Page 35

Dante

“How are you doing, Dante?” Missy asked as we took a seat at the bar. I wanted to tell her everything that happened since we last talked openly, to release all the worry and aggravation I had bottled up inside me, but for some reason I couldn’t because I didn’t want to betray Danny. Instead, I said nothing as I watched the prospect behind the bar pour us both a glass of wine. God, I hoped it was a good year. I really needed something to ease the tension in my gut.

“Dante.”

Reaching for the wine glass the prospect placed before me, I lifted the glass, swirled the red liquid around, and took a sip. “This is good.”

“Dante, talk to me.”

“I can’t. It’s different now. Too much has happened. We’ve already pulled you in more than you should be. I had no idea you were connected to the club. I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you didn’t know. When you told me about the clubs and who you both were, I assumed Danny had looked into me. But the way you talked about Ellie being connected to the club but never mentioned my brother, told me you had no idea.”

“Just one more thing Danny lied to me about.” I lifted my glass to my lips and took a heavy drink as she leaned her head on my shoulder and smiled.

“Fuck him. Divorce him and marry me. We can have a lavender marriage.”

I looked down at her and saw her smiling up at me as I threw my head back and laughed.

“God, I needed to laugh. Problem is, he’s great in bed.”

“Fine, keep him as a side piece,” she offered.

“And Ghost will be your side piece?” I asked.

She stiffened, sitting up straighter. “What are you talking about? There is nothing between me and Ghost.”

Looking at the pretty woman, I tilted my head and gaped incredulously. “He calls you Princess .”

She sighed heavily, and I lightly bumped her shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“We met in November at a bar. We had a... moment in the bathroom.” Searing heat crept up her neck, and I grinned. Yeah, I was gonna get the 4-1-1 on that the moment we were alone. Ghost was a big boy, and I bet his fine ass she climbed him like a fucking tree.

“When we left, and I saw the motorcycle, I ran.”

“Because he was in your brother’s club?”

“I didn’t even know then he was in a club, much less that it was my brother’s club. He didn’t wear his cut. I just assumed he rode. But even that was enough to have me running for the hills.”

“So now what?” I asked.

“What do you mean? There is no what.”

“You don’t think it means something that all this shit brought you back together?”

“Dante Sharpe, are you a closeted romantic?”

“Melissa, I have never been a closeted anything,” I scoffed. “He clearly has feelings for you.”

Hiding behind her closed eyes, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t be with a biker.”

“You just asked me to marry you two minutes ago.”

“That was purely selfish.” She gave me a weak smile. I knew why, too. I wasn’t blind. I knew the woman loved my daughter. Who wouldn’t? My little girl was beautiful, sweet, and innocent. But I also understood her trepidation. Danny hadn’t been very nice to her since we arrived. Okay, he’d been downright antagonistic toward her. But even I could see she loved Danika and only wanted the best for her. As a genuine mother should.

“I won’t take Dani away from you.”

“Dante, you’re her father.”

“And you’re her mother. She’s never had one. She never even had a chance until you. Danny and I haven’t talked about it yet, but we’ll find a way to make it work. Dani needs you in her life.”

Her eyes burned with tears as she tried to smile. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into me just as I heard a grumpy bastard say, “Not a great idea to make a beautiful woman cry, Intern. Especially when her brother is a giant son of a bitch.”

“Fuck off, Bane.”

Sitting at the other end of the bar was the Soulless Sinner club doctor and the bane of the club.

Literally.

I couldn’t remember a fucking time since I’d joined the club that Montana or one of the club brothers didn’t bitch or complain about the staunch drunk doctor. Oh, don’t get me wrong. The man was clearly good at what he did. It was his bedside manner that needed work.

That and the man was clearly a drunkard.

“You didn’t hear? I’m not an intern anymore. Got my own fucking brand, thanks to Kansas and Storm.”

Bane barked out a laugh. “I bet Montana is fucking pissed. Serves the bastard right.” Downing the rest of his drink, he motioned for the prospect to refill his glass.

“Are you part of the club?” Missy asked him.

“Not this one, no. Dante here and I are brothers now, I guess.” The drunk fucker tipped his glass toward me and it sloshed over his hand before he downed the liquid again.

Great. He was on another bender.

When the prospect returned with the bottle, Bane snapped, “Just fucking leave it.”

Shaking my head, I ignored the angry drunk when Amber walked over with my daughter, who saw the grumpy man, smiled and reached for him. Bane took her from Amber’s arms, placing her on the bar in front of him.

