Page 11 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

A SATISFIED growl rumbled in his chest, and then he sank into her, inch by inch, filling her completely.

Jazz gasped, her head tipping back, overwhelmed by the stretch, the depth, the sheer possession of it.

He gave her a moment to adjust, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat, before he began tomove.

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, his strokes deep and unrelenting.

Each thrust was a silent claim, an unspoken declaration that sent ripples of pleasure and uncertainty coursing through her.

She clung to him, torn between surrender and resistance, overwhelmed by the depth of what was happening betweenthem.

This wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something that left her breathless and shaken in ways she couldn’t yet name. Her body welcomed him, molding to him, matching his rhythm as pleasure built once more, sharp and consuming.

Titus watched her beneath him, his gaze locked onto her face, as if memorizing every reaction, every sound she made.

Her lips were parted, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and in her eyes, he saw something raw, something unguarded.

It wasn’t just pleasure—it was surrender, the realization that she was his in this moment, that she had given herself over to him completely.

And yet, there was a flicker of hesitation beneath it all, aquestion she wasn’t ready to ask. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering there for a beat longer than necessary, his expression unreadable as he murmured, “You’re beautiful like this, Jazz.”

And when she started to unravel, when her nails scraped down his back and her moans turned breathless and desperate, he let go of his restraint.

He took her harder, faster, chasing the pleasure that coiled between them like a live wire. The room blurred around them, nothing existing beyond the slide of skin against skin, the rough drag of his breath against her ear, the way he filled her so completely she thought she might come undone.

When she finally came apart around him, her body tightening, pulsing, he followed with a deep, shuddering groan, spilling into her with a final, punishing thrust.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Their bodies were tangled, their breaths uneven, the seriousness of what had just happened pressing betweenthem.

Then, slowly, Titus eased onto his side, pulling her against him, keeping her close. His hand slid over her back in slow, soothing strokes, his warmth grounding her in the aftermath. The tenderness caught her off guard, unexpected in the wake of the raw intensity they’d just shared.

Her body, sensitive from his touch, melted into him, yet a flicker of unease stirred beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—the way he had unraveled her so effortlessly, or the way she wanted to stay wrapped in his arms, as if she belonged there.

She wasn’t used to this—the tenderness after the storm, the quiet intimacy that felt almost more dangerous than the fire between them.

He didn’t speak right away, but the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he held her without hesitation, said enough.

For a moment, there was no need for words.

His hand traced lazy circles along her shoulders.

Jazz didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to process the way she felt—sated, raw, and undeniably his. She swallowed, forcing herself to break the silence. “Titus...”

“Catch your breath while you can, Jazz,” he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing her temple. “We’re not done yet.”

Before she could respond, he moved, rolling her onto her back with effortless strength, his body pressing her into the mattress once more. The warmth of his skin against hers reignited the embers smoldering beneath the surface, the fire between them never fully extinguished.

She gasped as his mouth descended, his lips trailing a path of heat down her throat, across her collarbone, lower still.

His hands followed, mapping her body with an unhurried certainty, as if reacquainting himself with every inch of her.

The ache he had left in her hadn’t faded, but he didn’t seem interested in giving her time to recover.

Titus reached her breasts, capturing one tight peak in his mouth, sucking hard enough to send a blistering pulse of pleasure straight through her.

Jazz moaned, her back arching instinctively, pressing herself into his touch.

His other hand skimmed lower, fingers ghosting over the sensitive flesh between her thighs, teasing, coaxing, making her body respond to him all over again.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “I don’t think you’re as tired as you thought.”

Jazz opened her mouth to argue, to protest that he was insatiable, but all that came out was a broken whimper as he slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right.

Her entire body tensed, pleasure licking at her nerves like fire.

He worked her open again, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves that had her teetering on the edge almost instantly.

Titus lifted his head, watching her through hooded eyes, adark hunger etched into every hard line of his face. “Come for me again, Jazz. Iwant to feel you break apart for me.”

His command sent a rush of heat spiraling through her, and with another stroke, another flick of his wrist, she did.

Her body clenched around him, pleasure rolling over her in waves, leaving her breathless, boneless beneath him.

He didn’t stop, didn’t let her come down fully before he was positioning himself between her thighs again, the hard, unrelenting length of him pressing against her entrance.

“Titus—” Her voice was nothing but a gasp, aplea, but she didn’t know if she was begging for mercy ormore.

He kissed her then, swallowing whatever words she might have spoken, and thrust into her in one smooth, claiming stroke. Her body welcomed him, still pulsing from the orgasm he had just pulled from her, gripping him tight, refusing to letgo.

He groaned against her lips, his restraint slipping as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving deeper, harder, making her see stars. Jazz clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, lost in the feel of him, the sheer force of his possession.

“Mine,” he growled into her ear, his hand wrapping around her thigh, angling her just the way he wanted. “Say it.”

She whimpered, her head falling back against the pillows. “Yours.”

Titus drove into her again, his movements purposeful, each stroke sending pleasure crashing through her like a rising tide. He held her firm beneath him, savoring the way her body responded, the way she writhed against him, lost in sensation.

His name slipped from her lips in a breathless moan, and he growled his approval, thrusting deeper, harder, chasing the fire between them.

He didn’t let up, didn’t slow, chasing his own pleasure as he drove her toward hers, until she was unraveling beneath him again, her release tearing through her like a storm.

The sensation dragged him over the edge with her, his body tightening, his breath ragged as he found his own release, spilling into her with one final, shuddering thrust.

For long moments, neither of them moved. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breathing ragged, tangled in each other. Titus didn’t pull away immediately, keeping her close, as if reluctant to sever the connection between them justyet.

Finally, he shifted onto his side, drawing her with him, tucking her snugly against his chest. His grip was unyielding, as if he needed to keep her close, to make sure she was still there. Jazz let out a slow breath, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

She had never been held like this before, with a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt. It should have made her feel safe. Instead, it unsettled her—because for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or stay exactly where shewas.

His lips pressed softly against her forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat before he pulledback.

Jazz barely had the energy to move, let alone think, but she forced herself to look up at him, searching his face for something she couldn’t quitename.

Titus gazed at her, his expression dark with pleasure, apossessive edge tightening his grip as he ran a slow hand down her back.

He took in every detail—the way she trembled against him, the lingering flush on her skin, the way her breath shuddered in the aftermath.

Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, not just for the way he had unraveled her, but because she hadn’t pulled away. That should have unsettledhim.

He had expected hesitation, resistance—anything but this quiet surrender.

It wasn’t just about dominance anymore, wasn’t just about proving she was his.

It was something else, something creeping beneath his skin, making him want more than her body, more than just this moment.

Because she was still here, tangled up in him, and he wasn’t about to let hergo.

“I told you we weren’t done yet.”

Exhaustion clung to her, her limbs heavy, her breath uneven from what he had just done to her.

Titus felt the subtle tremors running through her, the way her body instinctively sought him even as she tried to steady herself.

She tucked herself against his chest, her skin warm against his, and he braced himself for what usually came next—distance, withdrawal, the unspoken need for space.

But she didn’t pullaway.