Dante shook his head. “Can’t shelter her forever. You ever see a therapist to help you get over the phobia?”
I shook my head and the motion hurt. “I don’t believe in therapy. I’ve read the textbooks, I know the problem. Did you know fifteen percent of the population faints at the sight of blood? It’s called a vasovagal response.”
Half of his mouth quirked up. “I didn’t know that, not until now.” He brushed his lips across my forehead. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. I’m taking you out on a date tonight.”
I perked up. “Really?”
He pressed his lips against mine, pulled away. “Really. I’m going to run home and get changed, I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up.” He pressed the tip of his nose against mine, rubbed it back and forth.
“Ella, please tell me we don’t look that pathetic,” Micah said in mock-disgust.
I grinned and pressed my face against Dante’s chest. Hand in hand, we walked into the hall, down a flight of stairs and then hooked a left. He dropped me off at my bedroom and laid a smoldering, toe-curling kiss on me before he sauntered away.
After an extra-hot shower, I blow-dried and curled my hair. Something I hadn’t bothered to do in several weeks. I did my makeup, smokey and dark to contrast with my green eyes, and stood inside my closet for fifteen minutes trying to decide what to wear. I had no idea where Dante was taking me.
“Just pick one,” Ella said from the other room where she’d been lounging on my bed, flipping through Micah’s Guns and Ammo magazine when I walked by her several minutes ago.
I sighed. “I can’t.”
Ella walked in, reached around me and pulled a black dress from its hanger. She shoved it at me, turned and then left.
I looked down at the dress I’d worn to a black and white sorority party two years ago. It was tight, sexy and showed a lot of skin with its low-pooling cowl neckline and multiple cross-fabric back. Could work.
Ella’s voice drifted to me through the open door. “Put. It. On. Dante’s just pulled up.”
I clutched my towel tighter and stuck my head out of the closet. “How do you know that?” I asked.
She shrugged, flipped a page. “Heard the rumble of his truck. Seriously, it’s just a dress, put it on.”
“It’s not just a dress,” I whined. “This my first real date, it’s gotta be perfect.”
“Real? You’ve been fake-dating for the last four years? And you’ve already broken the man’s nose—the date can only go uphill from there.”
She had a point. I let go of my towel and let it drop to the ground. I shimmied the dress over my head, adjusted the slinky fabric over my breasts so they were concealed and smoothed down the straight hem that sat high on my thighs. I turned my head and caught my reflection in the mirror behind me.
The back portion of the dress that hugged my hips and ass was cinched so it pulled up at the center seam. The straps of the dress holding the front in place split into four different strands at my collarbone and crossed with the other side in the middle of my spine to leave my back almost completely exposed.
Deciding this was the one, I grabbed a pair of heels and moved into my bedroom.
“Wow,” Ella said. She threw the magazine to the bed and sat up.
“You think it’s okay?” I asked.
“Okay? It’s—it’s…how are your boobs not popping out of that thing?”
I looked down at the exposed swells of my breasts. “I’m twenty—gravity is still on my side.”
“Dante is gonna flip his switch when he sees you in that.”
“Good.” I leaned against the wall and slipped on one heel, then the other. “Maybe we’ll actually have sex tonight.”
Ella lifted an eyebrow. “You haven’t done it yet? But you said…”
“I know what I said, big mouth. Thanks for telling Micah, by the way. We’ve done just about everything except actual penetration.”
My sister wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call it penetration, sounds so clinical.”
“Dante is anything but clinical. The things that man can do with his tongue, his fingers…”
Ella got this dazed, far-off look in her eyes as if she were remembering something. A sappy smile spread her lips and just like that, my big sister went all soft and feminine. “Micah does this twisting, flicking thing—”
“Hannah.” Dante’s voice carried down the hall and Ella closed her mouth. “You ready, babe?”
He walked into my room, took one look at me, and his mouth dropped open.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Ella rose off the bed, pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, and exited. Her voice carried down the hall. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Dante, looking sinful in a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms, swallowed.
“Is that dress legal?” he asked in a strangled voice.
I stopped in front of him and rested my hand on his chest, over his heart. “You like it?”
He trailed a finger down the side of my throat, lower to caress the line of my cleavage and below. He cupped my hip, fingers digging into my skin as he grabbed my hand and brought it to his rock-hard cock.
“Like, darlin’, is an understatement.”
I stroked his shaft through his dark slacks, gave him a little squeeze before I turned to my dresser. I opened a drawer and searched through the scraps of lace.
“Now what are you doing?” he asked.
“I need panties.”
“You’re completely naked under that scrap of material?” He came up behind me and the heat of his body lined my back. He pressed his erection against my ass. “Are you trying to kill me, or is it just accidental?”
I looked up into the mirror and caught his gaze as he reached around to my front and palmed my thigh. His golden eyes were molten, the lids heavy. Even though he’d shaved, I could still see the slight discoloration of stubble where it grew thickest around his mouth and along his jaw. He scraped his hand up my leg, a slow tantalizing caress that stole my breath.
