10. Dante
Dante
S he stands silently, stricken by the video. All it took was a little medical intervention, and she agreed happily and willingly. The furious woman before me, though, is a vision of rage and terror. My cock stirs in my pants at the sight of her.
"That's not binding. That can't be binding. That's not even my real—" she stops herself.
"Not your real what? Not your real name? Oh, I know. Melody Autumn Crawford," I reply flippantly, enjoying the look of shock on her face. "Though that's not your real name anymore, either. Legally, you are Melody Isabella Lyons."
Her mouth flops open and shut like a fish. Tears well up in her eyes, and it sends a jolt of desire down my spine. I've always loved my women a little bit broken, and she truly takes the cake.
"But… how?" she whispers.
"Simple. I gave you an offer you couldn't refuse." I pocket my phone and extend a hand toward her. "You've had a long day, wife. Come to bed with me."
A switch flips in her head, and she takes off running in a flash.
I bare my teeth in a wicked smile. I do love the chase.
Kicking off my shoes, I follow her down the darkened hallway towards the kitchen.
She falters as she reaches the door, unsure of where to go, but quickly hones her gaze in on the knife block.
Faster than a blink, she's grabbed the biggest one of the bunch and whirled around to face me, holding the knife out threateningly.
It's adorable.
"Stay the fuck back, you hear me?" Melody pants with a flush to her cheeks.
I take another step toward her. "Loud and clear, dearest. Here's the thing, though." I take another step, and she shuffles backwards. "You don't know this house like I do."
"I know enough about the business end of a knife, prick." She holds up the chef's knife, waggling it at me. I smirk and take another step closer, but she bolts. Again.
She feints to the left but passes me on the right as I lunge for her—not fast enough, it seems, because she scurries back to the living room. I hear her pounding footsteps stumble as she bounds up the stairs.
"You're in trouble, Melody!" I sing out with a smile as I turn to follow her. A muffled fuck you sounds from the second floor, and a door slams shut. I casually walk up the stairs, whistling to myself. There aren't that many rooms on the second floor, just some spare bedrooms and storage closets.
However, all the doors but one are open.
I grin and head towards the suspiciously shut closet, walking as lightly on my feet as possible.
With a flourish, I yank open the door and find—nothing.
Cleaning supplies and a stack of fresh linens sit arranged neatly on the shelves.
There's not enough space for a person to hide without mussing the orderly contents.
"Where are you, wife?" I whisper into the empty hall, listening for her frantic breathing. Silence greets me, broken only by my own exhalations and the faint ticking of my grandfather clock. She's good.
The faintest thump on the third floor above alerts me to her presence. Oh, she's very good. I kick off my shoes and tiptoe to the stairs, taking them two at a time, silently creeping closer and closer to my bride.
Melody is slippery, I'll give her that. But she truly doesn't know the layout of my home yet.
She doesn't know about the hidden passageways I built into the rooms. She doesn't know about the tunnel in the basement that leads to a getaway garage.
She doesn't know about any of my architectural secrets.
And she doesn't know that she's hidden in the lion's den.
Her tiny whimpers echo in the hall, originating from my—our—bedroom.
The best place in the house she could have gone.
Or worst, depending on how you look at it.
I have to hold back my own laughter as I pass by the door, lulling her into a false sense of security.
I can hear the sigh of relief as my shadow strolls down, down, down to my home office.
She thinks she's won, for now. I creep into my office and silently open the hidden panel behind my desk.
A tiny hallway reveals itself, leading directly into my en suite bathroom.
Attempting to muffle the soft click of the latch, I still my movements and wait.
She hasn't moved. She crouches beside my bed, right where I saw her from the corner of my eye, waiting. Watching.
Moonlight streams in through the windows, just barely illuminating her face in the shadows. If she looked over to the bathroom door, she'd see me, but she's focused entirely on the hallway. I smirk. Silly girl.
Counting down from three in my head, I wait until she exhales before I dash over to her crouching figure and pounce .
