Page 4 of Possessed (Darker Steamy Shorts #2)

He's perfectly in control until the tailor's assistant, a man in his twenties, touches me in a way Dante disapproves of.

His hand lands on the curve of my butt, just checking some measurement, and Dante is up out of his chair like a shot, his hand clamping down over the young man's wrist. The assistant's eyes widen, and I can see fear blooming in them.

Dante says something to him, his voice low, but I can't make out what he says.

"Y-yes, sir," the young man stammers, pulling back. The lead tailor, a woman, quickly waves her assistant away and takes his place. I don't see him for the rest of the appointment, and I'm not sure if the possessiveness of Dante's outburst is something I like or not.

In the end, Dante orders a wide variety of clothing for me to wear, some of which I'm sure I'll never use.

But I know better than to protest or tell him no.

He orders enough dresses to make sure I'll always have something to wear for dinner or outings, and casual clothes for lounging around the penthouse.

And lingerie. That one takes me off guard, but I'm not stupid. The way he speaks to me, touches me … I know where this is heading.

The tailor leaves us alone once more, and Dante rises from his chair. "Come here."

I obey, stepping down from the dais. My heart is pounding, but I don't know if it's from nerves or excitement. His hand wraps around mine, and he pulls me into him. "Are you scared of me, Isla?"

"Yes," I whisper, looking up at him. He's so handsome, his eyes so dark, and his mouth is just inches from mine. He makes me forget everything else, and for a moment, I don't remember the reason why I'm here in the first place.

"Don't be," he breathes, the scent of his skin and cologne wrapping around me, spicy and addictive, "Everything I do to you, you will let me because you want me to do it.

" Dante's other hand cups the back of my neck, and I know he can feel my pulse, thrumming like a hummingbird's wings.

He releases my hand and runs his thumb over my bottom lip before finally letting me go.

I sway like I've been drinking, adrenaline and arousal pumping through my body in equal parts.

"Let's go, Isla," Dante rumbles, "I've got deep pockets, but not deep enough that I'd get away with doing what I want to do to you here. Let's go home."

My entire body is tingling as I follow him out to the SUV, and I know for a fact that he can tell how off-balance he makes me.

How I respond to his touch. By the time we arrive back at the penthouse, I'm on edge.

Dante is so close, and I know I should be scared of him, but I'm not.

I want him to touch me again, to kiss me, and when I glance over at him, I can see the tight set of his jaw.

We make it into the private elevator without me bursting into flames on the spot, but I feel a sudden burst of excitement and fear as the doors silently slide closed, leaving us finally alone.

Dante turns, crowding me against the elevator wall as we rise through the building. His hand shoots out to cup my jaw, head tilting down towards mine before stopping mere inches away. I'm breathing like I've run a marathon, trying to convince my legs to keep holding me upright.

"You have until the count of three to tell me no. After that, I'm kissing your smart, sweet little mouth."

My lips part, but no sound escapes.

"One," Dante's grip shifts as he tilts my head just so, his thumb stroking my lip just like he did back at the shop. I'm silent.

"Two," he takes a step closer, his chest brushing mine, my nipples hardening beneath my shirt. I should say no, I should push him away, but I don't. I don't want to. I want him to kiss me, to see how far this thing will go.

I signed my life away; I might as well enjoy it.

"Three." He doesn't wait, his lips crashing down on mine, his tongue pushing past the seam of my lips as his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. His kiss is deep, rough, and unrelenting, and I let him dominate me, my knees weak and shaking.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m drowning. I’m flying.

The elevator dings, but I barely hear it.

Dante grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the elevator, and in a few steps, we're in the penthouse with the door slamming behind us.

Dante grabs my other wrist, pinning my hands above my head as he kisses me again.

Now that we're utterly alone, he takes his time, lips ghosting over mine once, twice, before he slants his mouth over mine and his tongue slips between my lips again.

He's devouring me, just as I knew he would, and while I try to keep up, try to kiss him back with equal fervour, he's an unstoppable force.

He kisses me until I'm lightheaded, until my core is aching and desperate for relief.

I shift, trying to rub my thighs together, but Dante pulls back, his eyes dark and feral as he stares down at me. "If you're wet right now, tell me."

"I..."

"No lying, remember?"

I nod, and Dante releases one of my wrists.

His hand slips down the front of my pants, moving into my panties until his fingers slip over my soaked pussy lips.

The sensation has me bucking against him, gripping a handful of his white shirt hard with my free hand.

His grin is wicked, white teeth shining in the dark foyer.

It's the middle of the day, but the curtains are drawn.

Still, there's enough light to see my own wetness glimmering on his fingers when he pulls them out of me.

"You are fucking soaked, Isla," he growls.

"I..." I can't think of what to say, how to respond.

Dante releases me and steps back, looking down at me as I stand there, trembling and desperate.

"Strip. Now."

