Chapter 9: Bloody Heart: Chapter 9

Dante’s lost his mind.

He throws me down on the chaise, not caring that this chair is over two hundred years old and never built for someone his size, let alone both of us.

He pushes up his mask so I can see his face, but that’s hardly any better.

He looks crazed. His eyes are blazing. His jaw an iron bar of tension.

His lips attack mine. He bites my lips, he shoves his tongue in my mouth, sucking the breath from my lungs. His hands are all over me. I hear fabric tearing and I don’t care in the slightest. I want his hands on my body, on my bare flesh.

He grabs my breasts and squeezes them.

Any boy who touched me before did it gently, hesitantly, always asking for permission.

Dante takes what he wants. He takes money, guns, and most of all, me. There’s no law on this earth he won’t break. And he sure as hell doesn’t care about social convention.

So I’m not surprised by how he acts.

I’m surprised by how I respond to it.

My body longs for it. It wants more and more and more. It doesn’t matter how roughly his hands grope and grab and squeeze. My flesh throbs, but the pleasure is so much more intense than the pain.

I’m grinding against him, feeling his rock-hard cock trapped between his belly and my thigh.

I’m terrified of that cock. I probably should have practiced with one that was smaller, softer, more reasonable . . .

It’s too late now. Practicing and waiting are at an end. Dante is taking what he wants tonight. And I want to give it to him.

He rips my panties, tearing them off my waist. He shoves his fingers inside of me. Even that is hard to take. I’m wet and I’m eager, but every muscle in my body is tight, anxious, desperate.

He lets his cock loose and it hits my hip, heavy and hot.

He grabs it, lining it up with my pussy instead.

He pushes the head between my lips. It feels impossibly thick and extremely warm. Much warmer than his fingers or even his tongue.

I’m trembling with nerves. I would say something, but he’s still kissing me, filling my mouth with his tongue. All I can do is wrap my arms around his neck, close my eyes, and hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

Dante grabs my hips in his hands and pulls me toward him. His cock pushes inside of me, an inch at a time.

It does hurt. It hurts a whole fucking lot, actually. And it seems to get worse the deeper he goes.

Even though his cock is so smooth, it’s scraping me raw inside. Shoving and burrowing all the way up. I cry out into his mouth, biting down hard on his lip.

Still, he keeps going. With shallow thrusts, he keeps pushing it all the way inside, until our bodies are tight together, no space between us anymore.

It’s too much. I really can’t stand it.

And yet . . . it feels good, too.

His body heat fills me inside and out. The heavy head of his cock rubs against a spot deep inside me. A spot I didn’t even know existed. That little bit of flesh is a button of pleasure, similar to my clit. It throbs and swells at the slightest touch.

Dante is barely moving. His cock slides in and out only an inch. The head rubs against that spot, teasing it.

I’m getting wetter and wetter. That helps his cock to slide. I don’t know if the wetness is blood or just lubrication. I don’t care. It allows Dante to pull his cock in and out a little more, so I can rock my hips against him, and he can flex the huge slabs of muscle on his back and ass, driving into me even deeper.

Our mouths are locked together. I’m clinging to him. I’ve never been entwined with another person like this.

We’re hot from dancing. Hot with emotion and desire. He’s sweating a little. It makes him smell intensely good. I stop kissing him for a second so I can lick the side of his neck, tasting salt and his own personal scent.

I grip the lobe of his ear between my teeth and I bite down. Dante growls, turning his head to suck on the side of my neck.

I’ve never seen a man like Dante. Never felt this raw strength and power.

Some primal part of my brain tells me that I NEED him. I need him inside me, even deeper than this.

“Harder,” I moan in his ear.

Dante buries his cock all the way inside of me. I feel his back flexing, his muscles working. It drives me insane with arousal.

“Harder,” I groan.

His thick arms are wrapped all the way around me. He’s squeezing me so tight that I’m afraid he’s going to crack my ribs, snap my spine. Still, I want more.

“Harder, Dante, please!”

With a beastly roar, he erupts inside of me. I feel pulse after pulse of that thing I was craving—that thick, hot fluid.

I’m cumming, too. I didn’t even know I was going to. But the psychological arousal of him cumming inside of me has pushed me over the edge. The orgasm comes from deep, deep inside—from that little sensitive spot that can feel the twitching of his cock, the fluid spurting out of him.

I’m squeezing and grinding and cumming just as he is, eyes closed, and my face buried in his neck.

Then it’s over, and he’s pulling out of me, warm liquid running down the inside of my thigh.

Without his cock filling that space, I feel empty and raw inside. I don’t dare look at the mess we made. I just pull down my skirt.

Dante is panting, not looking quite as wild now, but not quite sane again either.

He kisses me again, slowly and deeply this time.

“Are you alright?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I say, panting too.

“Did it hurt too much?”

“A little. Not too much.”

I kiss him, tasting the arousal in his breath. Each exhale is moist and warm, still faster than normal.

“I love you, Simone,” he says, his dark eyes boring into mine. “I know it’s only been a month—”

“I love you, too,” I tell him quickly. “I don’t care how long it’s been. This thing between us—”

“It’s not normal,” Dante says. “I love you like . . . like I’d destroy anything that tried to come between us. Like I’d burn the whole world down if I had to.”

His eyes keep hold of mine. I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away. I only want to nod.

“I know,” I say.

“I want you. Nothing else,” he says.

“You have me. All of me.”

“Promise me, Simone.”

“I’m yours. Till the day I die.”

He smiles and presses his heavy lips on mine.

“I want you longer than that,” he growls.

I was never raised to fall in love like this. Without reason or choice. Only wild, intense obsession.

I never meant for this to happen.

But now that it has, there’s no escaping.

I belong to Dante. And he belongs to me.