“He’s not my grandfather,” Dante says, draining my glass before falling onto the barstool opposite me. I push the bottle closer, almost as a bid to force him to drink and confess. “He lost the right to be that.”
“Talk to me,” I say, remaining relaxed. “You have far more scars, fresher scars, than what would’ve been from your childhood. Some I can assume are from fights and working for your grandfather, but some…” I look over the small circular scars of what I can only assume were cigarette burns. They run their course down the side of his chest and are easily covered when his arms are down, but when he’s topless, I notice them immediately. “What did he do to you, Dante?”
Moving forward, Dante looks exactly how you expect defeat to look if it a person incarnate. He knows I’m aware of more than he’s divulged because he knows I’m not stupid. I saw a lot growing up, but I need to hear it from his mouth so I can use it to our advantage.
“He used to abuse me,” Dante admits. While he did so freely, the tone he used is twisted and filled with pain fill. “From when I can first remember, it’s all I ever knew. My body is marked with scars of mistreatment at the hands of the man who raised me and called it love,” Dante starts, his body hunched over on itself. “He always told me it would make me stronger and make me less likely to fail at what he had planned for me. He used to always tell me the same thing, a teaching I guess ran in the family.” He looks tortured but unwilling to stop quite yet. “A weak man may conquer a small army with words, but a strong man wins them over with actions.”
“He built the Valens up that way,” I assume, trailing off.
“That’s right.” Dante agrees, and his gaze bravely meets mine. “All I’ve done all my life has made sure I am the perfect heir.”
“What about what you do on the side?”
“What about it?” he asks, shrugging. “He doesn’t know and any cunt who becomes a snitch finds out all too well what becomes of them. They know not to go behind my back. They’ve seen the depravity I’m willing to reap.”
“Bloodier the better, right?”
“You remember that?” Dante asks, a wicked look taking command of his features.
“You handed a man his own cock. I’m not going to block that from my memory easily,” I say, jesting some in the hopes it’ll make the air lose some tension. I see the look he fixes me with and it causes me to roll my eyes. “I’m not going to suddenly become squeamish about blood because you said the ‘L’ word to me. I’m not able to do that, not when I’ve had blood on my hands, Dante.”
“Where have you been hiding my entire life?” he asks, shocking me.
His eyes watch me in awe, unable to tear away from my face, and I suddenly feel vulnerable under his gaze. He’s not scrutinizing me, he adores me, and it’s something I can’t quite get used to. This man really does love me, and I don’t need words to see that. The way he looks at me tells me a thousand words he could never speak.
“Waiting for you to find me,” I tell him, slipping from my stool. I approach him, standing between his legs, allowing his arms to envelop my waist while my own snake around his neck. “Just like you were waiting for me to find you.”
“I can’t let him win,” Dante replies as if I’ve enabled him to be completely honest. “He can’t beat us.”
“He won’t.”
“He’s spun tales of my past, romanticized and made me believe every finely chosen detail, but I know otherwise. I know his involvement, and now I have you to avenge. I’m keeping him sweet until I get my chance for retribution.” He looks at me with a haunting look; his dubious nature seems to be all too prevalent lately. “You’ll have to keep him sweet until that point.”
“You don’t have to tell me what I already know.” I smirk at the thought, at finally getting the closure I’ve sought for years. “Just take the lead and I’ll be there.”
“But that’s what is holding me back,” he admits and finally releases, letting me go. He pushes past me, resuming his anxious pacing. “Having you by my side, waiting for my command, scares me.”
“We discussed this,” I say, following him. “I can handle what we’re doing. I’m not precious cargo. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“But you haven’t seen it all,” he argues, a wild look in his eyes. “This world is poison. It will hurt you in order to hurt me. This world will poison you against me.”
I grab his face and his stubble grazes my palms, but I force him to look at me, to watch me as I fight for him. The man I fell for needs to come back to me. He needs to believe in me as he once did. Nothing has changed apart from the dynamics of us, but even then, we’re still the same people.
