Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Dante,” she breathes my name, a heavenly litany on her lips. “Don’t stop.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I go to withdraw my fingers, but take the opportunity to fully prepare her. I pound my fingers back into her, only upon withdrawing do I up two fingers to three, working her closer to a heavenly fucking state. The noises she emits cause me to keep my eyes on her, but the way she’s biting down on her damn lip causes me to become more aroused.

  “You want more of this?”

  She nods, finally opening her eyes. But it’s futile as I slam into her with all three fingers, stretching her. I start forcing her higher and higher with her climax, but I’m not prepared for her to cave just yet. I don’t want her to come the first time tonight like that. I want her sitting on me fully when she does that.

  So, as I feel her preparing to let go, I pull all of my fingers out of her and leave her empty and without quite hitting that blissful state of fucking nirvana that seemed so promising only a few seconds ago. Gently, I place my hands either side of her, positioning her so I can guide my solid cock into her. As my tip slips in, I watch as her long luscious fingers wrap around the table and her eyes close as she evens her breathing. I hear that noise again, that deep, lustful moan as she takes this, takes me. I can only see the side of her face, but what I see is turning me on. It's with that moment of bravery that I place my hands on her hips and drag her backward, forcing her to take my full length in her ass. I look down as I disappear in her and she lets out a small mew.

  I release my grip on her hips, and lean forward, still buried within her, and reach to grab her hair. Her hands release their grip, falling flat on the tabletop as she struggles to look at me from the corner of her eye.

  "How does that feel, little wolf? Ever felt fullness like that?" I ask her, and I can see she's unable to respond. "Want more?"

  With a bite of her lip, she nods silently in response. Aside from grunting, Ryleigh is taking this in her stride, allowing me to have my wicked way while she gives herself so easily to me. I want her to scream out, I want to hear my name on her lips, but she seems unable to say anything, only releasing the most animalistic of noises.

  So, I release her hair, retake her by the hips, and start to withdraw from within her. I watch, waiting for her palms to be flat on the table before I thrust back into her with such force her back arches and she lets out a louder noise, this time the pleasure notably there. As I withdraw once more, faster and with more haste, I thrust back so quickly that skin connects with skin, the sound like a sonic boom in our newfound relationship. I work her hard, pushing her with force to her climax. As she hits that orgasmic state, I continue to rock in and out of her, showing her that one orgasm won't do. Even as my own comes, I don’t stop. I become harsher, harder, unforgiving on her ass.

  When my orgasm wanes, I pull her from the table a little, still buried balls deep in her. I reach around her, my hand brushing against her light speckling of pubic hair, pushing further down until my finger sweeps across her clitoris. She gasps in delight, and I pull out of her, slamming back into her firmly. I feel her legs give a little, but I keep her standing up. Her hands come out to clamp around the table edge while one of my hands plays with her clit, the other keeps a firm grip on her shoulder.

  “Fuck,” she swears, the word breathless. “Dante,” she murmurs, throwing her head back.

  I pull her backward; her back arched beautiful so I can kiss her cheek. My hand leaves her shoulder but only to clamp around her body like a vice.

  “I can’t,” she stutters. “Oh God,” she groans, and I feel her body sink into its newest orgasm.

  I laugh, enjoying listening to her submit to me and my cock. She’s trying her hardest, but she’s succumbing to my will all over again. I rock my hips, thrusting into her with the same pace, never breaking stride until my second orgasm explodes. As she becomes unbidden to the end of her peak at heaven, she collapses a little weak from the sexual torment.

  I withdraw, not ready to give up on this. I remove the condom, not willing to use it any longer. T1he others are in reach, but I’m not going to need it for the next round. Turning her on the spot, she looks up at me, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes hooded as they search mine. I don’t know what possesses me, but I lean in, kissing her drunkenly. No woman’s body has ever felt so perfect against mine with the post-sex glow. The air hangs heavily around us, the heat suffocating, but I can’t end this right now. Like the greedy man I confess to being, I want more.

