Dirty Boy by Nichole Rose

 

Chapter Seven

Ella

 

The silence between us is deafening on the way to Norah's beach house. He's mad at me, thinks I don't trust him. Hot tears burn behind my eyes and my throat feels like it's on the verge of swelling shut. I should have told him days ago that we would be attending the same school. When Nan asked, I couldn't lie to her. I didn't want to lie to Dante either.

Now, I think I may have lost him. And I'm still so damn afraid to tell him the truth. I know him now. He's a good man, one of the best I've ever met. If he knew the truth, he'd fight for me. Even if it meant risking his future. Even if it meant risking everything.

I can't let that happen.

The beach house is completely silent when he pulls into the driveway. I forgot to turn on the porch light. The house looks almost abandoned, as if it's still closed up for the winter. Until right this minute, I always viewed it as a safe place to hide, somewhere my father would never think to look because I have no ties to it. Now it just seems…lonely.

"You don't have to walk me to the door," I say when Dante puts the truck in park and moves to open his door. If he says goodbye to me, it's going to break me. "I can get in by myself."

"I'll walk you," he says anyway.

I give up arguing, knowing it won't get me anywhere. Dante doesn't give up when he wants something. He's relentless and loyal and determined and so many amazing things. My life is better because he's in it. Maybe I can lie to him, but I can't lie to myself. I'm in love with him. Completely. Irrevocably. Dangerously in love.

And I can already feel him slipping away from me. It's my own fault.

He circles around the truck and opens my door before helping me down. As soon as I'm on my feet, he takes a step away from me, putting space between us. It cracks my heart in half. We walk in silence to the front door. My heart is in my throat, threatening to cut off my air supply. The truth is right there too, screaming to come out.

Except…it won't.

I punch in the lock code and wait for the familiar whir of the gears moving to unlock the door for me. Dante still doesn't say anything. Not even when I open the door.

"Dante, I…"

"It's fine," he says, even though we both know it's not.

I've never hated my father before. I think I hate him a little right now. Maybe even myself too. Because the best thing that ever happened to me is about to walk out the door, and I'm too damn scared of what my father might do to stop him.

"Goodnight," I whisper, stepping through.

"Night, Ella," he says.

I close the door behind me, not brave enough to watch him walk away. My hands shake. I stand there for a long moment, my mind a riot. One part of my brain screams for me to let him go. The other is equally as loud, demanding I stop him before I lose more than I can afford. Before I lose him.

I reach for the door handle to call him back, to tell him…something. Anything. His truck rumbles to life. I pull the door open in time to see him backing out of the driveway. He's really leaving, and it's all my fault.

Guilt and regret and a thousand other emotions crash down on me all at once. Everything I've been refusing to deal with bubbles to the surface. The fear that my father will find me. The worry that he'll do something to hurt me or the people in my life who matter. The fact that I haven't been honest with Dante.

I told myself I could let him go when the summer ended, but I was wrong.

And now, I'm too late.

I stumble to the couch and collapse onto the soft cushion. Heaving sobs shake my body. I curl up in a miserable ball and cry harder than I ever have before. So hard I don't hear the door open. I don't hear the footsteps. I don't hear anything until….

"Baby, no," Dante whispers.

I fly upright on the couch to find him kneeling at my side, concern etched into every line of his beautiful face.

"Dante!" I sob, flinging myself off the couch into his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shh, baby girl," he whispers, wrapping me up in his arms. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try to push me away, I'm not going anywhere."

I bury my face in his throat and cry harder. He rocks me back and forth like I'm a little kid, crooning to me, promising me that he's not going anywhere. I want so badly to believe him. I want so badly to let him be brave for me. But I can't do that. This is my problem to fix.

"I d-d-did s-something," I say when I can speak. "S-something dangerous."

"What did you do, baby girl? Talk to me." He rises from the floor and sinks down onto the sofa, holding me against his chest the entire time.

"I destroyed a supply of illegal drugs," I whisper. "The person they belonged to is probably looking for me, and I don't…I don't know what he's going to do when he finds me."