“This is your daughter, Intern?”

I sighed. “Yea,” I confirmed, then leaned toward Missy. “The drunk bastard will never stop calling me Intern.”

“How old is she?”

“Just turned two in December.”

“She’s small.”

“She was neglected the first two years of her life. She was malnourished. But she’s actually put on a lot of weight, thanks to Melissa.”

“It’s the cookies and pancakes.” Missy smiled as Danika slapped Bane’s cheeks before he bopped her nose. Just then, the church doors opened, and Danny walked over and sat next to me at the bar.

“Is there a lawyer in this town?” Missy asked the prospect out of the blue.

“Uh, Matlock’s a lawyer. He ain’t here right now, though.”

“What do you need a lawyer for?” Amber asked.

“Their divorce,” she said, her head clicking toward me and Danny.

I snickered, trying to hold in my laughter. Woman was playing with fire, but God forgive me because I wanted to watch the burn.

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Danny grumbled.

“Melissa wants me to divorce you and marry her. Don’t worry, babe, she said I can keep you as a side piece.”

Amber barked out a laugh as Missy smiled at Danny, then we all heard a distinct growl behind us, which had Danny smiling broadly and leaning on the bar to watch the show.

Fuck!

Missy winced as she leaned toward me. “Please tell me that’s my brother behind me.”

“’fraid not, Princess .” I drawled out, and her eyes narrowed at the sarcastic glee in my tone.

“What’d I tell you about playing with fire?”

Before Missy could reply, Ghost spun her around and the devilish imp actually smiled. “Hi.”

“Get him, girl,” I whispered in her ear as she slid off the seat to face off with Ghost.

I could have told her she wasn’t gonna win, but where was the fun in that? Therefore, I wasn’t shocked when Ghost picked up the stubborn woman and carried her upstairs.

Smiling, I downed the rest of my wine and sighed.

“Oh, I know that sigh.” Amber grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Why don’t you two let me keep little bit for the night? We can spend some girly time together and her daddies can have some alone time.”

Bane grumbled and quickly covered Danika’s ears. “She’s too little to hear that shit, Amber.”

Gathering our daughter in his arms, he walked away, talking animatedly to Danika as if she were the only person in the world.

Pushing off the bar, Amber smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Grumpy. You two go have fun.”

The bedroom door clicked shut, a signal. I was a predator unleashed. Danny hadn’t even turned before I had him pinned against the wall, the rough plaster a stark contrast to the heated press of my body against his. My lips found his in a brutal claim, my tongue a viper invading the sweetness of his mouth. One hand tangled in his hair, pulling his head back, the other—a branding iron—gripped the hard, unyielding curve of his ass. The scent of his skin, sharp and musky, filled my nostrils, a heady perfume.

He bucked, a low groan rumbling in his chest, his fingers digging into my back, the touch sending tremors down my spine. The wine, the weeks of simmering frustration, it all exploded in a raw, primal need that consumed me. This wasn’t seduction; this was conquest. I didn’t care about games. I needed him now.

His gaping shirt, ripped from his shoulders, revealed a tapestry of muscle and ink under the harsh light. My tongue found his nipple, a searing brand. He arched, a strangled cry escaping his lips, and I cupped his chest, kneading, tormenting, savoring the tremor of his surrender. The taste of his skin, the feel of his flesh beneath my fingertips, the heat radiating from his body... it was intoxicating.

I moved to his other nipple, my body grinding against his, the rigid length of him pressed hard against my own. A promise of release, of annihilation. His pants fell to the floor in a heap, along with his pride. With each desperate kick, his shoes flung off, his vulnerability laid bare. I devoured his mouth again, one hand now tracing the frantic rhythm of his erection, feeling the slick silk of his skin beneath my fingers. God, the power of it. The absolute, utter power.

The feel of his cock in my hand was a brutal affirmation, a testament to my dominance. I pushed him harder against the wall, my nails lightly digging into his skin. He tried to return the favor, fumbling with my shirt, but I wouldn’t grant him such easy comfort. I slapped his hands away, a sharp command, before seizing his boxers and dragging him towards the bed.

My frantic kiss renewed, and I still didn’t release him.

There was no surrender. Not tonight.

Tonight, his breath hitched, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and thrilling anticipation.

Tonight, he was mine.

Completely and utterly mine.

To command.

To possess.

To break.

