40. Chapter Fifty Dante
Chapter Fifty: Dante
T he steam from the shower still clung to the air, a mist that made everything else fade away—the world outside this penthouse, the life of crime I was born into—nothing existed except Jade and me. I watched her, lying there with water droplets glistening on her skin like she'd been dipped in diamonds. The low light cast shadows that danced across her curves, and I could feel that tight sensation in my chest. It wasn't just desire; it was something deeper, something that scared the shit out of me.
"Think you can come again for me?" My voice was rough, almost a growl, as I pushed back a damp lock of her dark hair and looked into her eyes.
Before she could catch her breath to answer, I was on her again. My mouth found the softness between her thighs, and I parted them with hands that knew every inch of her. The taste of her on my tongue mixed with the saltiness of my own release. Her sharp intake of breath was music to my ears.
"Ah, Dante..." Jade's voice broke, a tremor of pleasure in her words as my tongue swirled against her. She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me without words to chase her climax once more. I obliged, consumed by the need to watch her fall apart under my touch again.
Her hips lifted off the bed, seeking the pressure of my mouth, and I gave her what she wanted, what I needed to give. This wasn't just about getting off; this was claiming and being claimed. In this room, with the city waking up below us, nothing mattered but the connection that tethered us together, fragile yet unbreakable.
"God... yes, Dante," she gasped, and I doubled my efforts, determined to pull yet another orgasm from the depths of her. The power of it all was intoxicating. The woman who spent her days unraveling the secrets of life itself, now unraveled beneath me.
"Jade..." I murmured against the heat of her, my breath hot on her sensitive flesh. "I needed to taste you again." The words were barely out before I sucked on her swollen clit, feeling the tremors that ripped through her body as if they were my own.
Her hands tightened in my hair, nails scraping my scalp in a way that sent a jolt through me. I looked up at her. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted in silent pleas—fueled my desire to push her further, to break down any remaining barriers between us.
Jade struggled to keep her eyes open, fighting the dual sensations of exhaustion and pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath a testament to the intensity of what we were sharing. She was still trembling from the high I'd just pulled her from, her body a live wire of sensitivity.
But when she managed to look down at me, it was clear there was no turning back. That raw desire I saw mirrored in her gaze ignited something primal in me.
"Jade," I whispered, my voice thick with want. "Let go for me.”
And she did—with a moan that filled the room, echoing off the walls of my penthouse, etching itself into my memory where it would remain forever.
As her body shuddered and convulsed, I rode the wave of her release with her, my name spilling from her lips like a prayer. In that moment, in the dim light of dawn filtering through the windows, I knew I'd waited my entire life for this—for her.
And I was damn well going to keep her.
I let her finish riding her orgasm, then looked up at her.
“Again,” I said, pressing a finger into her.
“Wait…”
I could practically feel Jade's heartbeat against my tongue as it flicked across her most sensitive spot. Her hands fumbled, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer.
"Dante," she sobbed out again, her voice breaking on my name. My tongue worked in slow circles, deliberate and unyielding. She gasped sharply, a sound that shot straight to my groin. Her pleasure was mine, and I craved it like the air I breathed.
"Come for me again," I commanded, my voice low and rough with desire. I slid another finger inside her, stretching her, claiming her. She repeated my name, over and over, a chant that fueled my movements.
Jade's body responded to me—her walls gripping my fingers like a vice. The room spun with the intensity of our connection, the sounds of the city far below us fading into nothingness. This was our world, where only we existed, and each breath, each moan, was a declaration of what we'd become to each other.
"Too much," she gasped, but her hips betrayed her words, seeking more of my touch.
"Never enough," I countered, watching her come undone beneath me once again.
I felt her climax building again, stronger and more insistent than before. My fingers curled inside Jade, seeking out the rhythm that would unravel her completely. The soft sounds of her pleasure filled the room, drowning out the distant noise of New York waking up.
"Ah, God, Dante," she moaned, her voice laced with both desperation and disbelief. Each delicate tug of my mouth on her sent tremors through her body, each nibble a promise of the release to come.
She was close; I could tell by the way her breath hitched and her body tensed. I didn't let up, determined to push her over the edge once more. My own need mirrored hers, raw and demanding. But this was about Jade, about watching her break apart because of me.
"Dante," she keened, her voice a sharp contrast to the quiet morning beyond these walls. Her hips bucked against me, uncontrollable and urgent. Her fingers gripped my hair, holding me to her as if she thought I might stop before she reached that peak. But I had no intention of stopping—not until she shattered into a thousand pieces.
Again.
Her breathing was ragged, almost suffocating, as every part of her honed in on the sensations I inflicted. She was all I saw, all I felt.
"Come for me, Jade," I urged, my voice nothing but a growl. My fingers worked inside her with relentless precision, and she convulsed around them. Every sound she made fueled my desire to hear more, to take her to heights even she hadn't known existed. And when she finally came apart beneath me, it was with an intensity that shook us both to our cores.
She trembled beneath me, her body a canvas of oversensitivity after the crescendo of her release. Jade lay there, chest heaving, a sheen of perspiration glistening on her skin like the morning dew on the city's gardens below my penthouse window. I watched her, every twitch and shudder under my gaze, feeling something akin to pride swelling in my chest. She was utterly spent, and I had done that to her.
"Jade," I whispered, the sound barely breaking through the silence that enveloped us now. My mouth sought the familiar path up her body, lips pressing against the softness of her inner thighs. She gasped, a small sound of surprise at the gentleness I could muster even after such raw intensity. I knew each kiss imprinted on her skin would remind her of this moment, of us, long after the sun climbed higher in the autumn sky.
My journey continued upwards, my mouth worshiping every inch of her. When I reached the valley between her breasts, I lingered, feeling her heart pounding against my lips. It was moments like these, where the world outside didn't exist, that I allowed myself to truly feel—to acknowledge that what we had wasn't just about lust or power.
Her hands found their way to my hair again, fingers threading through as if she were trying to pull me closer, to fuse together as one. And when I finally met her lips with mine, it was with reverence.
The kiss was slow and deliberate, tasting the remnants of passion and the promise of more to come.
"Jade," I murmured against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak. "I'd do anything for you." The words slipped out, a quiet confession in the brightening day. Her eyes locked onto mine, holding a universe of emotions I had yet to explore.
I pressed my lips to hers again, taking the time to taste every sigh and whisper that spilled from her. Time slowed, and the world outside my penthouse walls ceased to exist as I lost myself in the softness of her mouth.
"Jade," I breathed out, my voice barely above a murmur. My forehead rested against hers, our breaths mingling. "For you, I'd walk away from it all." The words hung heavy in the air, a promise laced with the danger of my reality.
She blinked slowly, as if she was processing the weight of what I was offering – escape from this life of blood and shadows. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, a silent acceptance of the chaos I brought into her orderly world.
"But it's not that simple, beautiful," I continued, the title slipping out with an intimacy that mirrored the way she had seeped into my bones. "It will take time, and you...you'll have to wait for me."
She thought for a second. “Can you do it before the baby is born?”
“I can’t make you any promises,” I said. “But what do we have? Seven months? I can try.”
“Okay,” she said. In that single syllable, I heard the echoes of her trust. It was enough to steel my resolve.
In that morning light, with the crisp fall air whispering through the city, I made an unspoken vow. No matter the cost, I would carve a path for us – one where the only shadows that clung were those cast by the sun filtering through the blinds.
I was going to get us out. And our child would never have to deal with the Moretti legacy.