“The only poison I ever allowed to hurt me in this world was you, and I survived. The rest of your world hasn’t met me yet.” I take a steady breath, feeling my urge to fight for Dante. “Now, I need you to stop this. Don’t let our love destroy you, Dante. The man I met, the man I fell for rose to every challenge. Now is your chance. Please, don’t allow now to be the time you lose your fight. Not when I need you more now than ever,” I plead, arguing with him to regain his composure and faith. “I know that allowing me to be by your side weakens you. I realize that you are breaking a lot of your own boundaries to love me but love me right and keep me safe at the same time. You can do that. You’ve been doing it,” I say, feeling my fury raging. “Stop this fucking nonsense about me being in danger. I am not afraid to protect myself.”
“You do weaken me,” he admits, echoing my prior words. “I’m finding it a little hard to adjust to this.”
“Well, adjust, asshole,” I say, tossing out his nickname from our first meeting. “This world is about to blow up.” I give him a smirk, allowing my hands to fall a little so I’m caressing his jaw. “It’s time we entered the real world, don’t you think?”
I watch him ponder the thought, looking unwilling.
“Dante,” I quip, my voice darkening. “It’s either you do it with me or I go full force without you.”
“Like fuck I’d let you go alone!” he exclaims, showing some signs he’s still there.
“Then fucking snap out of it!” I argue, throwing my hands up in the air. “Please, for the love of God, come back to me!”
And just like that, he does.
My back hits the wall behind me and all the air leaves my lungs as Dante pins me to the wall. He breathes heavily upon me, the heat rising, and I wonder what it is he’s thinking. His eyes roam down my face, down my scantily clad body, before coming back up.
“You want me back?” he asks and I nod, silently pleading with him. “Do you want me back in full force?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my breathing heavier with the anticipation dripping into my veins. “So badly.”
“Then I have to give you my complete and all before I deal with any fuckers outside of this apartment,” he begins to tell me. “I get my footing back with you, how you fucking love me most, and it’s easy running from here on out.”
“I love the way you love me, Dante,” I tell him. “The good, the bad, the fucking awful. I love all of it, I love all of you, but I need you to come back to me fighting and not worrying. They see that about you and they’ll use it against us. I need you to come back to me before you fight for us.”
“What do you say, cara?” he asks me, his darkened eyes settling upon me. “How do I come back?”
“By doing your worst,” I tell him, grinning a little at using that old threat. “I’m all yours.”
“Good answer,” he utters, pressing a heavy kiss to my lips. I moan against him, but he hardens the assault. “I just need enough of you to dull the pain," he murmurs between the kisses he’s pressing to my neck. “Just enough to allow me to breathe. I just need enough of you to make me not think too much.”
He’s a beaten warrior looking for someone to love every beautiful scar. I never knew I was capable of being that person, being that someone, being the woman he’d fall in love with. I never knew I would be someone’s e
pitome of strength, but I’ve found a reason to fight, a reason to believe, and I found it all by listening to my heart.
Distracted by his lips, I hardly notice Dante’s hand forcing itself down the front of my panties, brushing against me until he manages to slip two fingers in me. I gasp out, shocked that he’s moving things hastily, but I understand when I see his face. The strong will he was losing is back. His urge to demand and conquer is back, and as he strokes my clit and pulls his fingers out, I see the first step of that is to conquer me. I keep my eyes trained fully on him, but soon I can feel myself beginning to go weak-kneed as my orgasm builds against his strokes.
“Don’t you dare come yet, little wolf,” he tells me, that demeanor that won me over coming back in strides. He clearly notices how I’m unraveling in his arms. “Not yet.”
My breathing labors as I fight the urge to let ecstasy ravage me. I feel the burn start in me, but I fight it, telling myself the reward will be dazzling. I want nothing more than to give in to Dante, but I tell myself to obey.
“Go over to the couch,” he says, drawing his hand out from the front of my panties.
