33. Cassie
CASSIE
I ’ve never worn something this… dangerous.
The negligee clings to me, sheer black lace and silk that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Beneath it? Tight little black thong, garters hugging my thighs, heels that make my legs look a mile long, and a bra that’s one wrong move from spilling my tits straight into his hands.
Tina convinced me. Dragged me into that boutique this morning, smirking like she already knew exactly how tonight would end.
I check the mirror one more time, nerves crackling under my skin, heat pooling low in my belly. He’s mine now. Fully. Publicly. Legally, soon. And tonight? He’ll know exactly what he’s about to marry.
The door clicks. I hear him in the bathroom—water shutting off, the quiet hum of him moving around.
I slide into bed, propping myself up against the pillows, arching my back just enough to push my tits up, angling my hips, the garters stretched tight along my thighs.
When he steps out, towel slung low on his hips, hair damp, water droplets sliding down the ridges of his abdomen—I remember who I did this for.
He stops dead. An actual whistle escapes his mouth, low and wrecked. His eyes drag over every inch of me—slow, hungry, dark with pure fucking sin.
“Jesus Christ, Cass. Look at you.”
“Too much?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy.
“Never,” he whistles again.
His towel hits the floor, forgotten, his body carved from shadows and ink, muscles flexing as he stalks toward the bed like a man who’s about to destroy everything in his way. But he doesn’t move; he just keeps staring at me like I’m some mirage.
I swallow hard. “You gonna stand there all night or?—”
I don’t finish because he’s already moving, crossing the room in three long strides, crawling onto the bed like a predator who’s spotted prey. The mattress dips under his weight, and then he’s over me, caging me in with those tattooed arms, droplets of water falling from his hair onto my chest.
“Dressed up for me?” His voice drops, low and dangerous, eyes locked on the garters, the lace, and the swell of my tits straining against barely-there silk.
My pulse skips. “No, for the mailman,” I quip, nerves making me sarcastic. “Yes, for you, idiot. Tina talked me into it.”
His mouth curves, wicked, feral. “Remind me to thank my sister, will you?”
He laughs then and kisses me like he kills. Leaving nothing behind. With his all. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming me, one hand sliding up to cup my jaw. He tastes fresh and sweet, and I arch into him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my mouth, his hand sliding down my neck, over my collarbone, dipping between my breasts. “Been thinking about you all day. In that meeting. With those men. All I could think about was getting home to this.”
His fingers trace the edge of the lace, teasing, barely touching where I need him most. I whimper, pushing into his hand, shameless and hungry.
He moves down my body, leaving a trail of biting kisses along my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts.
When he reaches the lace barely covering my nipple, a wicked smirk curves his mouth like he already owns me.
Then? He bites down, grabbing the lace between his teeth, tugging hard to see more.
The sound that escapes me is pure wreckage—a broken gasp tangled with a moan, my body arching, breath stuttering as cool air hits bare skin.
The lace scrapes over my sensitive nipple, friction sharp, teasing, and the way he watches me, tracking every reaction like I’m prey begging to be devoured—undoes me completely.
“These tits,” he growls while licking a slow circle around my nipple through the lace. “Fucking perfect.”
He shoves the cups down roughly, impatient, freeing my breasts completely. The cool air hits my bare skin, goosebumps racing across me.
He sucks one nipple deep between his lips, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make my back arch, my thighs clench.
His other hand palms my other breast, rough, possessive, squeezing hard like he’s reminding me exactly who I belong to.
“Please,” I beg, tugging at his hair, needing more.
He lifts his head, eyes glittering with dark promise. “Turn over.”
I hesitate, just for a second, and his eyebrow arches. “Trust me, Cass.”
Fuck yes, I do.
I roll onto my stomach, the silk of the negligee sliding up to my waist as I move, baring myself completely for him.
His hands find my hips, lifting me slightly.
“Christ, look at you,” he murmurs, his palm sliding over the curve of my ass, fingers hooking in the string of the thong. “This ass is gonna be the death of me.”
He moves lower. Then his hands are on my thighs, pushing them apart. I bury my face in the pillow, embarrassed at how desperate I already feel.
His fingers trace the garters, sliding down to where they clip to my stockings. “These are nice,” he whispers. “But they’re in my way.”
He grips my ankle, dragging me to the edge of the bed in one sharp pull, his eyes blazing.
“You look like a fucking sin,” he growls, palm skimming up my calf, over the garter. “My sin.”
I shudder under his touch, my thighs parting without thought, his hand sliding higher, teasing the lace of my thong.
“You know what this does to me?” His fingers hook under the fabric, tugging it down, slow, torturous. I lift my hips to help, and then it’s gone, tossed somewhere across the room. “This tight little body wrapped up just for me… legs spread, tits out, all fucking mine to ruin.”
“Dante,” I breathe, turning my head to look back at him. “Stop teasing.”
His smile is pure wickedness. “But you’re so pretty when you beg.”
I bite my lip, heat pulsing low in my belly.
He leans in over me, lips ghosting over my ear.
“I’m gonna wreck you, baby,” he whispers, voice pure filth, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing my already soaked folds. “Tease me like that, you better be ready to pay for it.”
I arch into his touch, wrecked already, and he smirks, fingers stroking me slowly, dark eyes heavy with possession.
“Look how wet you are,” he snarls, teasing my entrance. “Fucking dripping for me, all dressed up like a goddess.”
