing hold, stroking from base to tip. Francesca's eyes follow the movement, her breath hitching as she watches me struggle to maintain my own desire.
Her gaze is like a flame on my skin. I can see the pulse in her neck, fluttering like a trapped bird.
"Are you ready, princess?" My voice is barely human. "Ready to lose this virginity your family guarded so fiercely? Ready to bleed for me, like I'd bleed for you?"
Her eyes flick up to mine, her pupils blown wide with a mix of fear and lust. She licks her lips, a nervous gesture that sends a jolt straight to my balls.
Then, she nods.
"Yes," she whispers, her voice barely audible yet filled with resolve.
She reaches for me, her hands trembling slightly as they grip my shoulders. Her touch is electric, igniting a firestorm within me.
I let her pull me down, my body covering hers on the bed. Her nails dig into my muscles, a sweet pain that only serves to heighten my arousal.
I can feel the heat of her pussy against my cock, the dampness of her arousal coating my tip. She's ready, so fucking ready.
But I need to hear it again. I need her to beg.
"Tell me what you want, Francesca," I demand, my voice a harsh rasp against her ear. "Tell me you want this. Want me."
She shivers beneath me, her body arching up to press more firmly against mine. Her eyes meet mine, unflinching, unafraid.
"I want this, Dante," she says, her voice steady and sure. "I want you to take me. Make me yours... forever. "
I fist my cock, dragging the swollen head through the slick heat of her virgin entrance, feeling her trembling beneath me. The knowledge that no man has touched her here, that I'm the first to claim this untouched part of her, sends a savage bolt of possessive pleasure ripping through my chest.
"Look at me," I growl, my voice rough, edged with hunger. I don’t move until her golden eyes lock with mine. "I want to see your face as I take what's mine."
With a brutal thrust, I push past the final barrier, tearing a gasp from her throat, her nails digging into my shoulders as her body struggles to take me.
I hold there, buried deep in her pussy, every muscle in my body straining for control, feeling the fierce, wet clutch of her around me making the task damn near impossible.
"Breathe," I murmur against her lips, my voice a low, ragged whisper, raw with a tenderness I didn’t know I possessed. "That's it. Take all of me, princess."
Slowly, agonizingly, her body softens beneath mine, surrendering to the invasion. When she shifts her hips, I start to move again. Long, slow strokes that make her whimper, each one a silent demand for more.
"That's it," I grunt, watching my cock disappear in her impossibly tight pussy. "Such a good girl, for me. Fuck …"
"Dante," she moans, my name breaking from her like a prayer, desperate and holy. " More ."
With a sneering smile, I grip her hip and give it to her.
Harder, deeper, until she's writhing under me, her legs locking around my waist, her body meeting mine stroke for brutal stroke. Every thrust feels like a brand, scorching us together, sealing something dark and eternal into our bones.
I reach between us, gently stroking her clit with my thumb, watching her face melt on the mattress as I slide against her walls and rub her bundle all at the same time.
Her climax hits. It's a violent, breathtaking thing—her cunt spasming around me, milking me with greedy, pulsing waves.
"Fuck," I grunt, feeling her tightness grip my cock. "Yes, so needy. Such a perfect little pussy."
I follow her grip on me with a raw, broken shout of her name, spilling into her with a force that leaves me shaking, emptied, claimed .
I don’t pull away. I cage her against me, feeling the frantic beat of her heart as she collapses against my chest, our bodies tangled and damp, her scent marking my skin like a brand.
The silence after is sacred.
I’ve taken women before… used them and easily forgotten them.
But this?
This feels like a seismic shift inside me, a tectonic fracture reshaping my entire world.
As the moonlight washes over her bare skin and mine, I accept the truth I’ve tried to drown since the night she pulled a blade on me:
This woman was never meant to be a possession.
She was meant to be my fucking queen.