Page 13

Chapter 13

DANTE

At some point during my shift, I managed to get past the point of exhaustion to a wired state that leaves me jittery and wound too tight. Since I only covered part of Damnation’s shift, I didn’t get any stage time, just a few hours slinging drinks and dodging groping hands. That’s probably half the reason I’m tense; I haven’t danced in days. That itchy, restless feeling under my skin begs me to slip on my baggy clothes and my bloodstained brass knuckles and go for a walk.

The gentle pressure of Salvatore’s hand on my lower back as we ride the elevator up to his apartment is an irritating reminder that I can’t go out. At least not without having to answer a lot of questions first and agreeing to let him go with me to protect me. I grind my teeth, a headache immediately blooming at the base of my skull.

I stare at myself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors, waiting for its painfully slow ascent to the top floor to end. I look like an absolute mess, still wearing Sal’s shirt, sloppily misbuttoned on my way out of the club, with my unwashed jeans that still have sand in them from the desert. My lipstick is smeared again, leaving my chin stained a shade of pink. I reapplied it twice, but every time I did, Salvatore ruined it all over again until I gave up and spent the last hour of my shift with my lips half-naked with uneven red splotches.

The doors finally slide open, and he pulls his keys out of his pocket to unlock the apartment door. He frowns as soon as he slides the key into the lock.

“Oh shit, sorry, I couldn’t lock up when I left. I don’t have a key.” I did pause to worry about that for half a second on my way out, but honestly, locking up felt less important than getting the hell out of this quiet apartment where I was all alone with my thoughts. He slides the key back into his pocket and then reaches inside his jacket to pull out his gun.

“Shooting me seems like a bit of an overreaction,” I deadpan, eyeing the pistol in his hand.

“Relax, Angioletto, I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow. Wait here while I check the apartment.”

“There’s no way whoever is following me had time to see us kissing at Wild, figure out where you live, and break in over the last three hours.” I reach for the doorknob, but he loops his non-gun-wielding arm around me to spin me away from the door.

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” he argues. “Besides, you aren’t the only one with enemies.”

His voice is low and dangerous, but disturbingly casual considering he’s talking about someone potentially breaking into his apartment to kill him. Obviously, it’s not news to me that he’s in the Mafia or that his lifestyle is risky, but I don’t think the reality of all of it sank in until right now. I left his apartment unlocked, there could be someone inside who wants to kill him, and Salvatore is more than willing to kill that person first.

I swallow hard, but he doesn’t pause. He kisses my cheek, nudges me off to the side so I’m not near the door, then cocks his gun before he enters the apartment. My stomach knots and I swallow down the manic sort-of laugh that bubbles in my throat. I think I’m a badass because I skulk around the streets at night and beat up assholes who never saw it coming, but I’ve never killed anyone. Could I do it if I had to? I’d like to think so. A familiar feeling of rage and hatred churns in my gut, solidifying my resolve. If it’s between me and Don, yeah, I’ll fucking kill him.

Salvatore returns a minute later without his gun.

“All clear.”

His apartment is exactly what I would have imagined if I’d ever bothered wondering. It’s minimalist and modern, masculine, with lots of dark wood and shiny steel. I slip out of my shoes, so the heels won’t scuff the wood floors, and leave them by the door while he locks the deadbolt and arms the alarm system. He gave me the tour earlier before he had to run off for his meeting. He was right, his place is twice as big as mine with a much better view and newer appliances. It doesn’t feel homey though. I just can’t imagine curling up on a leather couch to unwind with my needlepoint. But it’s fine. I don’t have to feel at home here because it’s not my home. I’ll be back in my own place with absolutely no one taking my picture or threatening me in no time.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his suit jacket.

I shake my head. I raided his fridge and made myself a sandwich before I went to work. Besides, when I’m keyed up and jittery like this, food is the last thing on my mind.

He rolls up his sleeves and I watch with mild fasciation. Aside from seeing him naked, this is the most casual I’ve ever seen him. For some reason I get the feeling that more people have seen him naked than have seen him with his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up.

“Drink?” he offers next, and I shake my head again.

“I don’t drink much. That martini at the piano bar was basically my limit for the month.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile and his eyes spark with interest. “See, now if I’d known that, your trick with the flask wouldn’t have worked.”

“Damn, now I’ll have to come up with a different plan the next time I decide to kidnap you.” I’m just giving him a hard time like I always do, so why do I get the strangest feeling that I might be flirting with him? I shake my head a little harder, this time with the hope of setting my wandering thoughts straight. I don’t like Salvatore, he’s just my husband.

“How do you usually like to unwind at the end of the night?” he asks, leaning against the back of the couch, a strand of his well-coiffed hair falling over his forehead, his unbuttoned shirt falling open just enough for me to see a hint of his dark chest hair.

“Yeah, I’m not going to tell you that.” I chuckle.

“Come on, Angioletto, you’re not going to shock me. Drugs? Sex?” That blaze of curiosity and interest is still lighting up his eyes, which are fixed on me like I’ve somehow tricked him into thinking I’m the most interesting person alive.

