Stolen: Dante’s Vow by Natasha Knight
Dante
Iam furious.
I take hold of her face, one hand on each side, and make her look up at me. She blinks against the spray of water, but I don’t care. I pull her to me, hug her tight. Because if I don’t, I’m going to shake her. Because all I can think is how close I came to losing her again. To losing her finally this time.
I push her away.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I ask.
She winces at my tone.
“What were you fucking thinking?” I demand.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here!” she cries out.
“Where should I have taken you then? Where?” Christ. The urge to shake her is back. I want to fucking rattle her bones. Jolt some sense into her.
“Just leave me alone!” She tries to force my hands from her, but I shift my grip to her arms, hold her tight, look down at her. Water runs over the planes of her body, soft, full breasts, hard nipples. Her too-flat belly. She’s scratched up from the rocks.
She looks at me, too, and I let her. I hold her there and I let her. And when she meets my gaze again, I realize I don’t care about anything but this moment. Her. I can’t not kiss her. Can’t not have her.
I cup the back of her head, pull her to me and close my mouth over hers. I kiss her hard, water pelting the back of my head as I devour her. I want her. I have never wanted anyone like I want her. As wrong as it is, I fucking want her.
Her hands come to my chest, my biceps. I draw back, lift her up, press her back to the glass wall. She wraps her legs around me and I’m at her entrance. And all I can do is look at her as I decide.
Because this is the moment to decide. The line is clear. I’m toeing it, have been since day one.
Now, my cock at her warm entrance, I have to decide.
And I do.
I already have. Hell, maybe I had since day one.
I thrust in hard and watch her gasp. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, and she opens her eyes, looks at me.
I draw out and thrust again. And fuck. Fuck, she feels good. So good. So tight. So fucking perfect. Perfect for me. As if she was made just for me. I don’t bother switching off the water when I carry her out, her legs still wrapped around my waist. I lay her dripping wet on my bed, tug her to the edge and grip her ankles to push her legs wide, opening her, looking at her. And then I’m inside her again, fucking her, fucking the past out of her.
And I know this is right. I know this is the only thing right in this fucked up situation. This fucked up world.
Her. Here. In my bed.
Mine.
Fucking mine.
I lean closer, needing to kiss her again, to taste her mouth, suck on her tongue. And when I do, she wraps her hands around the back of my head and gives me everything. Her breath, her body, her fucking soul. Because I will have everything. Every part of her.
And when that breath catches, I draw away to look at her, watch her come undone, face tensing, mouth open, eyes dark, black pupils ringed with a fine line of the most beautiful blue.
“Dante,” she gasps, biting her lip, fingers pulling my hair as she closes those eyes and turns her head a little. The walls of her pussy pulsate around my cock, taking me to the edge of oblivion. I call out her name and make her look at me again. I need to see her eyes again as I empty inside her, laying claim to her, taking her for myself.
Because she belongs to me. She has always belonged to me.