Page 58 of Wicked

I do as I’m told, and I shiver. I use the fluffy towel on my wet hair as Dante drops to my pants. He is now on one knee, and he is undoing my wet, cold jeans.

He is also doing it as if it’s nothing.

I peer at him wide-eyed, but he is likely doing what is sensible. As he slides the jeans down my cool legs, I hope he doesn’t want my panties off.

Yet!

Now out of my wet jeans, I step closer to the fire. I warm and start to dry as Dante hangs my jeans on an old weapon rack in the distance.

The denim starts to steam, and I inhale nervously.

As I dry myself, I drink more of the hot sweet liquid. Dante watches me as the storm outside builds. “Come.”

Thunder rumbles, and the tall dark Italian leads me to the old-fashioned windows. The storm across the Mediterranean Sea intensifies, and it pounds the Tuscan coast hard. We have a perfect view, and Dante stands behind me.

Without thinking, I lean back against his chest. It should feel weird, but it doesn’t. It feels natural, and he feels supportive and safe.

Dante wraps an arm around my chest, and he drinks some of my whiskey. I feel his warmth, and I feel safe, protected and charged.

As Dante hands me the hot drink, I drink more down. My body is warming more, and I start to feel warm, light, and relaxed.

I made it! I really made it.

Dante walks back to the fire, and slowly I follow. “Wait here and stay warm.” I must have made a face because he adds, “The mare has to be fed and put in the stable. There is food on the table and a bathroom through here.”

Dante swings an ornate door open, and he pulls on a jacket. After lifting my chin, he kisses me brutally hard. His powerful tongue probes me, and it explores every inch of me. The kiss bruises my lips, and I am suddenly panting.

My knees almost cave before he pulls back, smacks my bare butt, and he is gone.

Now alone in the castle, it really dawns on me: I’m about to have sex for the very first time, and with a hot dark stranger.

Semi-naked and in bare feet, I stand on the Persian rug in front of the fire. My eyes sweep the room, and I wonder where it will happen. On the bed? Against the wall? Against the vibrating window with a view of the storm?

Oh God, yes.

I start to get nervous, and I consider running. My eyes land on a large bottle of whiskey on the table, where it sits on an old, fancy silver tray.

After pouring a small glass full, I force myself to down it. I wince, but sixty seconds later, I am starting to calm down.

As I wipe my mouth, Dante walks in pulling his steaming wet sweater and shirt off. He is now topless, and he hangs it next to my jeans.

He walks back to me, and his ripped, tanned steaming body reflects flames from the fire. He really is gorgeous. As he gets closer, I can smell suede, cinnamon, and something else. Maybe it’s his smell. His own unique signature.

Dante stops, and I gulp. My nipples pebble, exposed. As he looks into my eyes, his hands cup my breasts, and he perfectly twirls my nipples. I whimper.

“Are you still sure about this?” My heart pounds, and I am starting to feel more turned on than afraid. “There is no going back!”

I go to speak, but nothing comes out. “I…”

“Tell me you want me inside you,” Dante commands. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

25

DANTE

As Raven gets the courage to answer, I take her glass, pour myself a shot, and drink the strong, sweet liquor. “Say it,” I command, “or it’s off.” Raven nods. “Say it,” I growl.

“Fuck me,” she says, “Do what you want to me. Anything you like.”

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