Page 12 of Dante

She feels so good when I’m inside her that it’s impossible. When Gina clenches around me, I struggle to slow myself down.

My desire for her is so intense I half-fear I’ll break her in half.

I adopt a new rhythm, pulling out a few inches, then thrusting back in, slow and deliberate.

Gina’s panting now, her fingernails digging into my back. Each time I move, her face tilts up, green eyes expressing an odd mixture of pleasure and pain.

I surprise myself by running my tongue along her jaw, down her neck, tasting her salt.

Like a tiger, I feel the need to mark her in every way. My scent on her skin, my sweat mingled with hers. Fingerprints mapping her from throat to thigh.

My ownership feels primal. Now she’s mine, I think to myself, quickening my pace within her. All mine.

Gina gasps as I thrust in fully, the last barricade giving way. I brace for a scream, some protest. Yet all that comes out is a breathless whimper, a soft mewing like a kitten.

That gives me the all-clear sign to fuck her with real intent. Truly mark her as mine.

“Good girl,” I rasp, my voice ragged.

“Yes, Dante, yes,” she whispers as I explode within her.

Her walls clench around me. A moment later, I feel her pulses as she achieves orgasm too.

Then Gina collapses against me. I cradle her as she falls into a deep, satisfied sleep.

CHAPTER 6

GINA

Iwake up in an enormous bed, the sheets crisp and luxurious against my skin. My head is pounding a little from last night’s Champagne.

It’s not until I squint my eyes open and see the sun streaming in that I remember where I am.

Dante’s penthouse.

The view of Manhattan stretches out forever. I’ve never slept somewhere this fancy in my entire life.

Dante.

I can still smell him on the pillow next to mine. His musky cologne has a touch of cedar in it. Yet it’s mixed with something raw and primal that makes my cheeks flush.

The sheets lay tangled around my legs. And there’s a slight but delicious soreness between my thighs that reminds me exactly what happened last night.

I run my fingers over the empty space where his body had been.

It’s still warm.

Where has he disappeared to?

Rolling over, I remember the way he kissed me last night.

Dante hardly said a word. But when he claimed me, I felt he was making me his woman in the most literal way possible.

And I especially remember the way he held me as I drifted off to sleep.

Forcing myself to rise, I look over at my shredded wedding dress near the floor-to-ceiling windows. So much for that.

When Alice and I were kids, we talked of saving our wedding dresses for our daughters.