  I put my arms around her, picking her up, my hands sitting on her ass, and place her on the edge of the table. I keep myself between her legs, forcing them to remain wide.

  “Lay down flat.”

  She does as I say, laying flush against the table. I lift her legs up, forcing them over my shoulder as I drag her forward until my mouth is inches away from her cunt. I look over her aching body at her, grinning wildly before I go in for my first hungry lick.

  The very moment my tongue slips inside of her I feel her knees automatically come together. I reach up, pushing them apart, my grip tight on her. As I pick up a pace, my hands slip down her thighs until I’m gripping onto her at the top of her legs, pulling her in closer. I drag a new orgasm from her, indulging in the moans she elicits as I continue to stroke my tongue along her folds before licking at her core once more.

  With my eyes closed, I enjoy her taste, take satisfaction in the sounds she emits, and use them to push her further. I’m fucking nuzzling her cunt and she’s giving more than I ever thought possible. Her fingers thread into my hair, holding on tight, and the pain is beautiful as it prickles across my scalp. She’s not getting any respite as her orgasms start to ripple into one another and I know that she’ll be completely exhausted by the end of the night.

  I’ll carry her out of here like a fucking gentleman, but it’ll be for this one night only.

  I finally part, drawing in my first real breath for a few minutes. I can taste her all over my lips and feel her cum on me. I drop her legs, leaving her sagged against the table, her breathing a pant as each new peak at ecstasy wears her down.

  I fall down, both hands coming to hold me up on either side of her head. I give her no chance to ponder what I’m about to do, I just capture her lips on mine and force her to taste what it is I just did. I regrettably drag myself away, keeping my eyes trained intently on her.

  “Do you taste how divine you taste on my lips, little wolf?” I ask her, kissing her again as if to aid the question. “You’re addictive.”

  A wicked little grin begins to tug on her lips, wanting to blossom into a full smile, but she resists.

  “Ready for another round?” I ask her, standing up, so I tower down over her naked body.

  “Yes,” she brings, bringing her hand down her body until her fingers catch her clit. “I could go all night.”

  On any other evening, I could too, but that post-match ache is starting to set into my limbs, the punches I took finally setting in. I could keep her up all night, stealing orgasm after orgasm, but I would much rather give her one final pounding before leaving this god-forsaken place.

  I snigger as I usher for her to shift backward across the table to the tabletop. As I watch her do so, I hope she feels the burn of the velvet material beneath her ass. I reach for that second condom, copying my earlier move to cover my length with the rubber.

  “Keep those legs parted,” I order, a warning tone to my words. “Don’t close that fucking delicious cunt off from me, cara.”

  I jump on the table, crawling toward her, her legs still split. I cover her body with mine, falling down only to kiss her. She deepens the kiss, so I decide to part, leaving her wanting. I fall back, sitting just before her, her legs split wide, her wet pussy waiting for my delicious assault.

  I slowly look down her body, taking in the scars that define her past, and I would do anything to bring the bastard who did this to her knees. From how faded they are, I know she was young, just like I
was. Her body grew around her survival markings, developing into this strong brunette who hasn’t let fear become a winning emotion. While most allow their past to define them in the worst ways, Ryleigh has become the epitome of strength. In the light of the day, she shows her scars and bares them for all to see.

  It’s one of the reasons I felt that intrinsic pull to her.

  It’s why I can’t just let her go.

  Not resisting any longer, I wrap my hands around her hips, and I see her watch me, her eyes cast over with that lustful look. I bring her forward, refusing to go easy on her now that she’s had her buildup, and I slam my cock into her with total penetration. My balls slap against her, and it forces her body backward. I eye up her breasts, watching them bounce as her body reacts. I start to tease her, withdrawing inch by inch to thrust straight back into her cunt. I'm clearly hitting that right spot because the way she gasps under my will tells me another orgasm will soon be mine for the taking.

  And just like that, our orgasms clash as one; I ejaculate and she clenches down upon me all at once. I struggle to continue thrusting this time, but only because my body is tiring from my victories of the evening.

