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As Dario quickens his pace, it's as if we're racing toward an inevitable collision – one that will leave us both changed forever. He leans forward to kiss me, and I taste the urgency on his lips.
"Jasmine, I'm close," he warns, his voice strained with effort.
"Me too," I whisper, my body trembling beneath him as he shoves his cock deeper in my pussy. My legs begin to quiver.
"Oh mio Dio, Dario," – Oh my god, Dario – I almost scream, biting into his neck as he raises my legs above his shoulders and stuffs me with his cock, fucking me so hard that the headboard behind the bed begins to creek.
I find a small, tiny seed of otherwordly sensation spasm within me, as my legs begin to tremble. My back arches off the bed and the last sight I have of Dario before I close my eyes is him taking in the view of my breasts rising toward the sky.
"Cum for me, baby," he moans, and I feel his hands on my tits as he picks up the pace. My entire body tenses up, as I feel the wetness from my pussy drip down my legs, as the need to burst out in pleasure travels up my back.
"I'm there, Jasmine," he gasps, his body taut with tension as he thrusts into me with desperate, frenzied passion.
His breath catches in his throat and I let out a guttural cry, the intense pleasure consuming me.
With a final thrust, he pulls out and spills himself onto my stomach. Our breaths come in ragged gasps as we ride out the aftershocks of our passion.
Dario reaches for a towel and tenderly wipes me clean, his touch still sending shivers through me. When he's done, he pulls me into his arms, and we cuddle against one another, our bodies spent but our hearts full.
"Thank you," I whisper into his chest, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace.
"Thank you, Jasmine," he responds softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "For trusting me, and for letting me love you."
We're still entwined, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath of our lovemaking, when a discreet knock on the door breaks the spell. I tense automatically, my instincts kicking in despite the warm cocoon of Dario's arms.
"Stay here," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before slipping out of bed and pulling on his pants. His eyes remain locked on mine as he cautiously approaches the door, every inch the protective alpha male.
"Who is it?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
"Delivery for Miss Jasmine," comes the muffled response from the other side.
I feel my heart race as I pull the sheet around me, sitting up in bed. Dario casts one last glance in my direction before opening the door just wide enough to accept the small package from the messenger, a bellboy who says the parcel was with the receptionist.
The door closes with a soft click, and he turns to me, the box held out like an offering.
"Here you go, cara," he says, but I can see the wariness in his eyes.
"Thank you," I reply, reaching for the package. It's heavier than I expect, and I carefully unwrap it to reveal a single white chess piece – a queen, made from delicate porcelain – that’s why I felt its weight.
This is another unusual delivery from the Ghost, confirmed by the note, signed with the same elaborate G.
"Jasmine? What is it?" Dario's concern is palpable as he takes in my expression. I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check.
"It's... a message. From the ghost," I say, turning the chess piece over in my hands.
"From the ghost?" Dario asks, fear enveloping his voice. "For you?"
I can tell he doesn't like this. If I'm getting messages, that means I'm more involved than he would like me to be. "Why for you?" he whispers, looking confused.
"The queen," my voice comes out, broken but alert. "Can make or break a game. She is the most powerful piece on the board, able to move in any direction she chooses. The ghost is warning me to be versatile and decisive, calculate each step with precision."
"I don't like this," Dario slams the table in front of him. "Him involving you. I don't like this one bit."
"Maybe he sees something we don't," I try to reason with Dario. Maybe the ghost is trying to help Dario by telling me to look out for him. Is he trying to give me a message? Does this ghost know I'm a spy, working to bring down the Marchetti's and even Dario, if need be.
What are you trying to tell me, ghost?
While I contemplate what the message to me could be, Dario takes the note from my trembling hands and opens it.
