King of Wrath (Kings of Sin)

I should push him off.

We hadn’t resolved the heart of our issues yet, and kissing—or more—would only complicate things further.

I should push him off.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I threaded my fingers through his hair and succumbed to the skillful assault on my senses.

The firm grip on the back of my neck. The expert pressure of his lips.

The way Dante’s body molded to mine, all hard muscle and heat.

His mouth moved over mine, hot and demanding. Pleasure fogged my senses as the rich, bold taste of him invaded my mouth.

Our kiss in Bali had been passionate but impulsive. This? This was hard. Primal. Addicting.

My worries from earlier that day melted into nothing, and I instinctively curved my body into his, seeking more contact, more warmth, more.

I’d kissed my fair share of men over the years, but none had ever kissed me like this.

Like they were a conqueror hellbent on breaching my defenses.

Like they were trapped in the desert and I was their last hope for salvation.

A soft gasp escaped when Dante hooked my legs around his waist and carried me out of the room without breaking our kiss.

Blurry glimpses of gilt-framed paintings and golden wall sconces passed through my peripheral vision as he navigated us through the maze of hallways.

When we reached his room, he kicked the door shut behind us and set me down, his breath as ragged as my own.

Under any other circumstances, I would’ve savored my first time in his private sanctuary, but I caught only the faintest impression of expensive oak and charcoal before his mouth was on mine again.

I pushed his jacket off his shoulders while he unzipped my dress. Our movements were frantic, almost desperate, as we tore our clothes off.

His shirt. My bra. His pants.

They fell away with tugs and pulls, leaving only heat and bare skin behind.

We broke apart so Dante could roll on a condom, and my mouth dried at the sight before me. I’d seen him shirtless in Bali, but this was different somehow. His body was sculpted with such perfection I half expected to find Michelangelo’s signature lurking on one of his chiseled abs.

Broad shoulders. Muscled chest. Bronzed skin and a faint dusting of black hair that tapered down to…

Oh God.

His cock jutted out, huge and hard, and the mere idea of it inside me sent twin frissons of apprehension and anticipation spiraling through my stomach.

There was no way he’d fit. It was impossible.

When I finally dragged my gaze back up to his, his eyes were already focused on me, dark and smoldering with banked heat.

A molten flame dripped down my spine when he spun me around so his erection dug into my lower back.

A full-length mirror hung on the wall opposite us, reflecting my bright eyes and flushed cheeks as Dante palmed my breasts, gently squeezing them and rolling my nipples between his fingers until they stiffened.

Lust, anticipation, and a hint of embarrassment pooled in my stomach.

Watching him explore my body, his touch almost arrogant in its lazy assuredness, was somehow more intimate than actual sex.

“You shouldn’t have let him touch you, mia cara.” Dante’s soft voice sent shivers over my skin a second before he pinched the sensitive peaks, hard.

I instinctively jerked at the jolt of pain and pleasure.

“I didn’t…” My reply melted into a breathy sigh when he dipped a hand between my legs.

“Do you want to know why?” he continued, as if I hadn’t tried to respond.

My teeth dug into my bottom lip. I shook my head, my hips bucking as he pressed his thumb against my clit.

“Because you’re mine.” His teeth scored my neck. “You wear my ring.

You’ve come on my face and hand. You live in my head all the fucking time, even if I don’t want you to…” His palm slid to my hip, where his fingers dug grooves into my skin. “And God, I want to punish you for driving me so damn crazy. Every. Single. Day.”

I didn’t get a chance to fully register his last sentence before he slammed into me and tore a cry from my throat.

I was so wet he slid in without much resistance, but the sensation was so sudden and intense I clenched without thinking.

He hissed out a breath, but he didn’t move until my body acclimated to his size and my whimpers of discomfort faded. Only then did he pull out and push back in.

Slowly at first, then faster and deeper until he set a rhythm that made my knees buckle.

All thoughts vanished from my mind as he hammered into me so deep he hit spots I didn’t know existed.

My eyes fluttered closed, only to fly open again when a hand closed around my neck.

“Open your eyes,” Dante growled. “Look in the mirror when I’m fucking you.”

I did. The sight that greeted me was almost enough to tip me over the edge. My breasts bounced with each thrust, and my eyes were glassy with lust and unshed tears as he wrung every ounce of pleasure from me. An endless stream of moans and whimpers poured from my half-open mouth.

I didn’t look like the good, respectable girl I’d been raised to be.

I looked wanton and needy and ravished beyond comprehension.

My gaze locked with Dante’s in the mirror.

“You like this?” he taunted. “Watching me wreck your pussy while you make a mess all over my cock?”

My lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen for me to respond with anything other than a strangled noise.

The fucking was too intense, and all I wanted was for him to keep going. To push me further and further until I crashed over the cliff looming ahead.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh.

“You”—thrust—”are”—thrust—” my” — thrust—”wife.”

The force of his fucking increased with each word until the last plunge pitched me forward. If not for his hold, I would’ve collapsed on the floor.

“I’m not…your wife yet,” I managed over the thundering of my heart.

Dante’s grip tightened around my throat. “Maybe not,” he said darkly.

“But you are mine. You asked if it was still just business…” He dragged his cock out slowly, letting me feel every inch of him, before slamming it back in. Electric sensations shot through me, turning my body into a live wire.

“Does this feel like business?”

No, it didn’t.

It felt like hope.

It felt like desire.

It felt like ruin and salvation all in one.

Dante’s pace slowed, but the power in each thrust remained vicious.

Still, his next words contained a shadow of vulnerability that took what was left of my breath away.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” The rawness of his voice matched the desire in his eyes—dark and fathomless and so visceral I felt it in my bones.

It was that look and those words, spoken in that voice, that finally tipped me over the edge.

I came with a sharp cry, my body shuddering around his. He followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me until we were both spent and gasping for air.

We held on to each other, our breaths gradually evening in unison as we came down from our highs.

“Look at us, mia cara.” Dante’s soft command brushed against my skin.

I did.

Our reflections stared back at us, dazed and slick with sweat. His arms wrapped around me from behind, and his cheek pressed against mine as our gazes connected in the mirror.

Something that was both ache and fullness tugged at my heart.

What we’d had wasn’t soft, emotional sex, at least not on the surface.

But beneath the rough hands and filthy words, a storm of emotions had blown through and upended our entire relationship.

Six months of pent-up frustration, lust, anger, and everything in between, all unleashed in one night.

I wouldn’t know the aftermath until morning.

But I knew there was no going back to the way things used to be.