  As I find my orgasm fading, I pull out enough to throw her leg over my body to allow me to collapse beside her. I discard of the full condom and give in to total exhaustion. My body is official spent; my muscles ache from the tiring exertion. I can tell from the way she rolls over to face me that I’ve destroyed her, too. She lies against me, her hand flat against my chest, her fingertips moving every so often to trail my tattoos and scars.

  There’s no need for anything right now; it’s just perfect as it is.

  “I could learn to love you,” I hear her whisper, kissing my chest delicately.

  “What did you just say?” I ask, my entire body becoming rigid. I move, pushing her away so I can sit up. “What the fuck did you just say, Ryleigh?”

  “Nothing,” she admonishes, wide-eyed and terrified. “I didn’t say anything.” Her eyes become unable to look at me as she gazes downwards. “It was stupid.”

  “Yeah, it fucking was,” I spit, leaving her on the table as I clamber off. That after-sex feeling is a distant memory already. I throw my hands into my hair, pushing clammy fingers through it. “Have you learned nothing?” I ask. My question is rhetorical as my anger lances through me like a heated sword. “What I’d love to do to girls like you, Ryleigh, is incomprehensible. I want to do the unthinkable to take you to the edge of regret.”

  “Show me,” she hedges, those deep hazel eyes of hers goading me. “Stop threatening me and show me. What’s the worst you could do to me?”

  She doesn’t know what she’s asking, but her eyes tell me she wants to know. All at once I do. I go to her, pinning her down against that pool table, my hand wrapped around her pretty little – breakable – neck. She looks at me, and an ebb of fear finally makes an appearance, but she doesn’t fight me.

  I lick my lips as delicious intent begins to wrap around me. My anger diminishes into something else, something far more dangerous. If she means it, then she better be fucking ready for this because I want to see that fear rush into her gaze now more than ever. I want to hear that final breath resist leaving her body as I clench my hand tighter around her neck. I want her to realize just how dangerous following me into hell was for her.

  “You don’t know what you’re daring me to do here, cara.” I use the moment to push a little harder, infringing on her personal space. “You don’t want to test a man who’s on the brink of doing the unthinkable.”

  “Then fucking do it!” she bellows, initiating me to react.

  As her threat burrows into my soul, I move upwards, covering her body more. I move so quickly that she lets out a quiet mew of surprise as I lean in close, intensifying this moment. Now shrouded in shadows, I watch more intently for the look she fixes me with. I wait to see it change as my hand climbs over her body, grazing over every piece of her until my hand readies to envelop her pristine throat. My lips twitch into a small grin, adrenaline begins to leak into my system, and I press my hand closer to her skin, my fingers waiting to cause pressure.

  As my fingers begin to dig deeper, I lean in closer, my body pressed to hers, suffocating her more than I’m ready to. Her hands don’t come up to my hand; she’s not yet fighting me off. My cheek hits hers, lips poised by her ear as I emit a tiny chuckle.

  “You’ll regret ever meeting me, Ryleigh. I’ll always carry that sentiment.”

  Now, I see that fear as I draw away from her. As if she could ever think I would choose the love of a woman over seeing the life leave someone’s eyes.

  As if she could ever think she could make me love her.

  “I always wanted to strangle a girl while I was buried deep within them, Ryleigh. Think of that sort of climax,” I whisper, listening to her struggle beneath my grip. “I’d have you on the cusp of death all while an orgasm begged to be released and then all at once, I’d give you it all... pleasure and life.”

  I release her fully.

  While she chokes to gain oxygen back, I walk off, willing to pace.

  "I was always told I’m the shadows that lurk at night, those demons that prey on dreams. The villains we're taught to fear in fairy tales. I am the man not made for love. I am a man working his way to an unfulfilling future. My upbringing taught me I was meant to be nothing but a bloodthirsty monster. Destiny, so far, has been correct, so why change that?"

