Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

DANTE

H er blonde hair is tucked up into a sinful little number I’d love to tousle, and her blue eyes are darkening as the moments pass and lust leaks into them, but her fucking scent is something out of this world.

“Don’t call me things in a language I don’t understand,” she says.

“Mm, why?” I breathe her in, damn near pressing my nose through her fucking skin at this point as she white-knuckles the sink.

“Because it’s rude.”

I can’t help the dark chuckle that rumbles out of me and grazes her skin, causing it to ripple, goosebumps breaking out like a sheet of tiny sensors. “Minaccia, I’ve been called many things. Rude is definitely included amongst them, and it’s never bothered me in the slightest,” I tell her.

What would she do if she knew the word meant menace ?

She’d probably curse at me or throw one of those sharp shoes she’s balancing on at my head.

“You need to back up and keep your hands to yourself,” she says, finding the strength I, myself, can’t even muster and straightening her body in front of me.

Her plump ass pulls away from my cock that’s begging me to shred her skirt, and I nearly whine at the loss.

“And why is that, minaccia?”

My hand splays against the nape of her neck, where a beautiful flush is gathering. My hand envelopes her dainty neck from behind, tattoos looking darker against the ivory tone of her skin. The black rose tattooed on my hand stretches and tugs as I squeeze and release the pressure a few times, listening as the little menace’s breathing hitches and gathers in her chest with each movement.

“Please, stop,” she says, and I can’t help the ice that washes through my veins as I drop my hand, grabbing her hip so I can turn her to face me.

I spin her around, pressing her back into the sink, glaring down at her with my heart beating my ribs like a man trying to escape the darkest prison.

“Do you want me to stop, minaccia? Truly? Something tells me you don’t.”

She swallows, and I lift a finger to follow the highway of her throat.

She elongates it. “This can’t happen. We can’t.”

I don’t know if she’s telling me or herself.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt something like this. Since I buried my Anna in the ground that rainy day in April.

I thought for the longest time that I’d died with her. However, when I pushed into that room ahead of Slate and saw her standing there, I was more shocked than I was to see Brynne as the head of the Bianchi family syndicate. That made more sense than the reaction I had to this creature.

“Why can’t it?” I ask her, trying to stay present and not get lost in the tangle of everything I have bleeding through me.

“Because your boss is…”

“Currently fucking your boss,” I finish for her as I test my hand, wrapping around her slight throat, watching the same tattoo swallow it whole.

She doesn’t laugh, however. Her pupils blow wide, and her pretty little lips open and release a stilted moan I’ll remember for the rest of my fucking life, no matter where this moment goes from here.

“Dante, we can’t. This will complicate everything,” she reasons.

I’m still stuck on how she’d breathed my name, though.

“Say it again,” I plead, leaning forward and running my nose up her cheek, feeling the flutter of her eyelash against my lips as I dust them over her eye.

This is an obsession beginning.

Slate had told me how he’d felt wholly bewitched by Brynne the first time he spotted her in the woods, and I laughed at him. I made jokes about how shit like that doesn’t exist.

Even when I met Anna, I felt nothing to this magnitude. She and I had an attraction that grew over time, over a few meetings.

This isn’t that.

This is a beast that’s clawing through my brain and possessing me with each sweet breath she takes as my hand holds her throat.

“Dante,” she whimpers as I move my face back in line with hers, my lips hovering.

“Fuck, minaccia.” I close my eyes and breathe in time with her. “What are you?”

This makes her laugh, and the sound nearly makes me bloodthirsty. It kindles something in my chest that I thought was long gone, out of reach until I reunited with Anna in the afterlife.

She and I knew this life was dangerous, and we both made one another promise if one of us died, the other wouldn’t wallow. We promised one another we’d move on. In reality, however, that’s harder to do than one would think.

“What’s your name?” I ask her, and she attempts a chuckle again, though my hand has other ideas and tightens.

I back away from her, giving us both space to think clearly.

“Alyssa,” she breathes, voice choked.

I release her throat, and she follows my hand with her eyes as it drops back to the sink.

“Alyssa,” I whisper, “Are you wet for me, Alyssa?”

She licks her bottom lip, and I nearly reach up and grab her tongue, the taunting thing.

Despite the apparent war going on inside her chest, she nods.

Her pencil skirt is too tight to maneuver, but I use my right hand to unzip the side.

Her breathing becomes as erratic as wild horses in full canter as I slide the skirt over her curves to the floor, making a puddle around her ankles before she steps out of it, toeing it over to the side of us.

