Page 40 of Ivory Obsession
The feeling was too much—the pleasure too intense—as a wave of desire roared through me. With a final thrust from Dante, I surrendered to the building crescendo inside me. The world ceased to exist beyond the pulsating pleasure that consumed me. Dante’s name ripped from my throat as I came hard around him.
“Fuck, Jade!” Dante growled, his movements becoming erratic as he succumbed to his own climax. His body shuddered against mine as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. His fingers dug into my hips, anchoring himself to me as he succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he rasped, his breath hot against the crook of my neck as he slowly pulled out of me. We stood there for a moment, catching our breaths, the steaming water washing away the remnants of our passion.
As Dante wrapped his arms around me and held me close against his chest, I felt something akin to peace settle over me. It was unfamiliar territory—raw and vulnerable—but not entirely unwelcome. I let myself relax into his embrace, my head resting on his broad shoulder.
“But you are hungry, right? Let’s go get that breakfast. I can’t just leave off eating your pussy, no matter how much I want to.”
“Dante,” I admonished lightly, shaking my head at his audacity. But beneath the reprimand, there was no hiding the soft smile that curved at the corner of my mouth. Dante’s forthrightness was as refreshing as it was intimidating.
“Come on, Doc,” he teased, a twinkle in his eyes as he released me from his embrace and turned off the water. “Let’s get dressed.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Some time later, we emerged from the shower, wrapped in towels and silent in the aftermath of our shared surrender. Dante suggested coffee, and I agreed, eager to hold onto the normalcy of the gesture.
The café was nice and not too far from my house. As we walked into the café, the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the subtle hint of baking pastries hit me, instantly making me feel warm and comfortable. Dante held the door open for me, his hand lightly touching the small of my back as he ushered me inside.
I scanned the cozy space, taking in the rustic wooden tables and the chalkboard menu behind the counter that offered a variety of breakfast options. Dante guided me towards a corner booth that offered some privacy from the rest of the patrons. I slipped onto the plush seat, looking across at Dante who was now shedding off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.
We settled into a booth, the warmth of the coffee mug seeping into my hands as I took a sip. It was peaceful, comfortable—until I noticed Dante’s gaze shift to a man entering the café.
The air around us seemed to thicken, charged with an invisible current that set my nerves on edge. Their exchange was brief, their words too low for me to catch, but the tension between them was unmistakable. Dante’s posture was relaxed, but there was a hardness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
“Friend of yours?” I ventured when the man left, trying to keep my tone light despite the unease coiling in my gut.
“Something like that,” Dante replied, his attention returning to me. He offered a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Jade. Old business.”
I wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his reassurance, but the encounter had peeled back another layer of the life Dante led—a life that was now inching its way into mine, whether I was ready for it or not.
“Old business that comes with threats?” I pressed, unable to ignore the flicker of danger that had passed between them. “Dante, what aren’t you telling me?”
He reached across the table, his hand covering mine in a gesture meant to soothe. “Jade, look at me,” he said firmly, and I met his intense gaze. “Whatever happens, I’ve got it under control. You have my word.”
His assurance should have eased my mind, but instead, it was like a patch over a dam about to burst. I could sense the floodwaters rising behind his calm facade. And though I wanted to trust him, to lean into the safety he offered, doubt gnawed at me.
“Okay,” I whispered, tucking away my questions for now.
The remainder of our coffee was spent in an uneasy silence. Dante, a brooding statue beside me, seemed lost in thought, his gaze occasionally flicking to the café‘s entrance. I felt it then—the protective warmth radiating from him—as he shifted in his seat, angling his body ever so slightly in front of mine, forming a subtle barrier between me and any potential threats that might walk through the door.
It was…weird to think about threats. I didn’t want to, but he was clearly on edge.
“Everything okay?” I asked quietly, tracing the rim of my now cold coffee cup.
“Always,” he replied, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his words.
I wanted to push, to pry open the vault of secrets I knew he carried with him, but fear held me back. Fear of what lay hidden there, fear of how it might change us—change me.
We left the café, stepping out into the crisp air that did nothing to clear the fog in my head. Dante’s world, a world I had only glimpsed the edges of, was creeping slowly into mine, bringing shadows I hadn’t anticipated when I fell into his bed—or his arms.
As we walked, his presence was as commanding as ever, yet I couldn’t ignore the growing doubts swirling within me. With each step, I felt the tug-of-war between the affection I had for Dante and the fear of the unknown elements he was involved with. How could I reconcile the man whose touch set my skin ablaze with the man who dealt in whispered threats and concealed weapons?
“Jade,” he said, breaking through my thoughts as we stopped at the curb waiting for the light to change. “You’re quiet. Talk to me.”
I looked up at him, at the concern etched in the lines around his eyes, and wondered how deep I was willing to dive into the tumultuous waters of Dante Moretti. How much of myself was I prepared to risk on a man bound by blood to a life that was worlds away from my own safe, structured reality?
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just thinking about work.” But even as the words left my lips, I knew that sooner or later, I would have to face the truth—and Dante would have to face me.