Page 80 of Defiant
“Because,” I hissed, “things are different now.” And I wasn’t kidnapped, trying to outsmart him and getaway.
Hah. Look at how far it got me. Still near him, still somehow with him.
“You are no fun,” he spoke, reaching a hand toward me. His fingertips grazed my cheek, gently tucking some hair behind an ear, and all the while his blue eyes sparkled in the darkness. I held his stare, not wanting to break it. Not wanting to show him just how much that small touch affected me.
How did it affect me, you ask?
Oh, it made my skin feel like it was on fire. That small touch made me grip the armrests harder, so I wouldn’t go touching him instead. The teasing touch made my heart speed up in spite of myself, my breath catching in the back of my throat.
“Be bad with me,” Dante begged, that same hand moving from my ear, tracing along my jaw. “Just for tonight.”
Just for tonight…
No, no, I couldn’t. He was ridiculously tempting, but I couldn’t. If I got up and left with him, Bobbi would see. Everyone else would see.
“I can’t.”
Dante didn’t seem like he was going to take no for an answer, the hand along my jaw dropping to trace my collarbone. “Come on,” he said, “I know you want to.” That finger tracing my collarbone made it so hard to breathe.
Once more, I whispered, “I can’t. I can’t go anywhere with you—” The dance would be different. I hadn’t told Mom about my two dates yet, and I wasn’t even sure how I would.
“Then let’s stay here,” he suggested, the hand on my collarbone suddenly dropping down, grazing my left breast as he started toying with the bottom hemline of my shirt.
I wanted to laugh. Stay here, and do what, exactly? It wasn’t like we could fuck in the back of the auditorium without anyone seeing or realizing what was happening. But the laugh in my throat died the moment I felt Dante’s hand curl against my body, moving downward over my leggings. When I felt him apply pressure there, I both wanted to smack him, get up, and walk away…and open my legs a bit and let him at me.
“Fuck,” Dante muttered, running his fingers along me, “are you wearing anything under these?”
Though it was probably a bad idea, I said, “Why don’t you check for yourself?” Okay, I had no idea where that came from.
Lies. That came from the warm feeling blossoming in my gut, the tightening in my core and the low aching feeling coming from my clit.
The smirk only grew on Dante’s face as he quietly moved his hand, slipping it between my leggings and my searing hot skin, finding that I was indeed wearing no panties beneath it. Leggings looked better that way.
My lungs inhaled a sharp breath when his fingers ran along my slit, pinching my nub between them. I met his stare, finding that he was both smug and satisfied at what he’d gotten himself into. I knew I should push him away, deny him what he wanted most—and right now, that was me—and yet, as I stared at his chiseled face, I couldn’t muster up the willpower to do anything but sit there and let him touch me under the shadows in the auditorium, surrounded by people, my ears assailed with constant singing.
I could pay attention to nothing but Dante and the way his fingers felt as they rubbed against me. When a finger dipped lower, he found a slickness at my entrance. A low hum came from his chest, a sound of approval, and he brought some of that wetness up to my clit, rubbing that swollen nub between two of his fingers.
This was wrong, and yet it felt so good. If that was the case, was it really wrong, or was I just trying to write Dante off, trying to push him away? He was clearly dangerous, definitely out of his mind, but the madness drew me in just like his handsome face did.
My hips started to move, just a little, just enough to push myself against that hand a bit harder. Dante watched me as his fingers dipped lower once again—only this time they did not stop at the rim of my entrance. This time one of them pushed in, and I had to stifle a gasp as I felt his finger fill me up.
It was nowhere near what a cock felt like, but it still sent my body into a wave of heated bliss.
He worked his finger in and out of me, his palm applying pressure to my aching clit. With a single hand, this tattooed man was undoing me, wholly and completely, making me lose my mind with a small crowd nearby.
I didn’t know if I should be awed or fearful of his power over me.
“Fuck,” Dante muttered. “I really wish it was my dick inside of you right now.”
I panted; I wanted that, too.
My head fell back on the seat, and I closed my eyes, losing myself to the growing pressure building inside of me from his handiwork. My whole body felt like it was on fire, his finger pumping in and out of me, dragging me to the edge, pushing me to the precipice of an orgasm ridiculously fast.
He was either really good, or I was just really horny. Maybe a bit of both.
Either way, it came in a rush, causing me to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. Pleasure surged through me as I lost my mind to the orgasm, my inner walls clamping down on his finger as if it was his dick, as if I could milk him for more.
Holy hell. Dante definitely had a way with me, apparently.
