5. Gemma #2
Dante crawls back onto the bed, positioning himself between my spread legs.
He wraps my knees over his forearms, opening me as wide as humanly possible.
I am already slick, my body humming with the aftershocks of my climax, but looking at his arousal brings a fresh wave of wetness pooling between my lips.
He leans forward, bracing his weight on his tattooed arms. The tip of his cock brushes against my slick entrance. My wet core clenches instantly in anticipation of his heat. He is so hot, so incredibly solid.
Dante does not speak. He stares into my eyes, holding my gaze captive as he slowly, agonizingly pushes the broad head of his cock past my tight entrance.
I gasp, the sound ripping out of me. The stretch is intense. My walls pull taut around his girth. Dante groans, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against my chest. His jaw locks tightly. He is fighting a battle for control, trying not to simply plunge inside and break me in half.
"You are so damn tight," he forces out through clenched teeth. "Fuck, Gemma. So sweet."
"More," I beg, digging my heels into the back of his thighs. "Dante, please. Fill me."
That is all the invitation he needs. Dante drives his hips forward, burying his cock all the way to the hilt in one smooth, powerful thrust.
I cry out, my head throwing back against the mattress.
The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming.
He stretches my inner walls to their limit, hitting deep spots I did not even know existed.
The pain is a fleeting, tiny prick, swallowed by a crushing wave of pleasure.
We are locked together. The cold, abandoned hotel vanishes.
The threat of the Bellantis outside fades to static. There is only Dante.
He holds perfectly still for a long moment, buried deep inside my core.
His chest heaves against my breasts. Sweat beads on his forehead, rolling down his temple into his dark beard.
He is letting my body adjust to his enormous size, letting my tight walls stretch and map the shape of him.
The feral possessiveness in his gaze softens just a fraction, replaced by awe.
"I have you," he breathes out, his cheek pressed to mine. "You hear me, Gemma? You're mine now. I don't care about the food truck. I don't care about the war outside this room. You belong to me."
"I belong to me," I manage to gasp out, my sassy defiance flaring up even now. "But I'll let you borrow me for the night."
Dante chuckles, a wicked, rumbling sound that vibrates his cock deep inside my pussy. "We'll see about that."
He slowly pulls back, dragging his slick length out until only the broad tip remains inside my entrance. The friction is incredible. Then, he slams his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt once again. The slap of his thighs against my wet skin echoes loudly.
I moan, my nails raking down his heavily tattooed back.
The rhythm he sets is punishing and precise.
Dante thrusts into me with a relentless, driving pace, using his weight to leverage himself deeper with every stroke.
My body absorbs the shock of each thrust. He hits my deepest spot repeatedly, the friction setting a raging fire low in my belly.
My slick wetness coats his shaft, making a wet, obscene slapping sound that fills the dusty room.
"Fuck," Dante curses, his control visibly fracturing. "Gemma. You feel so fucking good. I can't get deep enough."
He slides his arms under my waist, lifting my hips off the mattress.
The new angle changes everything. His next thrust bottoms out inside my core, hitting my cervix directly.
A blinding flash of pleasure explodes behind my eyes.
I scream his name, wrapping my long legs tight around his waist, locking him flush against me.
He is mine too.
"Yes," I sob, surrendering to the perfection of his body. "Dante, harder. Please."
He obliges with terrifying force. Dante becomes a machine of pure, carnal dominance.
He grinds his hips against mine, burying his cock so deep I can feel the weight of his balls slapping against my wet entrance.
He drags his open mouth down my neck, sinking his teeth into my collarbone.
A sharp, claiming sting. The pain and pleasure blur into a chaotic, messy frenzy.
I am untethered. My independence, my tough exterior, my need to control my own destiny—it all shatters under the weight of this mafia enforcer's relentless thrusts.
The heat building in my core tightens into a hard, aching knot.
Every time he pulls back, my tight walls clench around his slick shaft, begging him to return.
Every time he slams deep, the knot winds tighter.
The frantic hitch in my breathing must give me away, because his thrusts immediately turn harder, faster.
He slips his hand between our bodies, his rough thumb finding my swollen clit. He presses down firmly, dragging his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves while simultaneously burying his cock to the hilt.
The dual stimulation is overwhelming. My vision goes white. A terrifying orgasm rips through my body. I scream, my voice tearing through the dead silence of the fourteenth floor. My tight walls clench violently around Dante's cock, milking his length with uncontrollable spasms.
Dante roars my name. He abandons all restraint, gripping my hips tight enough to leave dark bruises.
He pounds into my violently clenching pussy with three rapid thrusts.
On the final drive, he buries himself flush against me and freezes.
His frame locks up rigidly. A deep, guttural groan tears out of his chest as his own climax crashes through him.
Hot, seed spills deep inside me. He fills me with intense, pulsing waves of heat.
We stay locked together, frozen in the aftermath. Dante's chest crushes my breasts as he pants for oxygen. My legs remain tangled around his waist, refusing to let him pull away. The hot, sticky mess of our combined slick and his seed coats my inner thighs.
The silence of the abandoned Grand Continental returns, wrapping around us like a blanket.
The smell of dust and rotting velvet mixes with the pungent scent of sex and sweat.
Dante slowly lowers his weight, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
His rough beard scratches my sensitive skin.
I run my fingers through his short, dark hair, feeling the sweat dampening the strands.
"I told you," he whispers against my collarbone, his voice hoarse. "You're mine. No one else will ever touch you, Gemma. I'll burn the entire city of Chicago to the ground before I let anyone take you from me."
I do not argue with him this time. The certainty in his voice terrifies me, but the dark, possessive warmth flooding my chest terrifies me even more.
I survived a drive-by shooting today. I lost my food truck, my entire livelihood.
And yet, lying naked on a dusty mattress in a condemned hotel with a mafia enforcer buried inside me, I feel safer than I have in my entire life.
Dante shifts his weight, preparing to roll off me. He needs to pull out, and I am already mourning the loss of his heat.
A loud, metallic screech shatters the quiet intimacy of the room.
Dante freezes. The muscle of his back turns to granite beneath my fingertips. He rips his face out of my neck, his dark eyes snapping toward the reinforced door of the penthouse suite.
The sound echoes again. It is a grinding mechanical groan. It is coming from the hallway.
The rusted service elevator.
The service elevator we took up here. The one that has no signal above the eleventh floor. The one that no one has used in decades.
It is moving.
Someone has forced the gears. Someone is coming up to the fourteenth floor.
Dante pulls his cock out of my body in one swift motion. A loud, wet pop echoes in the room, followed by the cold rush of air hitting my swollen, slick core. The softness of the last hour vanishes. The enforcer returns, a rigid shield dropping over his humanity, thin and deliberate.
"Get under the bed," Dante orders. His voice is a chilling, dead-calm whisper. There is no warmth left in his eyes. He is already reaching for the Glock.
"Dante—" I scramble backward, frantically pulling his oversized henley back down over my exposed chest and grabbing my jeans from the floor.
"Under the bed, Gemma. Now. Do not make a sound." He racks the slide of his weapon. The sharp, metallic click is the loudest sound in the world.
The elevator bell chimes a dull, rusted ding out in the hallway.
The Bellantis have found us.