Chapter 18 Serena
SERENA
The only thing that can take my mind off all the stress around me is a long, hot shower.
Steam rises in thick, curling tendrils from the hot water cascading over my skin, turning the tiled shower into a hazy cocoon where the villa's shadows can't reach.
I've locked the bathroom door, but the anger simmers under my flesh like embers refusing to die.
Dante's summit, the cellar's secrets, Marco's safety—it's all tangled in my chest, but the tightest knot is the one tied to him, to the man who keeps vanishing.
My hand slides down my belly, fingers parting the folds between my thighs as I lean against the cool marble wall.
The water pounds my shoulders, rhythmic and insistent, mimicking the pulse throbbing in my core.
I close my eyes, picturing Dante's face.
But the fantasy twists, unbidden, to the ache he keeps leaving behind.
My fingers circle my clit, slow at first, building pressure that makes my breath hitch.
The sensation is sharp, electric, the water sluicing over my hand like a lover's tongue, warm and unrelenting.
I dip two fingers inside myself, curling them against that sensitive ridge, thrusting shallowly as my thumb grinds my clit.
A low moan escapes me, swallowed by the rush of the shower, my free hand bracing higher on the wall, nails scraping tile.
"Fuck you," I whisper to the steam, imagining his cock instead—thick, demanding, the way it filled me on the prep table just hours ago.
My hips rock forward, chasing the friction, the coil in my belly tightening as slick arousal mixes with the water trailing down my legs.
It's not enough. It's never enough when anger fuels it, turning pleasure into something fiercer, more punishing.
The door clicks softly and Dante steps in, his silhouette cutting through the mist like a blade.
He's shirtless, pants low on his hips, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light filtering from the frosted window.
"What the hell?" I snap, yanking my hand away, but I don't cover myself.
The anger flares hotter, mixing with the unfinished heat between my legs. "Get out. Now."
He doesn't. Instead, he kicks the door shut behind him, the wood groaning in protest, and strips off his pants in one fluid motion, revealing the hard lines of his body, cock already half-erect and curving toward his navel.
The air thickens with the scent of his skin, musk and rain and that faint, sharp tang of gun oil he never quite washes away.
"Heard you," he says, voice low and gravelly, stepping into the shower without invitation.
The water hits him immediately, plastering his dark hair to his forehead, rivulets tracing the scars across his chest—reminders of fights I wasn't there for, absences that mirror my own resentments.
"Sounded like you needed help finishing what you started. "
I shove him, palm flat against his wet chest, but he doesn't budge, just catches my wrist and pulls me closer, the spray enveloping us both.
His body is a wall of heat against mine, cock brushing my thigh, thick and insistent.
"You think you can just barge in? After everything?
" My voice cracks with fury, the words spilling out like venom.
I twist in his grip, but it's half-hearted.
The anger twists into something darker, hungrier, my pussy clenching at the proximity, still slick from my own touch.
Dante's eyes narrow, water streaming down his face, but he doesn't back down.
He spins me instead, slamming my back against the shower wall with controlled force, the marble biting cold into my spine.
His hand fists in my wet hair, tilting my head back so the water pounds my face, forcing me to gasp for air.
"Angry at me?" he growls, his free hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"Good. Use it. I've taken your fire before, Serena.
Let it burn me now." His mouth crashes down on mine, not gentle, a bruising kiss that tastes of salt and rage, his tongue invading like he's claiming territory long denied.
I bite his lip in retaliation, drawing a coppery tang that mixes with the water, and he hisses, pulling back just enough to flip me around again, my cheek pressed to the tile, ass arched out under the relentless spray.
"You bastard," I spit, but my hands splay against the wall, bracing as his cock nudges between my thighs from behind, sliding through my slick folds without entering.
The tease is maddening, the thick head bumping my clit with each shallow rock of his hips, sending jolts up my spine.
The steam clogs my lungs, every breath heavy with the scent of soap and our shared arousal, the wet slap of skin already echoing in the enclosure.
He doesn't ask—he thrusts in hard, burying himself to the root in one brutal stroke, the stretch burning deliciously as my pussy yields to him.
I cry out, the sound raw and echoing, my walls clenching around his girth, feeling every ridge and vein as he holds still for a beat, letting me adjust to the invasion.
Water cascades over us, hot and soothing the sting, but nothing tempers the fury.
"That's it," he rasps against my ear, his chest sliding slick against my back, one hand pinning my wrists above my head while the other snakes around to pinch my nipple, twisting until I arch.
"Fight me with this tight little cunt. Squeeze me like you hate me—because you do, don't you? "
"Fuck you," I gasp, bucking back against him, the movement driving him deeper, the angle hitting that spot inside that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
He sets a punishing pace immediately, hips snapping forward with wet, forceful slaps that drown out the shower's roar, his balls smacking my clit rhythmically.
The sensation is overwhelming—fullness and friction, the water making everything glide smoother, hotter, my skin hypersensitive where his fingers bruise my hips.
I twist my head, catching his mouth in a messy, angry kiss over my shoulder, teeth clashing, tongues battling as I grind back, meeting every thrust with my own spiteful rhythm.
"You're soaked for it," he taunts, breath hot and ragged in my ear, his hand releasing my wrists to slide down, fingers finding my clit and rubbing in rough circles that make my knees buckle.
"All that anger, and your pussy's begging for my cock.
Admit it—you've wanted this, wanted to make me pay for every night I wasn't there.
" He punctuates the words with a deeper thrust, grinding against my cervix, the pressure building like a storm in my core, coiling tight and vicious.
"Yes—God, yes, I hate you for it," I moan, the confession torn from me as pleasure spikes, my body betraying the rage with every flutter around him.
He pulls out suddenly, leaving me empty and whining, then hauls me upright, spinning me to face him.
The water blinds me momentarily, but I see the feral glint in his eyes, the way his cock juts up, slick and veined, demanding.
"On your knees," he orders, but I shove him instead, reversing our positions so his back hits the wall.
"Not like that," I snarl, dropping down anyway, but taking control—my hands on his thighs, nails digging in as I take him into my mouth in one swift motion, sucking hard, tongue swirling the head to taste myself on him.
He groans, head thunking back against the tile, fingers tangling in my hair, but I set the pace, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing deep, gagging slightly on his length before pulling back with a pop.
The water streams into my mouth, mixing with his pre-cum, salty and bitter, fueling the wildness.
"You don't get to order me anymore," I say, rising to my feet, pushing him down to the shower floor in a tangle of limbs.
He lands on his ass with a splash but pulls me down onto his lap in the same breath, our bodies slick and sliding.
I straddle him reverse, facing away, gripping his knees for leverage as I sink onto his cock, the position folding me open, letting him hit deeper than before.
The tile is hard under his back, but he doesn't complain—just grips my ass, spreading me wider as I ride him furiously, hips slamming down with wet smacks that send water spraying.
"Like this," I demand, voice breaking on a gasp as his thumb finds my asshole, circling the tight ring teasingly.
"Make it hurt, make me feel every second you were gone. "
He presses in, just the tip, the dual penetration making me shudder, my pussy clenching harder around his cock as I bounce, the burn exquisite and filthy.
His other hand reaches around to slap my clit lightly, the sting pushing me closer to the edge, sensations layering—fullness in my core, pressure at my ass, the relentless grind against my g-spot.
"You're a wild one," he grunts, thrusting up to meet me, the rhythm erratic now, water pooling around us like a shallow sea.
"Riding me like you want to break me. Come on, Serena, soak my cock with that angry cum. "