  My body is marked with scars of mistreatment at the hands of the man who raised me, the reason I know no love. He’s spun tales of my past, romanticized the details, and made me believe every finely chosen detail, but I, now, know otherwise. I know his involvement, and I’m keeping him sweet until I get my chance for retribution.

  But that doesn’t change the one thing I know for certain – I won’t ever be able to love, won’t ever be able to wholly care, and I won’t ever have a future with a woman who threatens everything.

  Her hand comes to sit against my bloodstained face. Her touch is gentle with ease and empty of fear; her eyes grant me a sympathy I never thought I wanted and had always cowered from. Her lips part momentarily, posing ready for words.

  "Because sometimes destiny is meant to be broken, Dante."

  "Not mine," I tell her, shaking my head as I look away.

  "Most definitely yours," she remarks, her voice a little hoarse.

  “Why are you so hell-bent on sticking by me?” I ask her, cocking a brow as I stand before her. “Nothing will come of what we’re doing.”

  “Too much will come of this,” she retorts, veiled threats in her words. “You and I were cut from the same cloth. You can’t see it now, but you will, and when you do, you’ll be the one begging for me.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, completely breaking the moment. “I’ll call for a cab to pick you up. You can wait for my call.”

  My words are met with my atrocious actions as I leave her sitting on the pool table, stark naked and spent. I abandon her with every article of clothing I put back on and I don’t care to look at her. I’ve led her in the wrong direction from what I ever wanted and it’s time I prevented us from traveling any further down it.

  Corruption is beauty. It's a freeing of your soul that you cannot resist. Like carnal temptation begging you to sin for that very first time. That's what Ryleigh is to me – a delicious sin with a beating heart so loud I feel as if I've found my siren.

  I don’t want to listen to her song, but she’s weakening me without me even knowing and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to resist.

  I should hate her, should remember why we started this, but all I can think of is the reason she was brought into my life in the first place. For once, I believe in destiny’s grand plan for me – and well, I guess, Ryleigh, too.

  I allowed myself to start falling; now it’s time I cull it once and for all.

  10RYLEIGH

  He was like everyone else.

  And I was like
every other lovesick fool that let her heart win.

  I had cried over him. The humiliation he doused me in after he fucked me dry was something I had never felt before. He took me against that pool table, forced orgasm upon glorious orgasm from me, and I screwed it up. I don’t know what possessed me, but I hate myself for it. I hate that I damaged what it was we were building together.

  I don’t know how to do this properly. I’ve never been shown, never felt it. I just went on a whim with what I felt in my heart; I just didn’t expect to fuck everything up so royally.

  In the end, he used me for sex and I used him to find a piece of myself – only he appeared to gain more than I had. He fucked me when he wanted because I was all too willing. The idea of bleeding a part of me dry by standing by his side mesmerized me. He offered me power and a release; I offered him the same, but they were of differing qualities.

  Everything has changed too violently since then. It’s been two days since I was taken off the work schedule, and I know it’s because he wants to avoid me at all costs. I had no shifts at the shop with Jodi, I was yet to even start there, and Jackson didn’t know that the relationship between Dante and me – if you could call it that – had already blown up in my face, just as he’d known it would.

  I could complain, but I remained locked away in my apartment, all curtains drawn closed. I didn’t want to face the light of the day because, with that, I had to face my actions and all its shattering consequences. I knew I had destroyed what we had, but I just didn’t want to face it. So being shut away like this meant that my life was on total pause while the world continued on just the other side of the walls.

  I wonder what he would think of this Ryleigh Turner. No one knows of her but my reflection. I carry a warrior pose around with me everywhere I go, but behind closed doors, when I’m all alone, I crumble. I so want to be the girl everyone meets, but it’s a tiring facade to keep up.

  I walk across the room, prepared to get more wine. I’ve seen the bottom of multiple bottles in the past forty-eight hours but had culled myself hours ago to a few glasses. Now I’ve sat mulling over everything, and I feel the need to numb myself. I stumble as my foot catches my bag; alcohol suppressing my response time sees me crashing to the floor.