The words hit low, hot, and filthy, making my thighs shake.
His hands shove my thighs wider, spreading me open. His hot breath hits my pussy, and it has my hips twitching before he even touches me.
“Gonna taste your cunt now,” he growls. “Been thinking about this pussy all fucking day.”
The first swipe of his tongue nearly breaks me—a long, slow, devastating drag from my clit down.
My hands fist the sheets, breath punching out of me, legs shaking with the effort of staying still.
“So fucking wet,” he groans. “Every damn time… always soaked for me.”
Then he dives in.
No teasing.
No patience.
Just his mouth devouring me, tongue circling my clit, flicking, sucking, pressing flat until I’m writhing, hips grinding against his face, chasing every filthy stroke.
One hand anchors me, gripping my hip hard, holding me wide open, helpless under his mouth. The other slides down, two fingers pushing deep inside me, stretching me, working me in rhythm with his tongue.
“Dante—fuck,” I choke out, vision blurring as he curls his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside that makes my whole body pulse.
The pressure coils fast, dangerous, heat building low in my belly, my walls fluttering around him as his tongue never lets up.
Relentless.
Brutal.
Perfect.
“Just like that,” he rasps against my soaked skin. “Come for me, Cass. I want every drop.”
His words break me.
I shatter around him, crying out, my body locking down, hips bucking, his mouth locked to my clit, his fingers still working me through it, not stopping, not letting up, dragging every last pulse of pleasure out of me until I’m a trembling, wrecked mess.
Finally, he pulls away, and I collapse onto the mattress like my bones forgot how to function.
But he’s not fucking done.
He flips me over and pushes my legs apart again, sliding between them, cock hard, heavy, leaking against my thigh.
His eyes darken, full of hunger and pure fucking ownership.
“Round two,” he snarls, lining himself up. “And I’m not playing fair.”
His face is slick with my arousal, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks fucking feral, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Fuck, Dante.” I part my legs for him.
“You tease me like that in my bed?” He snarls, voice pure filth, grinding against me. “Wearing this little fucking outfit—thinking I’d take it slow?”
“Take it however you want,” I pant, my eyes locked to his as I begin to grind him right back.
“Oh, I will,” he promises, lining himself up, hands sliding around my neck—not squeezing, just holding, positioning me in place like I belong to him.
I love it. Every dangerous, filthy, possessive inch of him.
Then, he leans down, taking the edge of my bra between his teeth again, this time tugging to tear until I’m completely naked.
“Oops,” he smirks, not looking sorry at all.
“That was expensive,” I protest weakly.
“I’ll buy you ten more,” he growls, lowering his head to capture one nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make me gasp. “Then tear those off, too.”
His cock presses against my thigh, hard and heavy, and I try to shove into it. I need more; can’t he see?
“Lucky for you, Cass. I don’t have that much restraint,” he whispers against my nipple before reaching up to look me in the eye. His hands come to frame my face, and his mouth crashes to mine, devouring me as he thrusts inside, hard, deep, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal move.
I cry out, clutching the bed railing, his pace savage, hips pounding into me so hard the mattress jolts beneath us.
“Fucking made for me,” he growls against my mouth, snapping his hips, hands holding me in place, keeping me wide, helpless, ruined. “Tight little pussy taking all of me… fuck, Cassie.”
I whimper, holding the rails, hips rolling up to meet every thrust, body shattering again with how deep he hits, how brutal, how perfect.
“Legs up,” he commands, gripping my thighs, spreading me wide, the angle wrecking me as he pounds into me harder, deeper, his body owning mine, his cock stretching me, filling me.
“Mine,” he snarls, voice ragged, hips slamming into me, the headboard rattling, my orgasm building sharp and fast. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I cry, walls clenching, the heat coiling tight, my body seconds from breaking. “God—always yours.”
I shatter, my body locking around him, my climax crashing over me, wild and brutal as he groans my name, hips driving deep, spilling inside me, filling me, every muscle tight as he comes undone.
We collapse together, and when we do, his mouth trails along my jaw, my pulse still racing.
We stay like that for a moment, connected, breathing hard, his weight a comforting pressure above me. Then he rolls to the side, taking me with him, keeping us joined for as long as possible.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip.
“Better than okay.” I sigh, curling into his warmth. “Though I’m pretty sure you destroyed a few hundred dollars’ worth of lingerie.”
He laughs. “Worth every penny.”
We lie there for a while, heartbeats slowing, sweat cooling on our skin. His fingers tangle in my hair, gentle now, a stark contrast to the man who just fucked me senseless.
Then he shifts slightly, reaching over to the nightstand drawer. “Got something for you.”
I prop myself up on one elbow, curious. “If it’s another round, I might need a minute.”
His smile is soft, almost shy—an expression I’ve rarely seen on that dangerous face. “Not that. Though I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
He pulls out a small velvet box. My heart stops, then kicks into overdrive.
“Dante—”
“I said I’d get you a ring,” he interrupts, pushing the box toward me. “Let’s do this right.”
I blink down at it, still breathless, still ruined.
“Open it,” he demands.
I flip the lid.
Holy shit.
A diamond two times the size of my ego gleams under the low light, massive, blinding, unapologetically insane.
“Dante…”
“Let’s do this right,” he murmurs, sliding the ring onto my finger, sealing the deal.
And I know—there’s no walking away from him now.
I wouldn't want to, anyway.