34. Dante
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DANTE
At Shaw’s apartment, no cameras tracked our movements. No one observed how I bit his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp. Nobody recorded how his hands clawed at my back, pulling me flush against him.
I unbuttoned his shirt to reveal each inch of tanned skin. His fingers trembled as he worked on my buttons, his face flushing when I stared at his exposed chest.
Once we were naked, I backed him toward the bed.
He fell onto the mattress, looking up at me with those green eyes that had haunted me since high school.
I nudged his legs apart and dropped to my knees between them, taking his right hand in mine.
His knuckles were still rough from connecting with Jace’s face.
I traced my thumb across the abrasions, his violence resonating deep in my chest. “You hurt Jace for me,” I murmured, pressing my lips to each knuckle.
Shaw tugged me down with surprising strength, arching upward as I guided him to his back. The afternoon stretched before us. I had hours before I needed to return to the brothel, to Dragon, to the performance I maintained for Salvatore’s benefit.
He responded to my touch with an honesty his words never could. I rewarded him by kissing a trail across his flesh to mark him as mine.
When I shifted lower, I found the hickey I’d left on him, which was already fading. I had assumed it would go unnoticed, but I had been mistaken. The bastard who adopted me must have upgraded the security cameras again to catch the blemish.
I reclaimed my mark with renewed determination, worshipping the spot with my lips, teeth, and tongue until Shaw writhed beneath me with soft whimpers that no amount of money could buy.
When I murmured his name against his skin, the sound he made in response was worth whatever punishment Salvatore would devise.
I slid my hand between his thighs, claiming more of him with each touch.
“Please, Dante,” he moaned, the forbidden syllables of my real name doing unexpected things to my heart.
For once, I didn’t punish him for the slip. Instead, I whispered against his skin, “I’ll have you shouting my name by the time we’re done.” A promise I intended to keep, consequences be damned. But first, I needed to hear him articulate his full surrender. “Tell me what you want.”
“More,” he gasped.
I clicked my tongue in disapproval. “Be specific.” When defiance flickered in his eyes, I relented, licking a long stripe up his cock. “Perhaps this?”
His head fell back. “Yes, please.”
Just as I was about to proceed, a phone vibrated somewhere in the room. I paused, straightening up. “You should answer that.”
“Fuck it, I don’t care right now.”
“But it could be important.” I grinned at his frustration, enjoying the power of denial almost as much as the act itself.
He stalked naked across the room, snatching his phone from his pants with a muttered curse. He answered with a curt greeting.
While his back was turned, I retrieved lube and a condom from my bag, hiding them in the sheets.
I sprawled across his bed, admiring the view of his nude form as he argued with whoever had interrupted us.
When I caught his eye, I wrapped my hand around my cock to stroke it. Maybe it would speed up his call.
Shaw stumbled over his words, causing me to chuckle at my victory.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He listened with a concerned expression.
“No, I’m not upset. I understand why you feel like you need to try.
All I’m asking is that you don’t get arrested in the process.
He’s not worth the bail. Good luck. I’ll see you when you get home, okay? Thanks.”
He tossed his phone aside on the nightstand with a frustrated sigh.
“From that conversation, I’m assuming your cousin is going to try talking some sense into Jace?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Shaw’s shoulders slumped. “I know we can’t leave things like they are right now, but the odds of their conversation escalating to violence are pretty high, if last night was any indication.”
Before Jace could ruin the moment, I took Shaw’s hand, pulling him back to bed. His fingers intertwined with mine. The simple connection felt more intimate than the countless bodies I’d been inside at the brothel. “Here, let me make it better.”
“I’m so tired of Jace’s shit,” he complained as he allowed me to position him on the mattress. “Why can’t he just be mature and move past his stupid high school grudge?”
“I hardly think he’s worth worrying about right now.” I lowered my mouth to his erection to distract him.
His response dissolved into a moan as I traced my tongue along the underside of his cock, savoring the salt of his skin. I cataloged each twitch and gasp like intelligence I could use later.
“Fuck,” he breathed as I slid the head into my mouth, sucking while my tongue worked the sensitive spot underneath.
My hum of approval vibrated against his cock, making him grip the sheets tighter.
His hips bucked when I took him to the root, my nose pressed against the curls at his base.
I held him there, swallowing around him until he made a desperate sound that sent heat straight to my dick.
I bobbed my head along his length, building up the pace for his pleasure.
While he was lost in sensation, I reached for the lube packet, opening it and coating my fingers. At the first touch against his entrance, his body jerked in surprise, eyes flying wide.
“Easy,” I murmured, returning to his cock before he could protest. I circled his hole with gentle pressure, never pushing in, merely introducing him to sensations he’d never experienced before.
Each slow pass of my fingertip revealed his body’s secrets to me through his erratic breathing and gradual relaxing of his muscles as his hips shifted closer to my hand. The show of implicit trust humbled me.
I memorized every flicker of expression as I continued the gentle circles. His lips parted, eyes half-closed, caught between nervousness and arousal. I’d seen countless faces in pleasure, but never one so unguarded. Stripped of performance, his honest reactions spoke volumes.
When his hips began rocking in a silent plea, I pressed my index finger inside, breaching him for the first time. The tight resistance made my breath catch as his body yielded to me. I paused with just my fingertip inside him, giving him time to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion.
“Still okay?” I asked.
His nod was small but certain, his eyes meeting mine with a trust that felt like a physical weight on my chest. I pressed forward to the first knuckle, watching in fascination as his body accepted me.
The tight heat around my finger made my cock throb with anticipation.