"Jesus, Ella," Dante whispers. "Who did they belong to?"

"I…." I trail off, shaking my head.

"You have to tell me, baby girl. I can't help you if you won't trust me."

"I t-trust you!" I cry. "That's n-not why I didn't tell you. I d-don't want you to get hurt, Dante."

"You let me worry about me."

"You don't understand," I whisper, sniffling.

"Then help me understand. Talk to me."

"My d-dad is T-Toby Morgan," I whisper.

"Former wide receiver for the Falcons, Toby Morgan?" Dante asks.

"Yes."

"Current Georgia attorney general, Toby Morgan?"

"Yes."

"Fucking hell," he whispers, and I know he's heard the rumors. He knows who and what my dad has become in the decades since he left football behind. It's hard to live in this state and not hear about the powerful man who controls it. "The drugs were his."

"Yes," I confess, tears still pouring down my cheeks. "He d-doesn't know where I am yet. But when he finds me, if I'm w-with y-you, he'll…." I trail off, another sob wrenching free of my chest as hopelessness and misery crash down on me like cymbals crashing together. "I w-won't let him destroy your l-life. I can't do that."

"He's not going to destroy my life," Dante growls. "Yours either, Ella. We aren't going to let that happen."

"I don't know how to stop him," I sigh, curling into Dante. I just want to disappear, pretend the outside world doesn't exist, and no one is looking for me, least of all my father. How do you fight a man in charge of the state's legal system? I don't know. Dante is so much stronger than I am, so much braver, but not even he has the power to stop my father. He's destroyed everyone who ever tried. Politicians, police officers, attorneys.

"We'll find a way," Dante vows. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I j-just have to make it until school starts. He won't come for me there."

"Why not?"

"He won't step foot in Tennessee. I think he got into some trouble there or has enemies or something. That's why I chose Vanderbilt. " I exhale a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just…I can't be linked to you, Dante. He'll punish me through you. I won't do that to you."

"This thing between us isn't ending when the summer does, Ella," he says, his voice firm, unyielding. "I don't care what I have to say or who we have to face, I'm not letting you go without a fight."

"Dante," I whisper, pulling back to look at him. His face is set in a scowl so fierce I know he means it. He'll fight me, exactly like I feared. He'll try to fight my dad. And he'll lose everything he's worked so hard to get. I see the truth blazing in his eyes. He'd give it up for me without hesitation. And he wouldn't even regret it.

"I love you, Ella Morgan," he whispers, drying my tears. "Do you hear me? I love you, and I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

"Dante."

"I know you feel the same way about me. I see it all over your face. You love me."

Part of me knows I should tell him no to spare him, but I can't do it. I do love him. So damn much I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lie to him. I want to be with him, not just this summer, but always. I want him saying ridiculous things and pretending he needs to be rescued for the rest of my life. I don't know how to make that a possibility, but I'll find a way.

"I love you," I whisper, more tears pouring down my cheeks. "I love you so much."

"Then trust me, baby girl. Let me help you." He presses his forehead to mine. "Please."

"Just be with me," I plead, wrapping my hands in his shirt. "All I want right now is to feel you."

"I'm right here," he says.

"Kiss me."

His lips touch mine in a soft caress, but it's not what I want. I lift up on my knees above him, straddling his lap. His hands sink into my hips, his fingers digging into my ass. I moan against his lips, desperate to feel him all over me.

Maybe it's the emotional upheaval of the last hour talking, maybe it's the last week and a half of my life, or maybe it's every moment of my life before him…I don't know. All I know is that the need to be connected to him as deeply as possible rises up like the sea, roaring to be heard.

I rip my shirt off over my head, parting from his lips only long enough to free myself of the fabric standing between us. He growls low in his throat, like a big cat warning its prey to run. I don't heed that warning. I don't run. Not from him.

"Make love to me, Dante," I whisper, grinding on his lap. "Please."