I listen, the ache I try to deny eases, but I know my body wants to give in. I know my body wants to come to the onslaught of pleasure it endured, but with every step I take, the urge dissipates. Dante grabs my arm, spinning me around on the spot.
“I only needed to get you from A to B, little wolf,” he says, again using the sentimental nickname. It tells me he’s dominating and I willingly let him. “Now we’re here,” he utters, his hand coming to cup my ass again as the other travels down the front of my panties. “We can resume.”
He lays me on the couch, his hand still firmly pressed underneath my panties, his fingers buried deep within me. He rubs my clitoris softly, dragging back that pleasurable burn of my orgasm, awakening it once more.
“It’s a good thing you’re wearing lace,” he mutters, his fingers of his free hand curling around the side of my panties.
With a tug, I hear the tear, and with another, they come completely apart at the seam. He drags the tattered mess down my leg, leaving them part way down my thigh. I’m trying to steady myself, trying to calm my overbearing wish to come around his fingers. The tugging caused him to push deeper and without him knowing it, caused him to hit my g-spot perfectly.
“You feel the full length of my fingers, don’t you?” he asks me, and I can only nod. “Good.”
He moves his hand so he cups my pussy, two fingers firmly inserted into my hot, wet core ready to do their worst. I can see the tiniest of smirks beginning to play on his lips as he watches me powerless beneath his power. He leans forward, his fingers pushing into me even more. While I mew in pleasure, he steadies himself with a hand on the back of the couch. He starts to toy with me, moving them within me, drawing them out a little to push them in further.
“You haven’t ever felt it like this, little wolf,” he muses, dominating me beautifully.
I try to respond, but he pulls his fingers out and my eyes roll back as his thumb rolls over my clit. As his hand withdraws, I feel Dante slip another finger in, and my insides stretch, adjusting to his beautiful assault. At first, I hated how gentle he was being and how slowly the buildup was, but all at once, he leans in closer to me, and I don’t understand why until his speed accelerates and I barely have a chance to draw a new breath as he slams his fingers in and out of me. He pounds his hand into my pussy, slipping in an extra finger, upping the intensity with every forceful thrust of his hand against me. I feel myself begin to come unbidden as he grunts with force, slamming his hand into me. I buck my hips as I feel him slip his thumb in and realize he has command of me completely. I try to withhold, endure the pleasure he’s forcing upon me, but I lose complete control. I begin to fall, my every muscle trembling as he continues to fist me, smacking my g-spot to force me to become weak for him. Which I do willingly because I feel as I’ve lost all control to him again and he knows it. As he pulls his hand from my pussy, rubbing his fingers across my folds and clitoris violently, I feel myself squirt. He assaults my pussy, forcing more pleasure from me than I ever knew possible, and a new orgasm rips through me like wildfire. I suddenly find it hard to catch my breath as heat tears my body apart. Dante continues to work my body, my orgasms barely stopping him. I have no control over it, and the laughter that Dante gives in to tells me he likes what I just did for him.
“That was the single most hottest thing you’ve done for me all week,” he mutters, pushing one of my legs toward me so he can sit down. He’s breathless too but looking entirely smug. “After that, I could really go off for this job now.”
“If I knew sex was the answer, then I’d have given myself to you ages ago,” I say, giggling even with my breathlessness. I fall back down onto the cushions and throw my hands above my head in exasperation. I’m finding it hard to come down from this.
“That’s not the best part,” he says, and I look up in time to see him licking his fingers. “The taste is even better.”
“Dante,” I groan, kicking him playfully. “You’re fucking incorrigible.”
“Maybe so,” he says, shrugging.
“You like to give it to me differently every time,” I mutter, somewhat tiredly. “You’re never the same each time. I can never be ready for what you’re going to give.”
“There’s a reason to that.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll learn the different stages I like to fuck you,” he teaches me. He’s sitting with one of my legs tossed over his lap, the other bent against his body, as I remain lying in the position he pushed me to with my last climax. “You get sweet and loving in the morning, maybe in the middle of the night when I wake up hard as fuck and needy. You get greedy, hungry sex when we’re planning a hit, getting ready for a hit, and while on a hit…while the anticipation is burning us both.”