More potent than the physical friction was the reality that he had chosen me.
Knowing he had saved his first time for me despite my profession awakened a lethal protectiveness.
“Dante,” he gasped, his thighs trembling on either side of my head.
I pushed deeper, watching his reactions with an intensity I rarely showed clients. When my finger was fully seated inside him, I paused, letting him feel the fullness. His body clutched at my finger, adjusting to the intrusion, learning to accept rather than resist.
When I curled my finger to find that bundle of nerves that would transform discomfort into pleasure, his back arched off the bed with a strangled cry that contained equal parts surprise and pleasure.
The sound traveled straight to my core, igniting something that wasn’t just desire but a profound satisfaction at being the one to introduce him to a new realm of sensation.
His sensitivity delighted me. I pulled back from his cock, replacing my mouth with my free hand as I watched his face. “Good?” I asked, already knowing the answer from the way his body clutched at me.
“Yes,” he panted, his voice rough with wonder. “Please don’t stop.”
I worked him open with reverent patience, establishing a rhythm between my stroking hand and probing finger that had him writhing.
To reward him, I added a second finger. Watching his body accept me, seeing his face transform with pleasure, bypassed every instinct I had perfected at the brothel.
“You’re doing so well,” I told him, my voice rough with unnamed emotions. “Look at you taking my fingers so perfectly.”
His cock twitched in my hand at the praise, a genuine response I filed away for later exploration. I scissored my fingers inside him, stretching him open with careful attention while I lowered my head to take him back into my mouth. My goal was to surround him with pleasure from all sides.
When his muscles tensed as he neared his release, I pulled back. “Do you trust me?” I asked, the question weighted with meaning he couldn’t possibly understand. Trust was a luxury I’d never been able to afford, a weakness Salvatore had beaten out of me years ago.
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. The simplicity of his faith in me cracked open something I’d thought permanently sealed.
I returned to my task with renewed focus, working him with my mouth while my fingers stretched him open. I took my time, ensuring he felt nothing but pleasure as I prepared him.
When I added a third finger, he tensed at the stretch.
I stilled, allowing him to adjust. “Breathe,” I instructed, pressing kisses to his inner thigh.
I curled my fingers to massage his prostate with each thrust, watching his face transform with pleasure.
His cock leaked against his stomach as he rocked against my hand.
“That’s it. Show me how much you want it. ”
His movements became more urgent while chasing the sensation. When I felt him getting close again, I took him deep into my throat, swallowing around him as I massaged the sensitive spot I knew would push him over the edge.
The combination proved too much. He cried out my name as he came, his body clenching around my fingers as I swallowed everything he gave me.
I continued to work him through his climax, gentling my touch as the tremors subsided. “See? I told you I wanted to make you feel better,” I murmured, still moving inside him to keep him open. “And that was just the beginning.”
“I’m not sure about this,” he whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, stilling but not withdrawing. He fluttered around my fingers, his body uncertain but overtly curious.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said, even as his hips betrayed him by pushing back against my hand.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked.
“I’m not afraid.” Pride flared in his vivid green eyes.
“Then what’s holding you back?” I changed the angle of my fingers inside him, which earned me an interesting whimper. When he didn’t answer, I added, “I’ll stop whenever you want, Shaw. I’m not trying to force you into this.”
Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”
That single word contained more trust than anyone had ever placed in me other than my brother.
I withdrew my fingers with careful slowness, not missing the small sound of loss he made.
My hands trembled as I rolled on the condom and applied lube, shaken by the weight of what was happening between us.
Positioning myself at his entrance, I met his eyes, seeking final confirmation. When he nodded, I pushed forward, stopping at the first sign of resistance. “Breathe,” I coached him, stroking his thigh.
He nodded, focusing on doing as I suggested while I continued my careful advance. As I sank into his body, the tight heat of him tested my control. Each inch I gained broke down the walls I had constructed around myself for years.
His eyes never left mine. In my world of calculated risks, open vulnerability served as a weakness to be exploited. Here, his complete trust forged a strength I had never possessed.
Fully seated inside him, I pressed gentle kisses to his neck, jaw, and temple, to ground us both in a profound space that existed beyond Salvatore’s reach.
“You feel incredible,” I murmured against his ear, the words woefully inadequate. “So tight around me. Absolutely perfect in every way.”
My body trembled with the effort of restraint as I waited for him to adjust. I had waited years, and intended to savor the experience. For the first time in my life, sex was about connection rather than racing toward a climax.
Having so little to call my own left me violently possessive of the few things I had. I’d never expected Shaw to become one of those fiercely guarded things, but feeling him yield to me completely, I knew I’d slaughter anyone who tried to take him away from me, even Salvatore.
I studied the flush across his cheekbones and the open trust in his eyes. He was the boy who had watched me from across classrooms since high school, the man who had risked everything to be with me, and the only person who had ever seen Dante without Dragon’s scales.
But as Shaw’s body yielded to mine, Renato’s face flashed through my mind. I needed them both to be whole. Renato embraced my capacity for cruelty, while Shaw nurtured what little light remained in my soul. Each man held a piece of me the other couldn’t reach.
I had spent years calculating every move, treating people as assets to be leveraged. But Shaw and Renato had become my vulnerability and absolute strength. The thought of losing either gutted me, reducing Salvatore’s punishments to trivial inconveniences by comparison.
Somewhere between hatred and survival, I had finally found something worth living for rather than a brutal cause worth dying for.
The complexity of needing them both would eventually force impossible choices. But buried intimately inside Shaw, I allowed myself to believe I could build a life encompassing all my fractured pieces.