Chapter 26 Dante
Dante
Thoroughly exhausted after our call, Elliott leads Melody and me to our accommodations.
The utilitarian theme from the Appalachian bunker follows here, though the living quarters are on the second floor instead of underground.
I do appreciate the terracotta tile floors in place of concrete, and the yellow painted walls provide a somewhat cheerier feeling.
The door to our room is still steel, though.
"Helena will be staying across the hall from you, here," Elliot says as he points to another steel door. "That is, if we can convince her to leave Melnyk's side for rest."
"Good luck with that," Melody quips.
"Yes, well. You have a bathroom attached to your sleeping quarters, and we've provided clothes for each of you in the dresser." He points to a frosted glass door—the bathroom, I assume—and a small wooden chest of drawers. "They are not high fashion. But they are clean."
"Thank you for your hospitality." I nod to the man as he silently takes his leave.
"Ugh," Melody groans as she flops onto the queen-size bed. "Oh, my god. It's a real bed. It's not a fucking prison cot. It's not a hospital gurney. It's a real, honest-to-god bed."
"Smaller than a king bed, though." I sigh and perch myself on the edge next to my wife. "I'll have to curl in very close to you, love."
"Oh no!" She pops her head up with a smile. "My hot, tattooed husband has to snuggle me? All night? How will I ever survive?"
She pulls a chuckle out of me, and my heart aches. Through everything, even in her darker moments, she's still her. Ella didn't break her spirit. "It'll be rough, but I believe in you."
Melody rolls over and props her head up with her hand. She leans on her elbow and kicks her legs, looking very much like a stereotypical teenager at a slumber party. "So… remember how you said you would tell me something in private?"
"I do," I admit.
"Is this private enough? Or do you want me to ask Elliott for a room with a six-inch thick steel door, instead of the paltry five inches?"
I reach over and cup her cheek, stroking the soft skin with my thumb. "I can't get anything by you, can I?"
"Nope!" She leans into my touch. "Spill, babe."
"Well… I had a dream. In the hospital." Images of my former best friend grimacing flash through my mind. A chill runs down my spine as I try to find the words. "It started off wonderfully. We were at a beach—you, Helena, me, and… our daughter."
Melody lets out a gasp, her eyes wide, but she motions for me to continue.
"Everything was perfect. You and Helena played with our little girl in the gentle waves.
Seagulls flew overhead, trying to snatch whatever food they could find.
It was… joyful. It all felt so safe, and so real.
Our—our little girl, love, she looked so much like you.
And me. She had your expressive eyes, but they were green, like mine.
She had your hair. Your smile. Your infectious laugh. She was so happy."
"And then?"
I take a breath, steeling myself. I can't look at her.
Not for this part. "Gunshots. In an instant, everything changed.
What was happy and free became terrifying.
I dove on top of our daughter, shielding her.
I kept her under a beach chair. You and Helena hid…
somewhere, I don't know. Our girl followed my directions perfectly, but I could feel her shaking with fear. It felt like a knife to my gut."
"Oh, god, Dante…." Melody turns over and sits behind me, wrapping her arms around my stomach. I can feel her heartbeat against my back. It's comforting. Her warmth is comforting. I slip a hand into hers and squeeze. "I'm so sorry, babe."
"It was Roman. He kicked the chair away, he aimed a rifle at me—at our daughter—and it's the most painful fear I've ever felt.
" Terror and fury roll through my body at the thought.
The memory is hazy, as dreams remembered usually are, but I still have a visceral reaction.
Cold sweat beads on the back of my neck.
The only thing that breaks through is the warmth of Melody's body pressed against mine.
Silently, she shifts her position and pulls me down with her. With a sigh, I settle into her arms, resting my head on her lap. She toys with my hair and runs her nails along my scalp. Goosebumps erupt all over me, and I shiver with contentment.
"I'm so sorry, babe. That sounds… intense, to say the least," she whispers. "But… he's dead. He can't hurt you, and he can't hurt our babies."
"I have you to thank for that, love. His loss still hurts sometimes, but the betrayal hurts worse. But you took care of it." I capture her hand and bring it to my lips for a tiny kiss. "I always knew you were a spitfire."
