Page 60 of Unorthodox
Dante swallows, his fingers skimming across the tops of my breasts as he closes his eyes a second, like he’s fighting an internal battle with himself. “Later,” he says softly, “later tonight.”
Those flutters in my stomach turn to knots. “Where is he?”
Dante’s hazel eyes lock on mine, and his fingers graze my collarbone. “I don’t know.” I’m not sure, but I don’t think he’s lying, the way he’s looking at me. The way he said it. I once overheard my father tell his guards he always knew when a man lied.“Their eye contact is shit. Real men honor their commitments and real mendon’t look away.”
I think about Max’s unnerving habit of staring without blinking.
My father was full of shit.
“Then we should hurry up,” I tell Dante with a soft smile, running my hands down his biceps, shifting my hips underneath him.
He looks down, between us, and I see him bite his lip.
Warmth courses through me, but as Dante’s fingers skim over my stomach, so agonizingly slow that my mind starts to work overtime, panicking about all the things thatcouldgo wrong with this, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing.
But then another thought replaces my anxiety:“At least she gets used like a whore should.”Max’s words from four nights ago.
Fuck you, Max.
Dante’s fingers find my inner thigh, and he picks his head up to look at me. As if he’s checking on me. Again, I wonder where he came from. Why he’s so careful. What those letters and numbers on his forearm mean.
What hell he survived before he found a home with Max. Why he’s willing to betray him for someone he barely knows.
“Are you okay?” he asks me quietly.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I exhale, still gripping Dante’s upper arms. Nodding, I force a smile. “Yes.” I suck my lip between my teeth, looking up at him through my lashes. “I told you,” I say softly, “this isn’t my first time.”
With that, he slants his mouth over mine, and warmth flushes through me. I slide my hands down his arms, his torso, savoring the hard feel of him. When I reach the waistband of his boxers, I pull them down, and he helps me. When they get far enough down his legs, he uses his foot to push them off.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I feel his hard cock against my stomach as he presses closer to me.
“You taste so good,” he groans, his breath skating over my lips as he breaks away for a moment so we can breathe.
I arch myself up, wanting him closer. He reaches between us as he devours my mouth again, and I spread my thighs wider.
His cock nudges against my wet entrance. He feels bigger than what I was used to, and I tense. He notices. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises me, and it sounds like that. A promise. Something real.
Something Max would never do.
Neversay.
He pushes into me and I gasp, my arms wrapped tight around his back, nails skimming the hard muscles of his shoulder. Aside from a slight pressure, it doesn’t hurt.
In fact, it feels far better than anything I’ve ever had. But maybe that’s because it’s wrapped up in promises.
This is it.
This is the way out.
“Breathe,” he whispers over my mouth, almost amused, one hand planted beside my head, the other still wrapped around himself as he slowly plunges deeper into me.
I take a breath, and his eyes search mine as he moves his hand to the bed, boxing me in underneath him. I inhale, taking in his warm, masculine scent. Like vanilla dipped in darkness.
What happened to you? Why are you here?I want to ask him so many things, want to tell him so many, too. But as he pushes further into me, all of my questions are shattered in my mind, my entire focus onhim.
“You feel so damn good,” he says softly, and he thrusts his hips slowly, driving further in.
I can’t hold back his name on my mouth as pleasure shoots through me as he stretches me.