He hit the mattress with a muffled thud; the air knocked from his lungs. Shock, raw and white-hot, etched itself onto his face before I was on him, a predator claiming its prey. My weight crushed him, my tongue a brutal invasion in his mouth, silenced by his nascent rage. His flailing hands were pinned above his head, his struggles weak against my brutal strength. I pulled back, a predatory gleam in my eyes.

“You’re mine tonight, lover. Relax and enjoy it.” My threat hung unspoken, a promise of pain and pleasure intertwined.

The fight drained from him. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word a ragged whisper against the onslaught of my kisses. His neck, a canvas of pale skin, throbbed under the fervent assault of my lips and teeth. Each flick of my tongue across his nipples drew a sharp intake of breath and had his body arching uncontrollably under my touch. His skin, taut and slick with sweat, tasted of fear and arousal, a heady mix that ignited something primal within me.

“Get naked, baby. Let me feel you.” His voice was a silken caress, yet his command was absolute. Ignoring his plea, I continued my descent, tracing a fiery path down his stomach, my tongue a branding iron searing his skin. The heat of his body radiated through me. Then, with a sudden, deliberate movement, I was off him, on the floor, his hands freed for a moment, only to be consumed by my face, buried deep in the intoxicating scent and heat of his groin, his hardness throbbing against my cheek. His musk—soap and sweat mingling—filled my nostrils, primal and intoxicating.

His fingers tangled in my hair as I trailed my hands down his legs, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the silken smoothness of his ass. With a swift, brutal motion, I flipped him onto his stomach, my touch leaving no room for hesitation. The top of his briefs fell away, revealing the taut curve of his buttocks. I cupped them, my hands molding the firm globes, spreading the cheeks, reveling in their smooth perfection. His protest died unspoken as my tongue found its mark, a searing brand upon his puckered hole. The scent of his soap battled with the heady musk of his sweat; a potent cocktail that drove me wild.

This was mine. Completely. And utterly. Mine.

The scent of his arousal filled my nostrils as I devoured the feast before me. My tongue, a predator, explored the taut seam of his entrance, each lick a transgression, a violation that sent shivers down his spine. His moans, raw and guttural, were a symphony of surrender, the frantic scrabbling of his fingers against the sheets a desperate plea for more. I savored his escalating pleasure, a power I wielded like a weapon, pushing him to the precipice.

A playful nip to his cheek, a sharp smack to the other—the contrast jolted him, a spark igniting a wildfire. He recoiled, then thrashed against me, a desperate, beautiful struggle against the intoxicating pleasure I inflicted. I found the sweet spot between his cheeks, my fingers sinking into the soft flesh, eliciting another gasp with a swift, deliberate smack. He parted for me, a silent invitation to his depths. I plunged my tongue inside, deep, a conquest both brutal and tender.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, a raw sound that sent a thrill of triumph through me. His body bucked beneath me, a convulsive dance of pure ecstasy. Our mingled fluids, a testament to our shared transgression, traced a glistening path down my chin. Meticulously, I probed, mapping the contours of his tight, exquisite hole, the wet smack of my withdrawal echoing in the tense silence.

With a swift, predatory movement, I flipped him onto his back, tearing away his boxers to reveal the throbbing, potent length beneath. The urge to claim him, to suckle his leaking pipe, was a primal need, a dangerous tide threatening to consume me. Yet, I resisted, my control a heady intoxicant. Instead, I pressed my body against his, our cocks a friction-filled promise separated only by the thin barrier of my shorts. I crushed my mouth to his, letting him taste the tang of himself, the intoxicating blend of our desires.

“Get naked, baby,” he urged once more, his voice thick with need, his body straining against mine. I obeyed only partially. I rose, straddling his firm belly, my ass a provocative weight on his straining length. Slowly, deliberately, I peeled off my shirt, revealing the hard-won muscle beneath, sculpted evidence of my discipline. His fingers, hesitant at first, traced the lines of my body, acknowledging the dedication, the power. I captured his finger, drawing it to my mouth. I didn’t just swallow it; I devoured it, a tantalizing preview of the exquisite torment to come.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpered, the sound a desperate plea. I felt his relentless grind against my ass, a silent promise of the release he craved. He wanted me, needed me, but tonight, I held the reins. I withdrew his finger, trailing the slick, saliva-coated digit down my chest, towards the waistband of my shorts. His fingers snagged the fabric, tugging desperately.

“Are you going to be a good boy?” I purred, the slow gyration of my hips a deliberate torment.

“Yes,” he breathed, the word barely audible, a broken whisper of surrender.