I fiddle with the buttons on my shirt and waffle for a minute. What could it really hurt to tell him? It’s not like he’s going to turn me in to the police. If anything, he’ll probably think my favorite hobby is adorably tame compared to his day-to-day.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” I hedge, and his eyes shine even brighter. “When I have extra energy that I need to burn off, I put on clothes that make me look small and young, and I go for a walk in a bad neighborhood.” His whole expression darkens instantly, his shoulders tensing and his jaw ticking. I’m not sure when I got so close to him, but without thinking, I put my hands on his chest to soothe him before he decides to start lecturing me about safety or demanding to know who’s hurt me so he can whip his gun out and wave it around again. “And when someone takes the bait, I beat the hell out of them to teach them a lesson.”

The smoldering ember of worry and rage in his eyes ignites into a look so full of heat it threatens to burn me alive.

“Hell, Angel, that might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He groans, the deep sound going straight to my cock. “You know you can’t go out like that until this threat has been dealt with though, right?”

I sigh. I fucking knew he was going to say that, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration.

“What am I supposed to do to relax then?” Sure, I enjoy needlepoint, but it’s not active enough to scratch this particular itch.

His hand finds its way onto my ass, and he pulls me fully against him. Without my shoes on, I have to tilt my head to look at him.

“I can think of a couple of ideas,” he murmurs. His stiff cock nudges at my belly. I squirm in his grip and glare at him.

“Sex doesn’t relax me,” I grit out, wriggling harder in his tightening grip, my own cock betraying me by thickening against his thigh. Why am I fighting this? My body wants it, I might even be willing to admit I enjoyed it before.

Maybe because he keeps stubbornly insisting I’m a brat. Or maybe it’s the fucking entitlement. He demanded sex in exchange for protection, and I don’t want it to be that easy for him. I don’t want him to think he owns me just because I was desperate enough to ask for help.

“You mean Domming someone doesn’t relax you.” He slides his hands up my back, underneath my shirt. The touch is unnervingly tender. It makes me want to bite him, to squirm harder, to fight him just enough to make this something rough, at least.

“You are the most stubborn asshole I’ve met in my life,” I mutter, shoving at his chest.

He chuckles and, to my surprise, lets go of me.

“There’s my brat.” He moves to cup my chin, but I bat his hand away and he just grins wider.

“Stop trying to make this something it’s not,” I growl. “You want my ass, it’s legally yours. So why don’t we cut through the bullshit. Bend me over the couch and take what I already promised you.”

“It’s cute that you think I’m the one twisting this into something it’s not.” He smirks and slips his tie off, then starts down the hallway.

Is he seriously walking away from me right now? Outrage pulses through me, going straight to my cock. Like hell is he getting the last word.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I say, trailing him into the bedroom and darting my hand out to keep him from closing the door when he steps into the attached bathroom.

He tosses his tie into the hamper in the corner and turns on the shower so it can start heating up.

“If I’m forcing this, Angioletto, then why haven’t you used your safeword?” he asks, ignoring my question to turn this around on me while he unbuttons his shirt and adds it to the hamper.

“You made me agree to have sex with you in exchange for protection.” I step into his space just to make myself a nuisance while he undoes his belt and takes off his pants since I don’t have much power here aside from annoying him.

“Did I?” He arches an eyebrow, and I make a frustrated noise.

“You are so fucking infuriating.” My fingers have a mind of their own, undoing the buttons of my shirt while I rage at him. “I’m the pretty prize, the dancer everyone wants to fuck. So, get it over with. Fuck me, use me, take what you’re entitled to now that your ring is on my finger.”

My chest heaves with uneven breaths as I toss the last of my clothes into the hamper with his. Salvatore is just as naked as I am, except his breathing is even and his face isn’t showing anything other than serene amusement. His body tells a slightly different story though, his cock hard and heavy just like mine as we stand facing each other with only a few inches of space between us.

“I love your rage, Angel, but I hate whoever gave it to you,” he murmurs, turning and sliding the glass shower door aside so he can step in.

Still moving on autopilot, I’m right behind him. The hot water pelts me from multiple angles, and I immediately shake my head to clear my vision. Salvatore’s hands wrap around my forearms like a vice, and before I can react, he spins me around towards the wall. My hands fly up to brace myself and my breath catches. He presses himself against me from behind, his thick cock nestling between my ass cheeks.

“I’m not going to pretend I don’t want this perky ass of yours, Dante,” he growls. For some reason my name on his lips instead of that stupid nickname jolts me.

I squirm against him. The teasing slide of his shaft over my hole and the weight of his body holding me in place sends tendrils of heat through me. He drags his tongue along the curve of my neck, and I swallow down a whimper.

“But I’m not going to take it until you beg me,” he murmurs. “And I don’t mean the kind of half-assed begging I settled for in Los Vespar.”

He wraps one hand around my wrists and pins them to the wall just above my head, then snakes his other arm around me.

