Page 134 of Thorns of Silence
The awareness captured my next breath, and he dipped his head and kissed my inner thigh before sucking on the sensitive flesh. He licked me from my entrance to my clit. I moaned, my fingers digging into his scalp and gripping his hair. I felt his groan vibrate against me and deep in my core.
I wanted to beg him to take off his shirt so I could feel his muscles under my palms, but the moment his tongue thrust inside me, I forgot all about it. I moaned, scraping my nails over his scalp, feeling the burn of his stubble against my heat, and I knew I needed more of him.
He ran a rough hand down my leg and hooked it over his shoulder, spreading me wide. I should have felt embarrassed, but I didn’t. I was too far gone. He thrust his tongue inside me.In and out.Again and again.
Fisting a handful of his hair, I moved my hips as he worked me, desperate to find my release. He nipped my clit,hard,then growled with some dark, sadistic satisfaction that I felt in the pressure of his fingers on my hips. He sucked my clit, his hot, wet mouth setting every cell of me on fire.
The sensation twisted and curled as he drew out my release. I let out a needy huff, grinding harder still into his mouth, trying to tell him where I needed his attention. But he ignored me, taking his sweet time licking and sucking.
The embers of my desire burned brighter. I was rocking my hips, chasing the orgasm until I felt my muscles tighten. He moved one hand to my throat and squeezed lightly while he continued to thrust his tongue inside my pussy.
It was all I needed.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure detonated. My body trembled against him as it washed over me. It went on and on, the languid sensation pulling taut until I was nothing but putty under his touch.
My eyes fluttered open to find his gaze on me with such reverence, it made my fragile heart tremble.
He kissed my inner thigh and trailed up my stomach and over my sensitive breasts. My skin sizzled again, an empty ache forming low in my stomach.
His mouth came to mine and he groaned. He slipped his tongue in, and I could taste myself against his lips.
As he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, I reached for his shirt, trying to undo the buttons, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrist.
I tried to work myself free, but he wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t let me touch him, and all the while I lay there naked and on display.
I pulled away, frowning, and found his eyes.
“It’s staying on.” His expression was harsh, ghosts I didn’t understand hovering in his eyes, but I didn’t pause to think about it. I jumped to my feet and grabbed my clothes, feeling humiliated and betrayed all over again.
The worst part was thatIhad let it happen.
Once dressed, I stumbled out of the room, my pride in pieces. Dante followed closely behind me, but I refused to acknowledge him. I made my way toward Skye’s room, scolding myself for getting lost in lust while my daughter was one door down.
He grabbed my wrist just as I touched the doorknob.
I whirled around. “What?” I signed, clearly agitated. I noted he put a dinner jacket on, making him appear darker and formal. All traces of the passionate man gone.
We stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. His jaw flexed and my temper blazed, threatening to explode.
“I’m sorry.” My heart stilled as confusion flickered through me at his apology. But that wasn’t what tugged at my heart. It was the anguished look in his eyes. He took a tentative step, closing the distance between us. I smelled his cologne, familiarity making my lungs pinch with every breath. “I missed you, dandelion.”
My throat felt tight as warmth swarmed my chest, but hesitation and distrust had already taken root. My stomach twisted as whispers warned.Don’t trust him. He’ll break you again. Even worse, he’ll break Skye’s heart.
He chose Reina over me. He found me lacking. He didn’t pick me.Again.My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t cry in front of him. It was humiliating enough that I’d let myself be vulnerable and become lost in lust.
“Skye will be hungry soon,” I signed.
“Fiancé” or not, Dante Leone could go fuck himself.
* * *
The mouth-watering aroma of onions and garlic and spices drifted through the air as we made our way down the stairs and into the dining room. The long mahogany table that seated at least twenty people was full of food. Dishes overflowing with seafood pasta, bread, artichokes, lamb, veggies, prosciutto, and tiramisu were placed on the table.
Cesar was already seated and shot to his feet when we entered. He tilted his head in greeting, his eyes lowered to Skye with exaggerated surprise.
“And who do we have here?” he questioned with a raised brow.
Skye met his stare, not shying away. She was brave—braver than I was at her age. Cesar might not be wearing his unhinged ruthlessness on his sleeve like Dante, but there was no mistaking him for an average Joe.