"Ella, baby girl," he groans. He's trying to slow this down, to resist. He should know by now though, there is no resisting what's between us. It's too vast, too bright.

I reach for my bra, quickly undoing the hooks. The fabric falls forward, caught by my arm across my chest. I sit back on Dante's knees, catching his gaze with mine. He swallows hard, his eyes blazing with heat as I drop my arm, allowing my bra to slip down my arms.

I always thought this moment would make me feel vulnerable or slightly afraid. It doesn't. I feel powerful and precious with his eyes on me. His breath comes in a harsh pant. His hands dig into the couch cushions, the muscles in his arms locked tight, as if he's trying to keep himself from reaching for me.

"I want this," I whisper. "I want you to be my first."

"Only," he growls.

"Yes."

"You're sure? We can wait, Ella. I won't rush you."

"I've never been more certain of anything. I love you, and I need you, Dante. Please."

He growls wordlessly this time, moving faster than I can process. His hands sink into my ass, tumbling me forward on his lap. I cry out…and then cry out again when his mouth closes around my right nipple.

I throw my head back, moaning his name. Powerful sensations buffet my body, intensifying the ache deep in my belly and lower, between my legs. I writhe on his lap as he nips and sucks and licks and bites, driving me higher with each little move. He seems to know exactly how to make it feel best for me.

I want to make him feel that way too.

I reach for his shirt, help him peel it off. His body is so damn impressive to me. The sheer amount of determination that building it took is a little awe-inspiring. I see his dedication to his family, his commitment to his sport, the blood, and sweat, and tears he expended. His willpower is etched into every line of his body. It ripples and bunches with every move, and it's beautiful. He is beautiful. Not the product of his work, but him and the reasons for his dedication.

"Ella," he groans, arching beneath me when I cup his erection through his pants. His eyes meet mine, as wild as the ocean. The emotion in them is just as deep and powerful. "God, baby girl."

I stroke him through his pants, quickly growing frustrated. I want to see all of him, touch all of him. He seems to know what I want, what I need. He kisses me again, hard and deep and long. Our hands tangle and slip as we work together, stripping both of us bare.

His erection juts proudly from his body. Somehow, even this part of him is perfect. Long and thick and so damn beautiful. The broad head is red, moisture welling from the slit.

I reach for him, rubbing my thumb across the head. His skin is burning hot, as if the heat banked in his eyes smolders here too. He growls my name when I wrap my fist around him, his head kicking back on his neck.

"Fucking hell, baby girl," he groans, arching his hips, trying to get closer to me. "You keep that up, I'll be coming in your hand before I even get you off."

"Then do it," I say, tightening my grip on him. I work my hand up and down his shaft, trying to remember the one porno Norah and I watched a couple years ago. I'm not sure whose idea it was, and we giggled through the whole thing. But Dante seems to like what I learned.

A lot, judging by the way he growls and curses.

When I rub my thumb over the slit again, he grabs my hand and yanks me forward. I fall into his arms with a startled cry that dies as soon as his lips touch mine. I practically climb his body, only to moan when I feel his hands on my bare bottom.

"Where is your room?" he asks between kisses, carrying me toward the hallway. We bump into furniture and knock pictures askew. I can't stop kisses him or grinding against his erection. It's right there, so close to where I need him, but not nearly close enough.

"F-first door," I moan, plunging my fingers into his short hair.

He growls my name so loud I feel it in my belly, setting fire to my veins. I ache everywhere.

"Not for long," he says, letting me know I said that out loud.

My back hits the mattress, his hand behind my head to keep it from bouncing. For a long moment, he looms over me, nothing but heat and devilish intent and bold ink. The heat in his eyes blazes hotter as I squeeze my legs together, trying to ease the ache.

"It's my turn to touch you now," he says, crawling onto the bed with me. He hovers over me for a minute on his hands and knees, careful to keep his weight off me. "Tell me no if you don't want this, baby girl."

"Don't you dare stop."

"Then I won't stop until you're screaming the fucking roof down, Ella."