The bed jiggles with her muffled laughter. "Always? Like when you were stalking me?"
"Stalking?" I scoff. "You call it stalking; I call it passion. I was just… watching you. From a distance."
"And breaking into my apartment to leave me flowers and food."
"Is the way to a woman's heart not through her stomach?" I turn over, slipping my hand under her back and pulling her towards me. "I could swear I heard something like that."
She laughs. The joyous sound fills my heart, and I squeeze her body closer.
I can't get enough of her. I want her at my side at all times.
I never want to be without her. Being separated from her in the prison—and when she was in actual prison—was damn near torture.
I'll burn the whole world down to be with her always.
Even when her curls tickle my nose as I nuzzle my nose into the crook of her neck.
"I love you," I whisper, relishing in the way she shivers at my words.
"I love you, too, Dante."
Natural light filters through the soft white curtains.
It's the most peaceful wake-up I've had in months.
The sun is shining, the bed is comfortably soft, and my wife is still asleep by my side.
Her hair splays across the pillow like a dark halo.
Her measured breathing is soft and soothing.
Every part of her is adorable, and I still can't believe she's pregnant. With twins. My twins.
Our twins.
The idea of her soft belly swelling with my heirs sends a shock through my core. She's my wife, she's all mine, and we made two babies. Wow.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Melody grumbles, squinting at me with one eye.
"Just thinking about how gorgeous you are."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, babe." She stifles a yawn, then wriggles closer to me, resting her adorably sleepy head against my chest. In this moment, everything is perfect. We're safe. We're alive. My wife is pregnant, and she's snuggled up to me, making cute little noises of contentment.
"Everywhere?" I ask with a grin. She rolls back over to look up at my face. An impish smile spreads over her lips, and she nods.
"Absolutely everywhere."
"Well, in that case…." I trail a hand down the soft curve of her waist, all the way to the thick muscle of her ass. "You're the most strikingly beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be married to you."
"Keep talking," she moans, arching her back.
"I adore your ferocity. I told you once it'd be the honor of my life if you killed me, and I mean it. Of course, I hope you don't—our children need their parents. But if your face was the last thing I saw?" I hiss out a satisfied breath. "Perfection."
"Less talk about dying, more talk about what you wanna do to me," she grumbles. "Don't kill my mood, Dante."
"My apologies, love." I pull her closer and bury my face in the crook of her neck.
She shivers as I kiss her, letting my teeth dance along the soft flesh.
"I want to fill you with my seed, over and over again.
I want you to scream my name. I want you to run those sharp nails down my back.
I want to watch you shatter around my cock until you can't take it anymore. "
Her muscles tense as she sucks in a gasp. "Really?"
"Really."
My wife, bless her, attacks me with that incredible ferocity I love so much. She kisses me like she'll never get the chance again. Her lips—so soft, so plush—savage mine, and I let my primal groan rumble in my throat. Melody shivers at the vibrations, and her hand tangles in my hair.
"So, fucking do it," she whispers, pulling away for a short second.
Her face is flushed, and her pupils are black voids, drinking in every inch of me.
With one hand in my hair, she slides the other down to my chest, down my stomach, and further down…
until she slides beneath the waistband of my underwear.
My cock is nearly weeping. I didn't even realize I was that hard until her hand wraps around my length. She traps her lower lip between her teeth, gently stroking me. I can feel the hot bead of precum well up before she spreads it all over my head.
"You're such a good fucking boy," she murmurs, grasping my hair at the root. "You're my good boy."
"I am—I know I am, please, Melody—let me show you how good I can be," I whimper.
"Yes, moan for me, Dante. I'm the only one who gets to hear you like this. You're mine." She tightens her grip on my hair. The delicate dance between pleasure and pain has me rocking my hips against her.
"I'm yours, love, I'm yours. Please?" I am not above begging.
"Are you going to fuck me hard?"
"Yes—"
"—Are you going to fuck me deep?"
"Oh, god, yes—"
"—Are you going to fuck me like a good girl deserves?"
I stop moving and stare directly into her deep brown eyes. "Melody, love, I will fuck you like the best girl deserves."
