Suddenly his mouth is on mine. He kisses me cruelly, almost painfully, his tongue choking me, his hips grinding into me. My purse hits the crushed stone of the driveway. My brain takes a second to catch up, even though my body is perfectly aware of what’s happening. My nipples tingle, my core going tight as his other hand goes behind my head, holding me in place. I couldn’t get out of his grip if I wanted to.Maybe that’s why I kiss him back.
Or maybe it’s just the lust I can’t fight a second longer.
A lush ache commands me to press my hips into his, seeking some relief from the discomfort between my legs. The wind is even fiercer now, driving the cold, stinging rain over us both—but the lingering warmth of the Jag’s engine and the heat of Dante’s body on top of me make me burn. He pushes his hips insistently against me, pressing me against the hood of the car, the feel of his hard length drawing a harsh breath out of me. This is all happening so fast.My mind spins as if I’m drunk.
Every single touch makes it worse, like shots of tequila going straight to my inhibitions and breaking them down one by one. I hate him. Gone. I despise him. Gone. I’m going to fight what his touch does to me. Gone, gone, gone.
He pulls back, shoving my skirt up so it bunches around my waist, taking me off guard a second time. I can’t help but spread my legs wide as he grinds against me again, even though I’m battling my body’s urges, desperately trying to resist what I know is coming: I’m going to give in to him and love every second of it. My body is going to betray me just like it did on my wedding night, heedless of the fact that Dante was using me solely for his own pleasure as I came again and again around his cock.
He takes his hand off my throat and thrusts it down the front of my underwear, crudely palming my mound, his fingers digging into my sensitive flesh. I push against him to suss out more of the delicious sensations coursing through me, a moan escaping my throat. It seems to flame him on. Dante streaks his fingers over my center, dragging his fingertips along my seam, and then he cups me again, hard. Bruising.
I take a full breath of air right before he rips my underwear down. The elastic cuts into the sides of my thighs, sticking to my wet skin, and then the fabric gives way in his impatient hand. My pussy is bared to him now, wet and ready and waiting. Meanwhile the sun has deserted us, leaving behind a shaded gloom. The sound of his zipper is muted against the wind, but it’s unmistakable what he’s doing.
His cock is out, hard and proud as he shoves my right leg up around his hip, driving into me with one possessive thrust. I cry out, my head lolling back as he wraps my other leg around him. Then he gets straight to work, fucking me hard and deep, the entire car bouncing with the force of his jackhammering. I cling to him, letting him ride me. My fingers clenched in his hair, my eyes shut against the falling rain.
Another storm begins to build, this one inside of me. Each thrust pushes me closer, somehow rubbing me just right, to the point where I’m hardly aware of the raindrops running into my hairline and clinging to my lashes. I can’t stop my moans, coming faster and louder now as his hips pound into my inner thighs, his cock filling me, claiming me.
Possessing me.
I come right as a crack of thunder rips overhead. I barely hear it, I’m so consumed by the sensation of the orgasm taking over my entire body. My scalp tingles, my pulse rushes with the pleasure, stars shoot behind my clenched lids…it’s so strong that Dante’s release doesn’t even register with me. I only know he’s done because I realize that I’m suddenly very, very cold.
Sitting up, I see that Dante has zipped up and moved away. I wipe the rain from my eyes and try to gather myself as violent chills assail my body. I’m shaking so badly that I’m not sure my legs will support me if I try to stand up off the car. My knees feel like jelly, my arms weak.
Dante takes off his soaked suit jacket and comes over to me, wrapping it around my shoulders as he helps me up. The lining inside is mostly dry, the warmth and masculine scent of it enveloping me. I tug my skirt back down and pick my purse up off the driveway, touched and a little surprised by his kind gesture.
Who would have thought myhusband had a single tender nerve in him to actually extend some chivalry like this? Especially to me, the wife he claims as nothing more than property.
Just then, a light shines from his cell phone, aimed at the car. He leans over, ignoring me, running his hand over the hood where we just fucked. The warmth in my chest dissipates as I realize he’s checking for any dents we may have left behind. He hadn’t been concerned about me one bit.
Hugging myself, the jacket’s too-long sleeves hanging past my fingertips, I stomp my way around the side of the house as best I can in my new heeled sandals.Water runs down the back of my neck, my clothes clinging to my body inside the jacket. The wetness running down my legs gets worse as I reach the door. I’m acutely aware that it’s definitely not from the rain.
I might laugh at the whole situation if I wasn’t so infuriated.
What an asshole.
13
Frankie
I takegreat delight in slamming the front door behind me just as Dante is reaching the top step of the porch. My moment of glee doesn’t last long, though.
He pulls the door back open so hard, it bounces against the stop. Then he steps inside and closes it, dripping onto the marble floor. His eyes sweep over me and I brace for more of his scathing insults as I attempt to slip out of his soaked jacket. The sleeves cling to my arms, refusing to let go. He grins at my struggle, but there’s no humor in it. He’s merely mocking the difficult time I’m having.
After watching the show for another moment, he snags the sleeve and yanks, freeing one arm so I can wiggle out of the jacket completely.
“You could have used the back door. It would have been a shorter walk. Or maybe the domestic staff’s door. Much more fitting.”
Wadding up the sodden jacket, I fling it at him. “Maybe I would have, if I actually knew there was a fucking back door to this mausoleum. But thanks for the suggestion anyway.”
I take off my heels so I don’t slip and stomp up the staircase that leads to my rooms. His footsteps follow me up, so I increase my pace. Darting over the threshold, I move to close my door as quickly as I can, but he’s right behind me. I spin to face him as he barges inside, the look on his face making it clear he won’t be denied.
My adrenaline kicks, another ache starting between my legs.
Dante kicks the door closed and advances on me. A shallow gasp leaves my throat as he grabs the lapel of my blazer and pulls me toward him.
I stumble from the momentum and fall into him, one hand on his chest. His warmth radiates through his damp shirt like the assault on my willpower that it is. Just this simple touch makes me want him. It’s a hate-want. I hate that I want it. I don’t want to want him, and this has to stop. A flush of embarrassment warms my cheeks at a quick memory of him thrusting into me against the car. He was uncaring, unfeeling, and yet it didn’t bother me one bit.
His hands are suddenly everywhere, and my purse hits the floor, spilling its contents across the marble. He strips off my blazer and my blouse first, then unclasps my bra. I pull back, but the straps hold me in place, and then slide down my arms, the cups pulling free of my breasts and leaving them bare to his gaze.