Melody tumbles down as I pounce, and the knife clatters across the floor.
She struggles against my iron grip, scrabbling her nails on the hardwood floor.
Somehow, she manages to get her feet between herself and my chest—she pushes out a hard kick, sending me flying backwards. I grin. My wife has strong legs.
But that's not going to stop me.
I leap back onto her and grab for her arms, but she yanks herself away with a yelp. Managing to get a tight hold on the skirts of her dress, I slide her towards me, ripping the tulle fabric away from the bodice.
My god, she's heavenly. Her eyes flash with fury as she lies panting on the floor, her breasts heaving with every frantic breath. Her tanned legs ripple with a surprising amount of muscle and… oh, my.
"Melody, love, it appears you're fucking soaked. "
Her eyebrows fly up, and I use her momentary distraction to grab for her, anchoring myself between her legs.
She goes very still as I trail a finger along the outline of her cunt, her panties soaked through.
She smells like roses and sweat and I can't help but bury my nose into her.
It's not close enough— I'm not close enough, I want to crawl under her skin and fucking live there.
My cock strains against the dress pants; I'm bursting at the seams.
"What are you going to do?" Melody whispers, the fight suddenly gone from her eyes.
"I've never forced a woman in my life, and I'm not about to start now." I shove her panties to the side and take in the sight of her delicious cunt, dripping wet, her arousal slippery and coating my fingers. "Open your legs, love. Let me eat."
With a tiny whimper, she relaxes a bit and lets me in.
My eyes roll back in my head as I take the first swipe of my tongue.
Melody, my sweet wife, grabs at my hair so hard it hurts.
I love it. I let out a rumbling moan into her cunt as I devour her—mind, body, and soul.
I thrust a finger into her warm heat and curl it back, ever so gently, eliciting a breathy moan that seems to originate from deep in her gut.
My cock is begging for release, but he can fucking wait.
I've watched her pleasure herself over my hidden cameras for weeks.
I know exactly what she likes, and I'm ready to put all of my lessons to the test. As I swirl my tongue around her clit like she's done with that little bullet vibrator so many times, she gasps and clutches my hair.
"How are you so fucking good?" Melody moans and writhes under my touch.
"Watching and learning," I mumble around her clit. She shudders in a gasp and releases a little more tension in her legs, spreading them wider for me. I pull back and a string of my saliva connects us, face to cunt. "You like that, wife?"
Her familiar rage flashes behind her eyes, and she shoves my face back down. "Fuck you."
"I intend to." Flattening my tongue, I take a long swipe from her glistening entrance all the way to the hood of her clit. Her thighs quake beside my head. I slide one hand away from her sex and grasp the soft flesh of her legs, squeezing as I rub my way to her voluptuous ass cheeks.
She inches closer and closer to her release as I flick her clit over and over with my tongue. Not yet .
I wrench myself back and force my pants down my legs, freeing my cock. She eyes it with a gasp, taking in the sight of my throbbing, thick length. Fisting my cock, I notch the head at her cunt and look up to her face. Almost imperceptibly, she nods, then closes her eyes as I thrust deep into her.
"Fuuuuck," I groan as I pump slowly into her tight, wet heat. "You feel goddamn incredible, Melody."
"Shut the fuck up, and fuck me as hard as I hate you," she grumbles as she throws her arms around my shoulders. My knees ache from the hard floor, but I don't give a singular shit. I'm balls-deep in my wife, and I'm going to breed her.
The thought of pumping her full of my cum again and again nearly sends me over the edge, but I bare my teeth and force it back down.
I've thought of this moment so often, every single night, staring into the pixels of my computer screen.
I've wanted her . I've wanted everything she could give me—my power, my rightful place in the Goetic Consortium, my heir—but this is fucking divine.
I'm completely fucked.
"Dante," Melody gasps under her breath, "I fucking need this."
And that's all it takes. I'm a man possessed as I piston into her with fervor, reaching down to circle her clit like I know she loves.
