Page 8 of Ruthless Sinner
I wrap my hand around his throbbing member, pulling him closer. My body tingles with anticipation as I tease his tip with my slick desire. “I just want you inside me.”
He presses his forehead against mine, forcing his way past my clenched muscles and deep into my core. Every inch of him stretches me to my limits, but I crave the fullness. He stays still, savoring the sensation of being inside me.
“I could do this all night,” he whispers. “If you were keeping my dick warm from dusk til dawn, I’d never have another sleepless night.”
Despite my determination to stay awake, a comforting warmth spreads through my body, tempting me to surrender to sleep. A heavy fatigue weighs down my eyelids, making it difficult to keep them open against the soothing pull of slumber. My body feels like it’s begging for rest after a long day. I try to resist, but the weariness is overwhelming, and I can feel myself slipping into peaceful oblivion.
“That’s right, gorgeous. Close your eyes.” Dante lulls me to sleep with comforting words of affirmation. I can’t even stifle my yawn because my muscles no longer work. “I was afraid you hadn’t drunk enough of the water for the sleeping pills to take effect.”
Even his admission isn’t enough to keep me awake. I try to fight the oncoming tidal wave of sleep but find that I can’t open my mouth to argue.
“I’m going to take care of you now. You’ll never have to worry about Tommaso Martinelli ever again.”
It’s the last thing I hear before the world goes dark, and I fall into a fitful slumber, complete with Dante’s member still buried inside me.
Chapter 8
Adalina
As I slowly open my eyes, a gnawing sensation of anxiety instantly grips me, settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. My surroundings are unfamiliar and disorienting—this is definitely not my bed.
I do not open my eyes, afraid that if I do, I’ll wake up in hell. But I can hear birds chirping, ringing in the dawn.
Last night, I made a mistake. I went home with a stranger when I shouldn’t have. I should have made him fuck me in the bathroom or the alley behind the bar. Anything that would have left me capable of going home at the end of the night. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into going home with him.
I must have fallen asleep after sex. I thought I told Dante not to let me do that. Or maybe I just thought about telling him that. God, I fucked up.
I cautiously peek through one eye, barely opening it enough to see the room in a blurred haze through my lashes. As I cautiously scan the space around me, I find myself alone in the bed, and a sense of relief washes over me. I exhale a quiet sigh before fully opening my eyes and taking in the details of the room.
This is not the room I fell asleep in. I frown at the light furniture and comfortable throw blankets strewn over a couch in front of a fireplace. That wasn’t here last night. I remember a cozy darkness, a place where no shadows could exist because there was no light. Where am I?
I toss back the blankets, unsurprised to find myself naked. Maybe Dante doesn’t let women sleep in his bed. Fine by me. I don’t like sleeping next to anyone anyway.
There are doors on either side of the bed. One is open and leads to a bathroom. As I enter, my eyes are immediately drawn to the lavish gold detailing that adorns every fixture and surface in the room. The richness of the white color scheme only adds to the feeling of luxury and extravagance. Whoever designed this house spared no expense.
The hand soap smells like mangoes, and the cloth to dry my hands is the softest I’ve ever felt. I envy Dante for living here; he probably doesn’t even appreciate all the beautiful details.
As I make my way to the door on the other side of the bed, I feel unease when I find a walk-in closet overflowing with a colorful array of women’s clothing. Dresses of all lengths and styles hang along one side, while shelves are stacked with folded jeans, sweaters, and blouses. The scent of perfume lingers in the air, adding to the overwhelming feeling that I have stumbled into someone else’s private space.
“Shit,” I mumble. He’s married. Of course, he’s married. His wife probably picked out the beautiful floral white bedding and the exquisite artwork hanging on the walls. They probably sleep separately because she knows her husband is a dog.
“I need to get out of here.” I don’t want to wear another woman’s clothes, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I need to get home, and I can’t leave here naked.
The more I look through the closet, the more I hate Dante. His wife and I are the same size. She has a beautiful assortment of dresses, jackets, and pantsuits. She’s stylish, and I simultaneously envy and feel bad for her.
I try to pick something she might miss the least, but who am I kidding? I don’t know this woman from Eve. For all I know, the dress I grab from the back of the closet could be her favorite piece of casual wear.
“Fuck you, Dante. Cheating bastard,” I mumble under my breath as I pull on the dress and a pair of sandals. I make a mental note to ship these items back until I realize I have no idea where I am. How far will I have to walk to get back to town?
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but this is the dumbest. Dante was right when he whispered that in my ear last night. It’s bad enough that I don’t know where I am. By the time I finally get home, my father is going to be murderous.
I briefly consider running away, but who am I kidding? Where would I go? I have nothing to my name. I have no skills. I could probably figure it out, but what if I don’t? What if I get to New York or California and realize that I have to sell my body in order to get by? Is it worth it to escape my father’s abuse? Would it be easier on the streets than with his roof over my head? That’s the million-dollar question.
“Wrestle with it later,” I counsel myself. Maybe while I’m nursing the injuries my father’s guards will no doubt inflict upon me when I dare to finally show up.
I head for the door and grab the knob. But funnily enough, it doesn’t twist. I try again, going the other way this time, but it doesn’t turn that way, either. “What the fuck!”
I take a step back and remind myself to breathe. Maybe there’s a trick to it. Perhaps you have to jiggle the handle. I don’t know.