“Fuck you.” Do I sound breathless or pissed off? Hard to say.

“Now that’s a different negotiation altogether, Angioletto,” he purrs, kissing along the same path he licked just a minute ago while he rolls his hips slowly, grinding between my ass cheeks. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”

Hot water rains down between us, making our skin slick without doing anything to ease the friction as he rolls his hips again and sucks a bruise right onto the crook of my neck. He slides his free hand along my belly, no doubt feeling the unintentional quiver as I hold back another throaty, needy sound. My cock spasms against the warm tile wall.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, I want you flushed and trembling, your cock twitching impatiently. I want you gasping my name and pleading with me to fill this sweet hole of yours.” His cockhead catches against my rim on his next thrust and I brace myself for him to immediately contradict everything he’s saying and force his way inside me anyway. “And, most importantly, I don’t want there to be even a sliver of a doubt that you want it just as much as I do.”

He pinches my nipple, and I can’t stop myself from moaning this time, arching to push my ass out and letting my head fall back against his shoulder.

“Don’t hold your breath.” My taunt is undermined by the twitch of my hips as I grind myself against him shamelessly.

His head catches on my rim again and I gasp out loud, my cock stiffening and my balls tightening.

“I’m a patient man.” He laves his tongue along the shell of my ear and teases my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Right, you’re going to be happy to just keep jerking me off and sucking me. You have a limit, Salvatore. Eventually you’ll force me to my knees and take what you want.”

He makes a dangerous sound in his throat and spins me around again, pressing me right back against the wall with my hands still pinned over my head. But we’re face to face now. His hot lips find mine and he bends his knees so that his next thrust has our cocks dragging against each other.

“If you think I’m not getting anything out of this, Angel, you’re deluding yourself even more than I thought,” he rumbles, and then dives in for another tongue-heavy kiss, lifting me onto my tiptoes with every thrust.

I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he didn’t fuck me when he had me pinned and helpless just a minute ago. It’s like I’m trying to add two plus two and keep coming up with five. But even though I can’t make it make sense, it still unravels some of the resistance inside of me. Instead of fighting and scratching and screaming to release all the tension built up inside me, I give in to the feeling of his hands around my wrists and his cock grinding against mine. I let myself focus on the feeling of his thighs between mine, the swing of his sac, and the heat of his tongue in my mouth. For just a few minutes, I let all of the tight, knotted things inside of me relax and I test out what it feels like to trust Salvatore. Not forever, not real trust, but even temporary is more than I’ve ever given anyone before.

As if he can feel the shift inside me, he groans into my mouth and deepens the kiss. Precum dribbles from my slit, mixing with the hot water running down our shafts. Our muffled grunts and moans echo off the tiles. He lets go of my wrists and hoists me into his arms without breaking the kiss. I’m happy just to let him manhandle me, wrapping my legs loosely around his waist and trusting him to hold me up. He presses my back to the wall again and his thrusts get faster and more urgent. His cockhead catches against my frenulum piercing with every roll of his hips, sending sparks of pleasure down my shaft and all the way to my toes.

His kiss gets rougher, nipping at my lips and demanding more, like he wants to devour me. And I give in to all of it, moaning shamelessly, letting him take what he wants because some stupid, naive part of me actually believes he won’t take more than I’m willing to give. And he doesn’t. His cock is desperately hard and leaking against mine with every thrust, and it would be so easy for him to lift me a little higher and sink inside me, but he doesn’t.

“I love the fire in your eyes when you dance, Angioletto,” he murmurs, as breathless as I am now. “I live to see that spark of violence in your face just before you lash out at anyone who tries to touch you.”

How does he have the ability to form words right now? All I can do is gasp his name and dig my fingers into his slick, warm skin. I can feel his wedding ring biting into my thigh as he tightens his grip on me, fucking me against the wall faster, harder, his thrusts becoming wild and as desperate as I feel. I rake my fingernails down his back, hoping he’ll feel the sting tomorrow and think of me.

Salvatore groans and his cock stiffens against mine. The hot splash of his cum on my skin has my eyes rolling back and my toes curling. Another rope of his release lands on the sensitive, throbbing head of my cock and I’m done for. I let my head fall back against the wall with a soft thud and he buries his face in my throat, kissing and nibbling my Adam’s apple as I cry out. My cock pulses against his, throbbing and twitching, my cum joining his, dripping down our shafts and slicking the way as he continues to grind against me, chasing every wave of our orgasms until our balls are drained and my whole body feels limp.

“Feeling relaxed?”

It’s hard to feel annoyed by the smugness in Salvatore’s question. Even harder when he presses a few more kisses along the edge of my jaw and then reaches for the bodywash without waiting for my answer. And if my knees weren’t feeling so weak and too many hours without sleep weren’t catching up with me, I would absolutely slap him for filling his hands with soap like he’s going to bathe me or something equally ridiculous.

As it is, I am delirious with exhaustion, so I just close my eyes, lean against him, and let his big, strong hands wash me.