“And after a hit?” I ask, playing it innocently.
He laughs sardonically, his eyes dropping a little before he sets a predatory gaze on me.
“That’s my favorite,” he remarks, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “You get rough, rugged, hard sex that will leave your body numb, your cunt sore, and your skin covered in love bites to remind you of every place I’ve touched. It’ll be endless rounds of...”
“You being a dominating asshole?” I ask, finally sitting up. I smirk as he looks at me shocked before he eases into a laugh. “Just so you know, you won’t be the only one running the show anymore. There will be days when I have my wicked way with you, and you’ll wonder what all those hussies were doing wrong before me.”
“I know what they were doing wrong,” he says, pulling me up to straddle his waist. He plays with the hem of my camisole, taking his sweet time to pull it over my body. He places hands on my hips, pulling me forward to kiss across my clavicle. “They weren’t willing enough,” he says, kissing lower. “They weren’t corrupted enough,” he comments, kissing lower, kissing my breast. “They weren’t beautifully scarred enough,” he continues, now setting his lips on my nipple. He kisses it, flicking his tongue at it, eliciting a mew of pleasure from me. “And they weren’t fucking freak enough to ever satisfy me.”
“Freak enough?” I ask, cocking my brow.
“You’d let me lead you to temptation, mia regina,” he says, sitting back against the couch, his hands resting on my hips. “You’d let me drag you wherever I wanted and you’d give it to me however hard or fast I wanted to. You just squirted for me. How many men have ever made you do that?”
I bite my lip, looking away impishly. “None.”
“Exactly,” he says, and now I’m starting to hear the cocky bastard that I love to hate and hate to love. “You trusted me with your body even when I promised to destroy you. You let me do things to you that no other man can because you know I’ll never do anything you won’t love.” He now removes his hands from my hips, but I can tell he’s not done. “And just so you know,” he says, slapping his hands down on either side of my
ass, causing me to buck up against him. “That ass needs some loving again. I miss watching how it devours my cock.”
I giggle.
“Is that part now?” I ask, hoping I’ll get more than a finger fuck. “That was fun, but finger banging is only foreplay.”
“No, I fisted you, little wolf. A finger bang is too easy, too delicate. You got my entire fist in your pussy. That was total fucking penetration,” he tells me, cocking a brow. “Plus, I might be hard as fuck now, but wait until you feel me later. You won’t know what’s hit you.”
As much as I want to giggle, I can’t. I pout, crossing my arms over my chest and pushing my boobs up. He works my body into a frenzy, fisting me senseless and leaving me without feeling his cock in me. Something’s not quite fair here.
“I want to take you on the coffee table, Ryleigh. I want you against the dresser on the side, on the kitchen floor, and on the granite countertops, but we have business to attend to, and I want to see if I’m broken or not.”
“You’re not broken,” I tell him, framing his face once more with my hands. “Never broken. Just deliciously infuriating.” I throw his head back and start to climb off him. “Sexual denial is not fun.”
“Now you know how I feel!” he exclaims, chortling. “But trust me, mia regina. If tonight goes how I plan for it, then you’ll be wishing for just a finger bang.”
I roll my eyes, laughing at him as I walk away from him.
“Fucking finger bang,” he mutters, still laughing to himself as I disappear into the bedroom.
***
“You ready to do some killing?” he asks, looking up from his phone.
I bite down on my lip. Anticipation sizzles through my veins, burning away any nerves.
He smirks. “The way you bite down on your lip, mia regina, tells me more than your words ever could.” He grabs me, pulling me tightly against his body. My hand falls to his chest, pressed between our bodies, and I can feel how hard his heart is pumping behind its bony cage. “Tonight, I reclaim my place. No more hiding, no more moping, no more weakness.”
Trigger (Pericolo #3) Page 27
