AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You don’t,” he confirms.
21
ALESSA
Dante is relentless, shouting at me to get up and fight back the minute I’m down on the mat, reminding me if it were anyone else, I’d be dead by now. I know he’s speaking the truth, but it doesn’t make me resent him any less. I’m sweaty, tired and out of breath.
“That’s enough,” I pant as he circles me, having barely broken a sweat.
“Tell that to the guy who wants you dead.”
I look him straight in the eye, remembering the hatred, the anger and all the times I felt like he was ready to kill me just for my mere existence.
“That’s enough, Dante.”
He chuckles darkly, pouncing on me. The movement throws my tired body off balance. I have no more fight left as we land on the mats one more time, with him on top of me. “You thinkIwant you dead, Alessandra?”
I bite my lip.
“You think I’d be wasting my time trying to keep you safe and teaching you how to fight back if I wanted you gone?” His sharp gaze snaps to my lips, then back to myeyes. “You think I’d keep you around instead of snuffing the life out of you the minute we were alone?” His face scrunches up in agony, as if the words just spoken pain him, as if he’s fighting against the urge to wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze until I can no longer breathe.
“I wouldn’t put it past you to play with your food,” I whisper, gasping for air, knowing it would probably take him less than ten seconds to end me. Pinned like I am beneath him, I wouldn’t be able to fight back. I wiggle, testing how much space I have to manoeuvre, but all I achieve is feeling every inch of his deliciously hard body pressing against mine. My breaths quicken as his eyes move to my lips. My tongue darts out, wetting them as I’m rendered immobile once again. But this time is different. His dark amber eyes have me enthralled. There’s no threat in the air, no fear. Instead, all I feel is anticipation as his face slowly but deliberately inches towards mine. My body ignites underneath his, every nerve ending begging to feel his touch.
“Fuck,” he curses almost inaudibly, his lips just a whisper above mine. His cock grows hard, pressing against my thigh as his hand traces the side of my face until his fingers are cupping my jaw and lifting my chin.
I feel so helpless caged beneath this mountain of pure muscle, yet so cherished at the same time. It’s such a mindfuck—this hot and cold he’s putting me through. I’m torn between pulling him to me and pushing him away.
“Dante,” I whisper, my breath mingling with his. But the whisper comes out as more of a moan.
He shudders above me, driving his hips against mine as liquid heat pools in my lower belly. Our lips touch, but neither one of us dares to move. “You will be my undoing.”
For half a second, I’m not sure if I imagined those words,but then he dives in, his tongue licking my lips, then slipping inside and nothing else matters. Moaning against his mouth, my thighs open of their own accord as he grinds into me, causing a delicious ache to build in my core. I nip and tug and kiss him back, my hands in his hair as he lifts my t-shirt exposing my breasts. I’m in flames, consumed by the fire he has ignited within. I don’t recognise the person I’m becoming when Dante is holding me, kissing me, pinching my nipple between his fingers. My body moves against his as his mouth becomes rougher, his touches more demanding. I’m equally terrified and yearning for more. For all of him.
His hand slides down the side of my body, leaving my breasts cold and aching for his attention. But he doesn’t leave me wanting for long, moving his mouth away from my needy lips, biting and licking down my neck until his mouth is over my pert nipple, sucking it in so hard the sensation teeters between pleasurable and painful.
“You should only wear my clothes,” he murmurs as he undoes the tie on my sweatpants, pushing them down and seeing his boxer shorts underneath. He bites the side of my breast, then moves back up, his mouth on mine before I can even reply. His fingers move beneath the waistband of the boxers as his lips skilfully turn me into liquid. I have never felt a desire like this before. Never wanted for things to go any further than meaningless flirtation. Never let anyone get this close to me. To my body. And, as Dante’s masterful hands continue their exploration, my impulse to avoid physical contact with the opposite sex at all costs is silent, letting things unfold as they may. It is only when his fingers slide against my slick entrance and he groans—“Fuck. You’re so wet for me, Alessa.”—that I still, the full realisation of what’s happening dawning on me.
What the fuck am I doing?
His fingers move rhythmically, circling my clit and I squeeze my eyes shut, lost between the feeling of horror and overwhelming pleasure. I want to close my legs and spread them open to give him access at the same time. The urge to push him away is consuming me, but god, he’s making me feel so good I don’t think I can do it. I’m oscillating between ecstasy and the sour taste of hate still lingering in my mouth. Heat prickles behind my eyes as my hands drop from his neck and land by my side, curling into fists.
“Alessa.” He stills above me, his fingers poised against my entrance, where no one has touched me before except—“What’s wrong? Do you want me to stop?”
This. This is exactly the reason I’m so torn up. How can he go from being the angry man I’m trying my hardest to hate to this caring person, worried about my feelings at the same time? The Dante with concern in his dark brown eyes, is not the same man I met on my first day in Blackwood who made it his job to make me feel unwelcome. He can’t be. I shake my head, my eyes still closed as I try to steady my shaky breaths. The feelings he has ignited in me are foreign. The closest I’ve ever felt to wanting somethingmorefrom a man. The closest to feeling like I can trust someone with my body, and I—as terrifying as it feels—I don’t want it to end. I want to feel all the things Dante Santoro is making me feel and more. I don’t want to be this broken girl, always running away. From men, from authorities. From memories.
“Are you—are you a virgin?”
My eyes snap open as once again I shake my head. Somehow, through all the turmoil I’m feeling, I still manage a smile as I lift my hand and smooth the wrinkles of confusion between his eyebrows. “No. Not technically.” The words slip out and as soon as they do, I want to take them back.Questions I’m not ready to answer mar his features. Memories I don’t want to dredge up, swimming up to the surface, but I push them down. Drowning them in the pits of my soul where darkness clings to my trauma like tar. A self-defence mechanism I’ve mastered in order to survive.
“Keep going, Dante,” I whisper, moving my hand to the side of his face. Focusing on the way this man is making me feel.
He hesitates, his eyes searching mine, making sure I’m not deflecting. And that’s more reason for me to urge him to keep going. I don’t want my sudden change of heart scrutinised. I just want to stay in this bubble with him, where we’re not trying to insult or annoy each other. Where the scariest man I have ever known makes me feel alive.
I thread my fingers through his silky hair. “Make me feel good,” I whisper, pulling his face down to mine and kissing him again, deeply and demanding, until he groans against my lips and kisses me back like he means it, his hand digging into my waist.
“I’m not gentle,” he says between kisses, and I almost sigh with relief.
“I don’t want you to be. I won’t break,” I reply. And it’s true. I don’t want him to treat me like I’m fragile, I want him to take what he wants and I want to enjoy every second of it. I need him to demand the parts of me I would never give freely. I need to feel like he’s in control, otherwise, I actually might break. But if I let him take charge, I can let go of the control I’ve been trying to hold on to since I was a child and maybe, just maybe, I can enjoy myself.