My body is in overdrive, my thinking unclear, and I know I should stop this. She’s right. This will create trouble. We don’t even know how we’ll go forward with both families together.

I don’t know if Slate has Brynne at gunpoint again downstairs, nor do I fucking care.

Not when Alyssa slides her panties to the side, baring her beautiful pussy to me so that I can check just how wet the little menace is at all my taunting.

I growl, unable to help myself, as I swipe two fingers through her drenched lips.

“Jesus, minaccia.” I barely get it out as my voice crackles with lust.

“Fuck,” she breathes, pulling her legs apart and bending her knees to open to me like a flower.

“So fucking perfect,” I say, swirling the tips of my fingers over her clit, leaning forward and drinking in her moans as her eyes grow heavy.

Her lips drop open, her pants of breath feeding my deranged soul.

Ardesia is going to give me so much shit for this. I might as well make it worth it.

I slowly slide my fingers toward her entrance, calculating, and Alyssa grows fevered. Her moans decorate the air surrounding us with the most ardent brushstrokes, coloring everything ruby.

“Please,” she whispers, nearly buckling me to her.

“Is this where you need me, minaccia?”

She nods, all of her reservations forgotten as I slide two fingers inside her wet, needy cunt and revel in the long, drawn-out moan she gives me in return.

I step closer to her, my lips hovering over hers, my body breathing her like a drug.

She inches closer, but I don’t give her what she wants. I back my lips away from hers, dancing in a taunting game of power with her.

“Dante, please,” she pleads, bucking on my fingers.

“More?” I ask her, thumbing her clit in winding circles as I pump in and out of her, her wetness soaking my hand the higher I take her.

“More,” she agrees, using her hands on the sink to lift onto it, spreading her legs to me as she perches on the edge.

Before I can think about what I’m doing, I free my aching, heavy cock, and she eats it up with her eyes.

She gasps as she takes in the two piercings at the head of it, and I give her a moment to look her fill.

She reaches a hand down, rubbing it over the piercings, where pre-cum is already beading. Her fingertip moves one of the bars slightly, and I groan, hips moving forward of their own volition.

“Do these hurt?” Her blue eyes flick back up to mine.

I shake my head. “Not now, no. You’re going to like them, minaccia, trust me.”

“What’s it called?”

I grin, and I know I look even more deranged as I do. “The Magic Cross.”

I jack my hand over my cock a couple strokes, teasing it, and she lets her hand grip back onto the sink as she readies herself.

A moment ago, I would’ve taken her hard and fast, but now I toy with her. I run the tip of me through her wetness, her heat caressing me as the piercings shift inside me. There’s a ball on each end of the bar, two on either side, and they bump along her already sensitive flesh.

“Holy shit, they feel good,” she says, hands gripping tight onto the sink as she lets her body go lax, head lolling back.

It’s so fucking hot to watch a strong woman who oozes independence let her inhibitions drop away, allowing you to take the reins of her pleasure.

It’s intoxicating, even.

“They’re going to feel even better soon, minaccia,” I tease, and she gasps as I tease my head through her entrance, letting the bars push and drag against her inner walls as I press in halfway and then tug back slowly.

“Dante, Jesus, are you trying to kill me?”

I chuckle. “No, beautiful, I’m trying to get you ready.”

“For what?”

“For the ride of your fucking life.”

The little beast sits up some on the sink, grabs my hips, and tugs me forward, her cunt gobbling up my dick as I’m pulled into her depths like a man dragged to the bottom of the ocean by a siren.

“Fuck, Alyssa, goddamnit!” I snarl with a moan that paints her perfect body as she moans partly in agreement and partly in conquest.

“That’s better. Now, fuck me, Dante. Stop playing around.”

I’m shocked, but for only a moment.

It seems I underestimated my opponent.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, tugging her body closer to the edge of the sink, where mine is the only thing holding her up, keeping her from falling to the tile below.

My thrusts grow frantic, and our cries become frenzied as we lose ourselves together, forgetting all the bullshit going on downstairs and both our loyalties.

It’s irresponsible, really, but neither of us seems to give a fuck.

I’m nearly there when she pushes me out of her, and my back hits the open door of the bathroom. “What the fuck?” I breathe as she hops down, removes her top, and bends over the sink, her perfect ass on display as she waggles it back and forth.

“Deeper,” she pleads, her hand sliding down to rub her clit as I rush to listen to her demand.

“Anything you want, minaccia.”

Anything you fucking want.