The soft material of my dress pushed up higher and higher. Goose bumps tightened my flesh and I had to close my eyes to block out the addictive hunger so plainly written on his face. He curved his hand in, knuckles brushing my slick curls. I sucked in a breath and parted my legs as he cupped my pussy. I was wet and dripping with arousal.
“So wet.” He nipped my ear.
My lids fluttered open.
“That’s it baby, look at me while I finger fuck you. Know who’s inside you, who’s going to make you scream.” He rubbed me slowly, the tips of his fingers teasing the slit of my sex when he pressed the heel of his palm against my clit.
I fought my moan. “The door’s still open.”
He rubbed harder, adjusted his stroke and pressed two fingers deep. In, out. “Then you better be quiet.” His voice was a sexy whispering rasp in my ear. His pace sped in a challenge he was sure to win.
“Oh god,” I panted.
“Do my fingers feel good in your pussy?”
I should have never admitted I liked it when he talked dirty to me.
“Yes.” I lifted my hand and threaded it behind his neck to hold him close.
“Do you want to come?”
I dug my fingers into his flesh and bit my lip to keep from crying out. “Yes.”
He grabbed the hand I had behind his neck and placed it palm down on the dresser. “Put both hands here and don’t move them. If you do, I’ll stop touching you.”
My pussy throbbed and I did as I was told. Did he know how his authority spurred an unspoken fantasy that I wanted to be dominated?
Dante pressed his lips against the side of my throat and sucked the flesh into his mouth. In the reflection of the mirror, I watched us. He trailed a finger along the pooling neckline, shoving the material to the side until the dusky peak of my nipple came into view. He clamped the areola between his fingers and drew a needy sound from my throat.
“You like that, don’t you. A little bit of pain.” Dante scraped his teeth along my throat and made me purr.
He twisted my nipple at the same time he tapped my clit. Once, twice. He pushed his fingers inside. He did it again and again, the sharp bites of pain traveling from my breasts and adding to the sensation of his fingers fucking me.
I cried out, my orgasm building deep and quick. My body spasmed and I bent my fingers at the knuckles to claw at the smooth wood beneath my palm.
He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and nipped my neck in warning. A gush of moisture left me. “I told you not to move. Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head and the soft strands of my hair danced over my shoulders. I flattened my palms like I’d been told and arched my back so I could rub my ass against the hard ridge of his cock.
Through the reflection in the mirror, I experienced how I affected him. His lids dipped and he growled low in his throat. The muscles in his arms flexed with the steady movement of his hand bringing me closer and closer to climax.
“That was naughty.” He abandoned my breast and slid his hand up my chest. He cupped my throat, used a finger to tilt my head so his mouth pressed comfortably against my ear. “For that, you don’t get to come until I tell you to.”
As if he was handling an instrument, he played my body. He plucked my nipples, stroked my clit and thrust long, thick fingers in and out of my sex. Pressure built and built. Bound in his demands, I gave way to the sensations. Stars danced in front of my eyes but I didn’t dare move my hands or give in to orgasm for fear he’d pulled away.
The pressure tightened until I thought I was going to break apart from the inside out.
“Please, Dante.” My voice was a husky whisper.
He flicked my G-spot and the ripples I couldn’t contain spread through my body.
“Come,” he demanded.
God yes. Sensation rushed over me and I gave in to the pleasure with a scream of release. My climax hit and hit hard. I stopped breathing. I stopped existing. My nails scraped over wood and the only thing holding me up was Dante’s strong presence behind me.
Once I stopped quivering and convulsing, he removed his hand from between my thighs. I opened my lids, caught his gaze in the mirror as he sucked his glistening fingers into his mouth and moaned. If it were possible, I think I had another orgasm.
“You taste like honey.”
He wrapped a hand around my waist and spun us away from the dresser. Legs tangled, we stumbled to the bed, the stiletto point of my heels clicking on the hard floor. He pressed his mouth to mine for a long, passionate kiss I returned with fervor.
He stroked a hand from my bared shoulder to the small of my back. Angling his head, he cupped my throat and deepened our kiss. His tongue parried with mine, a smooth, wet glide. When the mattress hit the backs of my knees, he ripped our mouths apart and pushed me onto the bed.
I sat at the edge and reached for his zipper as he undid his belt. His cock sprang free and I leaned forward to take him into my mouth. He gripped the back of my head and thrust. I stroked his shaft and laved the metal piercing. In and out, I hollowed my cheeks and took him into the back of my throat.
“That’s it, baby, just like that. Been thinking about your mouth all goddamn day. I’m gonna come soon.”
He pushed forward, thrusting deeper into my mouth as I sucked and licked him. It didn’t take long before he gripped the back of my neck and unloaded in my mouth. I swallowed, moaning at the rich taste of him.
Dante pulled out and tucked his glistening cock into his slacks. He smiled down at me, a boyish grin that made my heart swell.
“Desert is better before dinner anyway. Come on beautiful, put on some panties so I’m not tempted to fuck you on the way to the Vault, and let’s go.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re taking me to your work for our first date?”
His smile spread and he bent to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about where I’m taking you. I got it covered.”