My hands move almost automatically, peeling off my shirt and bra before I slide my leggings and panties off. Dante watches me the entire time, not bothering to undress himself. It makes it all feel so much dirtier, him fully clothed and me bare.

When I'm completely naked, standing in front of him, Dante comes behind me and cups my breasts in his rough hands, his thumbs working the peaks in slow, agonizing circles until little cries are falling from my lips.

When he circles back to the front, I'm desperate for him to replace his fingers with his mouth, but instead, he motions to a nearby chair in the living room. "Sit."

I walk over, feeling self-conscious, and take a seat. I want to cross my legs and cover myself, but I force myself to stay still, to sit up straight. Dante takes a moment to look me over, his gaze roaming my body. "Open your legs."

Again, I obey.

"Wider," he growls, and I spread them further apart, letting him look his fill. My face is burning with embarrassment, but it's also arousal. Dante steps closer, hands dropping to my knees to push them open as much as he wants, and I'm on full display.

"I'm going to taste you," Dante says, dropping to his knees in front of me. "And I'm not stopping until I've had my fill. Don't push me away. Understand?"

Breathless, thoughtless except for the awareness of what this man is doing to me, I nod. I can't imagine a single reason I would want to push him away, anyway.

Dante grins and hooks one of my legs over his shoulder. He leans in, his nose brushing against my slick pussy, inhaling deeply.

"So fucking good," he groans, before licking a stripe along my slit.

I gasp, hips bucking up, but Dante holds me in place, keeping me still as he flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue.

He's so tall that he has to pull me forward some, hooking my other leg over his shoulder so the angle is right.

I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my entire life.

His stubble is rough against my inner thighs, but I can barely focus on the sensation.

His tongue is doing things to me that I didn't know were possible, drawing circles around my swollen bundle of nerves before licking it slowly with the flat of his tongue, before starting all over again.

I try to hold on to something, anything, but there's nothing to grip except the chair.

So I just have to take it. Take what Dante is giving me.

When he sucks my clit between his lips, it almost makes me jump out of my skin. The pleasure is so intense that it feels like a bolt of lightning, and he doesn't let up until my legs are shaking around his head.

"I'm going to … Dante, please..." I pant. I know I'm on the edge of an orgasm, and Dante knows it, too.

He doesn't raise his head to answer, instead continuing to lick and suck my pussy until I reach the crest of the wave he's been building me up to.

The sensation is so intense that I forget to breathe, letting out a long, loud moan as my body shudders with release.

My legs tighten around Dante's head as he continues to lap at my clit, dragging out every last bit of sensation from my climax.

But even when it's done, he doesn't stop.

Oh, I think. This is what he meant about having his fill.

I involuntarily twitch away when he gently lathes my oversensitive clit with his tongue, and Dante growls against my pussy, grip tightening on my thighs.

When he's satisfied I won't move again, I feel two fingers teasing my entrance before slowly sinking inside, pumping in and out a few times before he crooks them upwards to hit my g-spot, making me see stars.

Dante's attentions to my clit are feather-light now as I readjust to the sensation, but his fingers are relentless.

He works them in and out until I'm writhing on the chair, sucking my clit once more as he pushes me towards another orgasm.

He's in complete control, his pace unhurried, and I realize that he's going to make me come again, whether or not I think I can handle it.

As if sensing my thoughts, Dante lifts his head to look at me. His lips are shiny with my juices, and his eyes are full of desire, "You're going to give me another one of those sweet little orgasms, Isla," he says, voice husky. "I want to feel you come again."

"Please, please, please," I gasp, feeling my body tightening around his fingers. I'm so close to the edge, it's just a matter of time.

His head lowers once more, and I can't stop myself from burying my hands in his hair. He lets me hold him in place as I roll my hips up into his face, desperate for the friction that will push me over the precipice. I feel shameless and wild, utterly unlike myself, but I don't care.

It feels so good, and I know I'm about to come again.

My second orgasm hits me like a truck, and Dante works me through it even as I drag my nails across his scalp.

Finally, he slows his movements as I start to relax. My hands fall away from his head, my muscles losing tension, and all I can do is watch him in a sort of awe as he rises to his feet, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth, still shining with my wetness.

Then, he helps me to my feet, bracing me when my legs threaten to give out. He chuckles, scooping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs. I bury my face against his chest, his shirt soft against my cheek.

"You need some rest," he rumbles, and I'm only partially aware that he's carrying me into his room and not mine. "I'll wake you for dinner, sweet Isla."

He lays me down on the bed and pulls the covers over me, pressing a kiss to my forehead before straightening up. I want to tell him to stay, to come to bed with me and pull me into his arms, but Dante is turning to go.

Before he leaves the room and hits the light, he stops and tells me, "I changed my mind on the time frame. From now on, you will sleep in my bed."

There's no complaint in me, not when I'm surrounded by the most luxurious sheets and Dante's delicious scent. I barely register the door clicking closed before I'm asleep, muscles still trembling from the aftershocks.