"Dante."

"I love you." He seals his words with a sweet kiss…and then he does exactly what he promised. Light dances across my skin everywhere he touches, the heat seeping deep into my bones. My neck. My shoulder. The bend of my arm. My lower belly.

I moan, writhing beneath his touch. It's wicked and wanton, the rough pad of his fingers as they glide down my arm loud to my ears. So is the harsh glide of air as it enters my throat. Somehow, he enchants me. So every moment with him feels as if time created them for us alone.

Every single one is perfect, something I never could have imagined before he bossed his way into my life and into my heart. The orange glow of his brand still sizzles there.

"Dante. Dante, please," I moan, no more capable of stopping the plea as I am of denying the truth behind it. I need him. Not just today. Not just this summer. But always. He's my world, the man who brings me to life and teases me. The one who would breathe for me if I let him. He's that man.

He makes a sound then, one I've never heard before. It's his soul, rising up to answer mine. His eyes do too, rising over my lower belly like the sun, searing and hot, capable of burning through you even from light years away. "Say my name again, baby girl. Scream it until it's the only name you know, the only one you'll ever want to say. Say it again, Ella."

"Dante!" I wail, willingly giving him what he wants. What sets his eyes ablaze. What's been between us since the instant our eyes first locked. I've been running from it, terrified that I would ruin him. Not anymore. I'm done running from my fate.

"I'm the man who takes care of you, Ella. The one you trust with everything. No matter what's going on, no matter how afraid you are, you run to me, and I'll take care of it for you. That's my job now. Understand?"

"Yes, yes." I give him that willingly too. Whatever he wants.

His eyes disappear from view, his breath blowing hot against my lower belly, and then lower. He shoulders his way between my legs, whispering my name. My thighs tremble beneath his lips, my entire body shaking with the force of my need for him.

"God, you're so pretty here, Ella," he says, parting my folds with two fingers. He makes another of those sounds I feel all the way to my core, and I forget to be shy or embarrassed. With him, I don't think I'm capable of either.

His tongue touches my clit, and everything but him disappears.

"Fuck me," he groans, his hands digging into my ass, lifting me toward his mouth. "I knew you were going to taste like summer. I need more." He doesn't wait for an answer before burying his head between my legs.

I arch and writhe and beg. For more. For less. For everything. He gives it, his sounds of worship loud, as if he wants heaven to hear him and know he's found me. That I'm truly his in every way, his claiming inviolable, even by my father, even by heaven itself.

I come on his fingers and his tongue, shattering apart all at once beneath their wicked onslaught. Once and then again. Until my world begins and ends with him.

"God, you're beautiful when you're reminding me that you're all mine," he growls, stalking up my body.

"I am all yours," I say, meaning it.

"Yeah, you are." He kisses me hard and deep, our tastes mingling. "For the rest of my life, I'm yours too, Ella. There will never be anyone else for me. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I'll find a way to give to you. Nothing will ever matter more than you."

"Dante," I whisper, hot tears burning at the backs of my eyes.

"I love you." He seals his truth with a kiss, pulling my leg up over his hip at the same time. The head of his cock notches at my entrance, and then he groans, the sound so full of misery it hurts to hear it. "I don't have a condom."

"I'm…I'm on birth control."

His blue eyes meet mine, so full of relief, my entire body quivers with excitement.

"You want me in you bare, baby girl?"

"Yes," I say. It's irresponsible and dangerous and a little bit crazy too…but I do want it. "I want to feel all of you. Please, Dante."

"This is going to hurt," he says, touching his mouth to mine again. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I want this."

He kisses me again, going from soft and sweet to hot and hungry and then back again.

"I love you," I cry as he pushes forward. I stretch around him slowly, my body trying to adjust to the sheer size of him. Within seconds, the stretch turns to a burn and then a sharp pain as he breaks through my barrier. I suck in a deep breath and let it out on a sob.