Just as I'm about to explode, she detonates around me.
Her cunt clenches around my cock as her orgasm lifts her from the floor, arching her back, sobbing and moaning my name like a psalm.
"Fuck yes, pray to me," I roar as I shove my cock into her deep, as deep as it'll go, emptying what feels like gallons of cum. "I'm going to fucking breed you, Melody, fuck!"
Everything goes white as our orgasms peak together, and my heart thumps in my chest, sweat pouring from my brow, panting with exertion.
"You're going to fucking what?"
Apparently, a mind-blowing orgasm isn't enough to calm her down.
She's back to blinding rage as she scampers across the floor, away from me, but all I can see is my cum dripping down her thighs.
I've no idea what happened to the bodice of her dress—it must have been torn away in the frenzy.
She's goddamn gorgeous, though, and I have to convince myself to stop blatantly staring.
"Exactly what I said, love. You signed a contract.
The contract includes bearing me an heir.
Thus, I need to breed you. Did you… not know what heir meant?
" I cock my head to the side and rake my eyes down her soft figure.
Even in the moonlight, she's absolutely stunning.
Her heavy breasts splay atop her heaven-soft stomach, leading down to the full curves of her thighs.
"You drugged me! Of course I don't fucking remember what I signed!" Melody barks at me, yanking the charcoal gray duvet from my bed and wrapping it around herself.
"Semantics, love." I shove my cock back into my pants and stand, holding out a hand to her. She looks at it like I might strangle her. The thought has occurred to me, of course, but I don't think any good would come of it now. "You've had a long day. Why don't you come to bed with me, hmm?"
"Oh, fuck that. I saw all the bedrooms you have—if you're forcing me into this, I'll take one of those." She wraps the duvet around herself tighter and throws her head back, glaring at me with those beautiful brown eyes.
"Force is such an ugly word. I prefer the phrase, strongly encourage ." I smile. "But no, you will not take one of those. I intend to have my wife in my bed."
"I'm not your fucking wife, dickhead." She grabs a lamp from my dresser and tosses it to the floor.
"Legally, you are. You are Melody Isabella Lyons, and I am a happily married man.
" I inspect my nails as she works through her rage.
If anything, I might need to give her a little space in the basement.
Somewhere for her to take out her frustration on inanimate objects that weren't hand-selected by the best interior design team in the state.
I whip out my phone and shut down all the locks in the house. If she can fight her way to another room, I'll let her sleep there… tonight. Tonight only .
And it seems she's taken full advantage of my distraction. Melody whips by me in a blur, sprinting down the hall. I sigh and send a text to Roman.
Trouble in paradise, my friend. Medical intervention required.
ETA three minutes.
I rub my forehead. It seems she's a little more feisty than I bargained for.
Roman arrived within two minutes because he's a goddamn professional. With Melody successfully subdued, he gives her a once-over in her undressed state and raises an eyebrow at me.
"It was worth it, I assure you." I grin, and he huffs out an exasperated breath.
"I mean no disrespect, sir, but will this be a regular thing? Will I need to be on hand for further… requirements… every night?"
I ponder the subject. "Hmm. No, I don't think so. Not if you teach me the proper technique, of course."
He nods and whips out his phone, no doubt texting the rest of the team for further supplies.
I take one last look at Melody, peacefully sleeping in our bed.
She looks so innocent like this. Like she didn't just destroy half of the luxury furnishings of my home.
Don't judge books by their covers, or whatever the saying is.
Together, Roman and I head to the living room and settle into our usual spots. He flicks a shard of broken ceramic from the shoulder of his suit.
"So, what is the plan, now?" he asks.
"Same as it has been. Get what I need from her. Assume my rightful place. And, once there's a living child—or the three years is up—dispose of her." I reach for the whiskey glass and pour myself a healthy inch. Roman grunts appreciatively as I do the same for him.
"Just like that?" He reaches for the glass.
"Just like that."