A predatory grin stretched across my lips as I descended, my knees sinking into the plush carpet between his spread legs. The thick, corded flesh of his cock, throbbing with barely contained excitement, was a mere breath from my mouth. The scent of him—musky, primal, and overwhelmingly masculine—filled my nostrils. I felt the heat radiating from his body, a palpable energy that thrummed against my own. His skin, slick with sweat, glistened under the dim light. I cupped his aching hardness, the pulsing power of it a physical shock in my hand. The head, slick with pre-cum, glistened like a pearl, begging to be tasted. My tongue, a sinuous serpent, encircled it, savoring the sweet, salty tang.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he groaned, the sound raw and desperate.

I trailed my tongue down his length, the silken friction driving him wild. His body writhed in a frantic symphony of need. Each shuddering breath, each guttural moan, was a delicious offering to my senses. His balls, plump and heavy in my hand, felt like warm, smooth stones. One by one, I took them into my mouth, reveling in their fullness, his frantic pleas lost in a sea of my own dark pleasure. The taste of him, unique and intoxicating, lingered on my tongue.

I peeled my own shorts away, the rough fabric scratching against my skin as I exposed myself. But no, not yet. I needed more. More of his desperate need, his helpless surrender. Rising, I let my shorts pool around my ankles; the fabric sliding against my thighs as I trailed my tongue back up his shaft, teasing, tormenting, circling the sensitive head.

“Fuck, Dante,” he begged, my name a ragged whisper escaping his lips.

I smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of my lips. Then, like a python seizing its prey, I took him whole. Deep, slow, and deliberate, I swallowed him, savoring the way he filled my mouth, the taste of him, the heat, the sheer power of him. A guttural cry ripped from his throat as I bottomed out, nestled within the dense curl of his black pubic hair, before slowly, agonizingly, withdrawing and repeating the motion, each stroke an act of possession. The tightening of his balls, the anticipation, built to an unbearable crescendo.

Standing, I presented my own hard cock, slick and pulsing, for his inspection. His legs spread wide, his own organ throbbing against his stomach, a desperate plea.

“Dante... what are you doing?” he gasped, a mixture of terror and arousal in his voice.

Grinning, I kneeled between his legs, pushing them further apart. My fingers stroked my own length, the friction intensifying my arousal.

“I told you, lover,” I purred, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Tonight... you are mine.”

With one knee braced on the rumpled sheets, and the other planted hard on the floor, I lowered myself onto Danny, the weight of my anticipation a physical pressure. My shaft, a rod of steel, found its mark in the tight heat of his ass. A guttural groan ripped from Danny’s throat, a sound both pained and ecstatic as I drove into him. The scent of his sweat, sharp and musky, filled my nostrils, mingling with the stale scent of the room.

My hand, a branding iron, raked down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Each thrust was a violation, a conquest, the friction igniting a blaze within him. Danny’s eyes rolled back, his face a mask of agonized pleasure, his mouth a silent scream pressed against the pillow. He was a vessel, brimming with sensation, each fiber of his being screaming in response to my invasion.

Leaning closer, my breath hot against his ear, I hissed, “You like this, don’t you?” My voice was a venomous caress, a stark contrast to the raw animal hunger tearing through me. He tried to answer, a choked whimper the only reply as I withdrew and plunged deeper, the slick heat of his body wrapping around me.

My hands, fists clenched tight on his hips, held him captive, a sacrifice offered at the altar of my desire. The tempo increased, a relentless pounding rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. His fingers dug into the sheets, tearing at the fabric, each ragged breath a testament to my power. I craved his surrender, his desperate pleas, the admission that he was mine, utterly and completely mine.

With a brutal, deliberate twist, I shifted the angle, hunting for the precise point that would break him, the point of ultimate release. A strangled gasp escaped him. “There... God, right there...” His voice was a broken whisper, raw with need. I found it—the sweet spot where pleasure bled into pain—and his cry shattered the silence, a primal scream of pure, unadulterated want as I watched his dick spew streams of cum all over his beautiful chest. His body arched, taut as a drawn bowstring, as I pounded into him, each thrust a devastating blow.

The bed groaned under the weight of our coupling. Its creaks were a morbid counterpoint to Danny’s ragged moans. I pulled back, watching him writhe, his chest heaving, his nipples tight and erect, his skin glistening with sweat. The sight of him, beautiful and broken, fueled the fire within me, igniting my own release. I drove myself towards the edge, faster, harder, until my explosion consumed me, a torrent of raw power that left me spent and trembling in its aftermath.