He roars my name, his body going taut. And then I feel him coming inside me, thick ropes warming my belly from the inside. I sob his name again, not sure how it's possible for me to be in pain and in heaven at the same exact moment.

"Ah, God, baby girl," he groans. "I'm sorry. I'm a bastard for coming all over you while you're crying, but you feel so damn good." He's stock still, his face etched in agony, as if his need shames him. As if my pain is his.

"I'm okay," I try to tell him but it's nothing but a tangled hiccup that makes him groan like a wounded bear. "I j-just n-need a minute."

He groans again, bringing his mouth down on mine. He kisses each corner of my lips before dipping between them to kiss me. His tongue wraps around mine, coaxing it out to play with his.

We kiss and taste and tease until I'm squirming beneath him, and the pain is a distant memory. I thought men needed recovery time, but he doesn't seem to need it. He's still hard inside me, making it clear he's not finished with me yet.

"Oh, oh," I moan when he starts to move.

"You like that?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Good. Let me hear how good you feel when I'm in you," he growls, rocking his hips to slide deeper. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to loosen you up enough to take all of me."

"You're n-not all the way in?" I cry. Good grief. I'm so full of him there's no way I can take more…but I want to. I want every inch of him inside me.

He dips his head forward, a deep chuckle rolling over me. "No, baby, I'm not. But it's all right. Breaking you in is going to be my goal in life. I'll be in you every fucking second of the day, fighting for every inch."

My entire body clenches at the thought.

"You like that thought, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good girl," he croons, his voice a rumbling prayer. He yanks my leg up higher, changing the angle slightly. His next thrust is wicked, striking something inside that sends pleasure rippling through every nerve-ending in my body.

I sob his name, clawing at his arms.

He roars as if the pain of my nails in his skin touches every one of his nerve-endings, and then his control snaps. He pounds into me hard enough to knock me breathless. Each powerful thrust threatens to send me sliding out of his arms. It's the most glorious thing I've ever felt.

Everyone says your first time is supposed to be messy and quick and awkward, but this is nothing like that. I don't think Dante could be awkward even if he tried. This may be his first time too, but he's so controlled, so damn powerful. As if he's been waiting his entire life to love me like this.

He chases my lips with his, rocking his hips into mine.

We kiss and love until we're both dripping sweat and gasping for air, dancing on the edge of a precipice that grows bigger with each shift of his hips, like fingers of earth reaching deep into the heavens.

"I need you to come for me, Ella. Give it all to me," he demands, circling his hips so the root of his erection grinds against my clit. One hand slides down the leg thrown over his hip, and then across the swell of my ass. His fingers ghost across my back entrance, pulling a gasp from my lips.

I do more than gasp when he circles right back.

"You liked that," he says, touching me there again. He doesn't try to breach that entrance, but I feel his thumb against me, setting off little explosions in my bloodstream. "What happens in this bed is just between me and you. I'm going to know every inch of you. Now, come all over me. Let me see it one more time." He pumps his hips again, making love to me as he whispers dirty things in my ear. Things that make me sob and ache and plead.

No, Dante isn't awkward. He's filthy and sweet and perfect.

The orgasm that hits me is even bigger than the first two. It lifts me up into the sky and then plunges me deep into a liquid pool of bliss. It crashes over me again and again. I buck and writhe, screaming in ecstasy as it pulls me apart.

Dante is with me the whole time, roaring my name as he fills me with sticky ropes of his seed and reverent cries that echo in the corners. He holds me close, writhing with me, moaning with me. It's messy and beautiful and for the first time since I met him, I let myself hope.

"Baby girl," he whispers into my hair when it's over. His body is curled over mine as if to shelter me from the outside world, his heart beating wildly against my breasts. "God, baby girl."

"I know," I whisper, understanding exactly what he can't find the words to express. I feel it too, growing bigger with every breath. Peace. As if, for once in my life, the whole world is exactly right and we're exactly where we were always meant to be.

It's not until he's asleep that I remember that the whole world isn't exactly right. Not yet.

Until I face my father, it can't be.