Page 172 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet
And Dante?
He surprised me the most.
He wasn’t happy for me to be in that position. It was obvious by the twist in his wide mouth, like he’d swallowed a lemon. But he didn’t stop me, not even when I took a position of power and started to interrogate thestronzomyself.
Every day, even every hour, he proved to me that he was better than any man I ever could have dreamed up. He was real, raw, and as powerful as lithium.
When we finished planning with Umberto, Tore, and Frankie, Dante took me by the hand, his own crusty with dried blood, and led me from the room.
I followed blindly.
Not because I was traumatized by the violence.
But because beneath my skin, I wassizzling.
When we reached our bedroom, Dante had barely shut the door before I was on him. I pushed him hard into the wood, his breath expelling in a grunt as I tore off his black T-shirt.
“Elena,” he said, almost just to say my name, not because he wanted to stop me.
Which was good because I couldn’t stop.
I was possessed with need, my entire body shaking with it as I dropped into a crouch to drag his sweats down his thick thighs. I left them bunched at his feet, liking the idea that he had to stay exactly there or risk tripping.
“Elena,” he said again, this time on a moan as I rubbed my face at the furred junction of his leg and groin.
He smelled rich and masculine, like a man brined by a dip in the Tyrrhenian Sea. I loved the rough texture of his trimmed pubic hair against my cheek almost as much as I loved that heady smell. I breathed deeply, canting my face so I could look up at Dante as I inhaled, his cock swelling rapidly to full erection beside my forehead.
His eyes were twin black holes, sucking up every thought in my head that didn’t center around him.
“You’re so sexy,” I murmured in a voice I’d never heard before, an almost guttural tone. With a little shock, I realized I was speaking Italian to him. “I want to show you what you do to me.”
“Non hai idea di quanto sei sexy,” he told me as he raked those strong fingers through my hair, collecting it in one hand so he had a clear view of my lips nuzzling the base of his dick.
You have no idea how sexy you are.
I didn’t care.
That was the secret to Dante’s sexual power over me. Every single aspect of his person robbed me of thought, of the ability to self-criticize. My habitual voice of doubt and loathing was drowned in his scent, in the rough scrape of his deep voice against my senses and his skin on my skin. I was lost in him, less myself and more myself than I had ever been.
I loved that he thought I was sexy. I was usually too elegant, too studied, too cold to be called that.
But this wasn’t about me the way every sexual experience between us had been before.
I wanted this to be about him.
About paying homage to this big, brutal, and beautiful beast of a man.
“Put your palms flat on the door,” I told him as I wrapped my fingers around his thick base, loving my pale flesh against his dusky length, the vivid red of my nails scraping just lightly up the shaft. “Don’t move them.”
“Giving orders?” he asked in a low, tight voice that spoke of his barely leashed control.
He wasn’t the kind of man to submit.
I didn’t even want that from him, couldn’t really imagine it.
“Yes,” I said truthfully as I lapped once, kittenish, at the bottom of his plum-shaped head. “But only because I want you to see how mad I am for you. Only because I want to do things to you I’ve never even dreamed of before meeting you, and I won’t have the courage to try if you take control.”
Without hesitation, Dante pressed his palms to the door behind him and braced his legs farther apart, straining the sweatpants around his ankles, the big muscles in his thighs popping dramatically as they tensed.
