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One, Dante was going to be my fiancé. Two, we might kill each other before we ever made it to the altar.
“I’m an asshole, yet you’re dripping all over my hand.” I kept my thumb on her clit while I slipped a finger inside her. “What does that say about you?”
“It’s just flowers.” I understood why he was upset, but he was making it into something bigger than it was. “They’re harmless.” “Some fucker is sending you flowers, and you want to tell me it’s harmless?” He picked up the card again. “Thought of you at midnight. Hope you’re doing well. Love, Heath.” Sarcasm weighed heavy on the recitation. “It doesn’t take a genius to know what he was doing while he was thinking of you at midnight.”
“Heath was wrong for what he tried to do, but you’re upset because…why? You’re threatened? Territorial?” My nails dug into my palms. “I’m not a toy, Dante. You don’t get to toss me aside and pick me back up only when someone else wants me.”
“I don’t know why I care. I just know I do, and I hate it.” Self-loathing coated his voice. “I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
If I loved you as much as he claims to love you, nothing would’ve stopped me from keeping you.
“You shouldn’t have let him touch you, mia cara.” Dante’s soft voice sent shivers over my skin a second before he pinched the sensitive peaks, hard.
“Because you’re mine.” His teeth scored my neck. “You wear my ring. You’ve come on my face and hand. You live in my head all the fucking time, even if I don’t want you to...” His palm slid to my hip, where his fingers dug grooves into my skin. “And God, I want to punish you for driving me so damn crazy. Every. Single. Day.”
My eyes fluttered closed, only to fly open again when a hand closed around my neck. “Open your eyes,” Dante growled. “Look in the mirror when I’m fucking you.”
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh. “You”—thrust—”are”—thrust—”my”—thrust—”wife.”
“You’re making a mess, sweetheart.” He turned his attention to my other nipple and tugged on it with his teeth. “Should I make you clean it up, hmm? Have you lick your own cum off the seat while I fuck you from behind?”
“Spread your legs for me. That’s it.” Dante’s approval rumbled over me when I obeyed. “Let me see how wet that pretty little pussy is.”
Only half my resulting scream made it out before a hand clamped over my mouth. “Shh,” Dante murmured. “You don’t want people to hear how much you love being fucked like this, do you? On all fours in the backseat of a car, taking every inch of my cock like you’re fucking made for it.” He gave my clit another long, lazy stroke with his other hand. “It’s not very becoming of a society heiress.”
“For ever making you feel unwanted when you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”
We raised you, fed you, and made sure you wanted for nothing, and you thank us by walking away when the family needs you most. You do not get to sit here and lecture me. I am your father.” That was always his excuse. I am your father. As if that absolved him from any wrongdoing and gave him the right to manipulate me like a chess piece in a game I never consented to.
A part of me would always find my way to her. She was my North Star, the brightest jewel in my sky.
“I’m not Mrs. Russo yet. There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride fantasy,” she quipped. A wicked smile spread across my lips. “I do love a good chase.”