She gives me one tiny nod, releasing her hold on my hair and cock. I help her shimmy down her underwear and sleeping shorts, revealing my wife's incredible, hot, wet, waiting pussy. I situate myself between her legs and push her knees apart, wider, wider, until she's spread-eagle in front of me.
"Fuck, you're amazing," I whisper. She shivers as I trail a finger up her inner thigh. I don't touch her pussy—not yet, not quite—but she wriggles her hips anyway. She wants me to touch her. I will. Oh, I will. But I want the anticipation to build.
Circling her cunt with my hands, I apply gentle pressure to the crease between her labia and thighs.
With my hands in place, I massage into the soft skin.
Watching with rapt attention, I spread her lips apart and pull back her hood.
Her bright pink clit greets me, and her thighs tremble around my arms.
"God, I missed this," I mumble before diving in. She tastes like heaven. She tastes like every delicious sin imaginable. As I work her clit with my tongue and lips, I slide a finger into her soaked cunt and slowly massage her walls.
The noises she makes are like a symphony.
Every gasp gets me closer to the edge. Every wailing moan stokes a fire in my chest. Every whispered plea and promise zips through my nerves.
My cock is so hard, it's almost painful.
But I don't care. I don't fucking care. I'll get mine, but for now? This is for her.
And for me, if I'm entirely honest. I love seeing her like this. I love seeing the red flush creep up her chest. I love seeing her throw her head back onto the pillows. I love feeling her muscles tense under my touch. I fucking adore the way she moans my name.
Her breathing quickens, morphing from long, slow moans to short, little gasps.
I can feel her walls start to clamp down around my finger, and I roll her clit between my lips.
Just the way she likes it. Her orgasm is close, and I want it to rock through every cell in her body.
I curl my finger to that sweet spot, applying a little more pressure, and flick her clit with my tongue while I trap it between my lips.
When I suck the gorgeous little pearl into my mouth, she fucking detonates.
My wife's legs stiffen as she arches her back from the mattress. A rush of fluid coats my face, soaking into my beard, and I rumble a low groan through wave after wave of her orgasm. As soon as I feel her twitching, I slowly remove my hand and pull back my head.
"Did I…?"
"You did," I confirm with a wolfish grin. "I've never seen a woman do that—thought it was a myth, honestly."
"Holy shit." She pants, catching her breath. "Me, too."
I wipe my face, enjoying the hazy afterglow in her eyes. "You're not done, love."
"I'm not?"
"No." I push her thighs apart again and line up my cock to her cunt before thrusting home. My eyes roll back in my head. Every inch of my body is singing with joy. She lets out the most adorable little whimper as I bury my cock to the hilt. "You feel like sin."
"That's me," she gasps. "Your hell-demon wife."
"My wife, who takes my cock like the best good girl in the world.
" I snap my hips, eliciting another sharp gasp from Melody.
I don't think I'll last long, and that's fine.
I gave her a mind-blowing orgasm, based on the way her arms flop back limp and loose.
She lets out tiny, little mewling moans, and I drive my cock into her over and over.
Over and fucking over. Her pussy is perfection.
Everything about her is perfection. I love the jiggle of her thick thighs.
I love the swell of her tummy. I love every freckle, dimple, stretch mark, and roll that she has to offer.
My hands work overtime to touch every part of her that I adore.
She's so goddamn soft. I want to bury myself in her and never let go.
"God, you're so fucking big," she moans. "I love it so much—I love that big cock."
Shit. Her words push me over the edge before I'm ready.
In my defense, a gorgeous woman—my wife—just told me how much she loves my big cock.
That would be the undoing of anyone. Waves of pleasure roll through my body as I spill my seed, filling her up, pumping every last drop of my cum into her perfect cunt.
I'm pretty sure I black out. Everything in the room falls away.
Nothing matters but her. Nothing matters but this.
Gasping and panting, I gently extract my spent cock from her pussy and flop over. "Fuck, darling. You're going to be my undoing."
"You think so?" she asks, turning to face me with a hazy smile. "I could think of worse things."
"God. Me, too."