A Rock and a Hard Place
Evelyn
Iwoke up to find Dante asleep beside me, his intricately inked arm draped casually over my waist, his long legs tangled up in the bedsheets. His breathing was even, his toned chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.
I studied him for a long moment, admiring his tanned face shadowed by stubble, the faint hollows in his cheeks rising into high cheekbones, and his dark eyelashes. It was unfair how gorgeous he was.
He looked so calm, almost content, the ever-present scowl lines now gone, his forehead smooth and unlined. His muscular body was relaxed—all except one part.
Was that…?
Oh. My. God. It was his morning hard-on digging into my thigh.
After the night we’d had, how on earth could he have an erection?
I was totally exhausted. My body still tingled from all the orgasms he’d given me.
Visions of our nocturnal activities flooded back, and I found myself blushing as I lay there, the morning light forcing its way through the cracks in the blinds.
After that first time, where I’d been desperate to feel him inside of me, to ease the throb of desire that had been building ever since I’d first met him, he’d been less rushed, less frenzied.
Dante Marcelli had surprised me.
Instead of the hard and fast sex I’d expected, he’d been slow, intense, and thorough. Very thorough. He’d made sure I’d come every time as he explored every inch of my body. With his fingers, with his tongue, and finally, again, with his cock. And just like the rest of him, it was devastating.
Thinking about all the wonderful ways he’d pleasured me with it had me overheating again, and that now familiar tight warmth began spreading through my body, settling low between my thighs.
Or maybe it was feeling him poking into me as he murmured something indecipherable in his sleep and threw a heavy leg over mine.
Damn. With both his arm and leg pinning me down, I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t peel back the covers and sneak out of bed to go take a shower.
Couldn’t do anything but feel my body respond to him in a way that I previously wouldn’t have thought possible.
I let out a shaky breath. Yep, I was in way over my head. On all fronts.
The situation with the gallery was a shitshow.
I had no idea what to do about the cartel, or Malakov, or the Marcellis for that matter.
I didn’t relish the idea of being a laundromat for crime syndicates, but I was smart enough to realize that if I refused to do business with them, the blowback on me and my business would be dire.
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Speaking of…
Dante moved again, his arm traveling upwards from my waist to my chest. I quietly gasped as his hand found my breast. Turning my head to see whether he was awake or not, I found those steel eyes settling on me.
Yeah. He was very much awake.
“Hi,” I whispered, wondering how the hell to handle this situation. I couldn’t very well act as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn’t had the best sex of my life last night. But I’d be damned if I was going to swoon and feed his overinflated ego either.
He made a sound low in his throat that sounded like something between a growl and a groan, before rolling over and driving me back into the mattress beneath him.
His weight settled between my thighs, heavy and erotic. One hand slid up my arm, then the other, until he’d pinned both my wrists above my head. His fingers threaded through mine and tightened, holding me there as he stared down at me, leaving me in no doubt as to his intentions.
The gesture should have been possessive and controlling, but the surge of anticipation I felt overpowered all that. I loved seeing the fire in his eyes, such a change from the anger he usually displayed. I loved giving him this control, knowing that he needed me. That he desired me.
The one thing he couldn’t hide was his reaction. His body betrayed him.
Wordlessly, he bent his head and his lips claimed mine. Hard, hungry, and a little bit desperate, he kissed me like we hadn’t been locked together for most of the night.
I felt his body press into mine. Our fingers interlocked as he pinned my hands to the pillow. His chest crushed my breasts, his chest hair teasing my nipples as it brushed against them. The friction alone was enough to pebble them into hard peaks.
The weight of his torso was too heavy to be comforting, the hard lines reminding me how robust and male he was. His hips settled between my thighs and I felt the thick length of him already nudging against the ache between my legs.
With a soft moan, I parted my thighs and curled my calves around his. We were tangled together completely now. Chest to chest. Mouth to mouth. Skin to skin.
His tongue slid deep into my mouth and I kissed him back hungrily. I wanted more of it. More of him.
“Got to have you again,” he growled against my ear, tearing his mouth from mine. Already, he was reaching for his wallet. We were both breathing hard. “One last time.”
I wanted that too. Even knowing we had to leave the cabin at first light. Even knowing dangerous men were hunting me. None of it seemed real when he touched me like this. Right now, there was only Dante and the dizzying, intoxicating memory of how good it felt when he was inside of me.
And worst of all, how right it felt.
“One last time,” I agreed as he pulled on the condom.
His eyes locked on mine as his hand slid between us, lining himself up at my needy entrance. For one suspended moment he froze there, eyes blazing into mine, breathing rough and uneven.
Then, he pushed inside me.
The stretch of him stole the breath from my lungs. My fingers tightened instinctively around his as a broken moan escaped from my lips. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching hard, our combined pulse throbbing beneath my fingertips.
I realized this was affecting him every bit as much as it was affecting me.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered hoarsely.
He sank deeper, inch by magnificent inch, until there was nowhere left for him to go. He filled me completely, anchoring me to him.
I could feel his heart hammering, or perhaps that was mine. I couldn’t be sure.
For a moment neither of us moved. We just stayed there, tangled together, breathing the same air, staring at each other like something irreversible had just happened between us. Maybe it had.
Then I lifted my hips beneath him. That tiny movement tore a rough growl from his throat, and he lowered his head and kissed me hard as he started to move.
Every thrust was deep and deliberate, like he was trying to carve himself into me permanently, but there was desperation underneath it now too. A need.
I matched him instinctively, my body arching against his as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my stomach. The room filled with the sound of our breathing, the creak of the bed beneath us, the low growl he made whenever I clenched around him.
He buried his face against my throat for a second, his grip on my hands tightening almost painfully.
“Look at what you do to me,” he rasped, as if this was all my fault.
The words sent heat flooding through me. I lifted my chin as he kissed me again, this time roughly and possessively like he was marking me.
I’d never experienced anything like this before. It was almost like he was claiming me, letting me know that somehow, despite everything, my body belonged to him. How could something that felt so damn right be so wrong?
I closed my eyes as my pulse raced and the pressure in my core deepened. Every thrust drove me closer to the edge until I couldn’t think straight.
“Dante,” I whimpered helplessly. I didn’t know what I was saying. I felt feverish and desperate, consumed and possessed.
He lifted his head at the sound of his name on my lips. His eyes were pure steel, glinting darkly at me.
“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else,” he muttered roughly, gripping my hands so tight I felt locked to him. “Come for me, baby.”
The way he said it sent me shattering over the edge. Pleasure crashed through me all at once, fierce enough to steal the breath from my lungs. I cried out and clung to him as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure tore through my trembling body.
Dante followed with a broken curse against my mouth, his torso going rigid above mine as he came too. I felt him pulse inside me, again and again, but it extended my own orgasm and I cried out as we kept on coming together.
Afterward, he released my fingers and laid his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his back and held him tight, afraid to let go. Afraid that the smallest movement would shatter the fragile cocoon of emotions surrounding us.
For a long moment neither of us moved.
We stayed tangled together in the soft morning light, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. His hand had slid into my hair, while mine rested against the back of his neck, and the silence between us no longer felt hostile or uncertain.
It felt dangerous in an entirely different way.
Because somewhere between the fear, the violence, and the chaos surrounding us, something had changed. And deep down, I think we both knew there was no going back from it now.