Chapter Eight
Dante and I exchanged stupid grins as the truck bounced over the private driveway, leading away from the house and to the interstate. I sat in the middle seat, my head on his shoulder, our clasped hands resting on his thigh. I drew in a deep breath and took in as much of his scent as I could. I was frighteningly delirious with happiness.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.
“Cerulean.”
He chuckled as if I’d said something funny and pressed a quick kiss to my temple without taking his gaze from the road. “So in other words, blue.”
I snuggled in closer and rubbed my cheek against the soft, smooth material of his shirt. “No. Cer-u-le-an,” I drew the word out. “I like the way it sounds.”
“Song.”
I pursed my lips, tried to pick just one. “Where is my Mind by the Pixies.”
“Fight Club, damn good movie. Okay, food.”
I laughed at his rapid-fire questions. “What is this, an interrogation?”
“Standard first-date procedure—getting to know each other better. Need to see if we’re compatible or not.”
“All the pre-sex stuff we’ve done doesn’t count?”
He glanced away from the road and met my eyes. “Pre-sex?”
I shrugged. “Ya know, the foreplay. You going down on me, me going down on you. What we did like ten minutes ago or did you forget already?”
He swiped his lower lip with his tongue and looked at me as if he wanted to devour me all over again. “Babe, can’t forget when I can still taste you, feel you clamping around me, still hear the needy little whimper that vibrated my cock seconds before I came in your mouth. I might not have a photographic memory like you, but those aren’t details I’ll ever let go.”
Heat infused my cheeks and I squirmed in my seat. “What was the question?”
“Food.”
“Fillet mignon wrapped in bacon served on bed of caramelized mushrooms. Oh, and I hate peas.”
“That was specific.”
I hit his shoulder. “You asked!”
He turned, caught my gaze for a second to smile at me. A loud pop sounded and the car jerked to the side of the road. I let out a yelp as the flap, flap, flap of deflated tire slapped the road.
“Shit.” Dante ripped his hand from mine and wrestled the steering wheel to get the truck steady. The second he got control, another pop sounded. The screeching of grinding metal accompanied the flapping. Rims against road.
My heartbeat jacked up a notch and I gripped Dante’s thigh.
An engine revved behind us and I turned in my seat to look out the back window. The glass shattered. I screamed, was already on my way to ducking when Dante’s palm landed on the back of my head and forced me the rest of the way down.
“Stay down, someone’s shooting at us.”
“How long can you drive with the tires flat?”
He gripped the steering wheel, glanced at the dwindling speedometer. “Not long. Fuck.” He slammed his hand against the dash hard enough for plastic to crack.
I struggled to open my purse so I could find my cell. Another pop and the truck wobbled in an awful vibration I felt in the middle of my stomach. My hand closed around my phone as something heavy, maybe another car, crashed into the side of the truck on the driver’s side and sent the car veering off to the right.
My purse crashed to the floor, taking my phone with it.
“In the glove compartment, there’s a gun.” Dante’s voice was drowned out by the growl of us roaming over the rumble strip. We hit gravel. “You know how to use one? It’s a GLOCK .9mm.”
“Ah…” I stammered. Through the trembles shaking my hand, I managed to open the compartment and remove the surprisingly light black gun I found inside. “I’ve never actually fired one before.”
My father’s words echoed in my head and I repeated them aloud for Dante’s sake.
“Hold the grip of the gun with you
r dominant hand. The V between your thumb and index finger should be along the rear of the grip. Wrap your fingers comfortably around the grip and place your index finger alongside, but not on, the trigger.
“Continue to point the gun in a safe direction and grasp the steel slide of the gun with your opposite hand. Pull the slide back to allow a round to move from the magazine to the chamber. Release the slide and allow it to move completely forward. This will seat the round in the barrel and seal the firing chamber.
“Use the sight on the top of the barrel to aim at your target. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Keep your hands steady with a firm grip on the handgun. Put your finger to the trigger when you feel ready to shoot. Fire the gun by pulling the trigger in a slow, steady motion. Remember, a GLOCK’s safety is on the trigger, so by pulling back the trigger you are deactivating the safety of the handgun.”
“I swear to god,” Dante growled and I winced.
“Is that wrong?” My voice wavered. “It’s what my dad told me when I was little.”
“We get out of this, your sister and I are going to have words. Point and fire, aim for head, between the eyes if you can.”
Car doors opened, slammed shut. Each noise made me flinch. Whoever had run us off the road was coming. Boots pounded pavement.
What Dante said sank in. He wanted me to shoot someone. “What! No. I can’t shoot anyone.”
“Darlin’.” He gripped the back of my neck, squeezed. “You’ll do what you have to do in order to survive. Stay low, outta sight as much as possible, but if anyone comes near you, you shoot. Best I can tell, we’re outnumbered four to two.”
His hold vanished and he was out of the truck. His roar of rage lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. Flesh hit flesh. Someone grunted, cursed. If I hadn’t been holding the gun, I might have stuck my fingers in my ears so I didn’t have to conjure images with each pound and scuffle.
My heart pounded and where I clutched the gun, my hands sweated. I looked up, out my window and screamed. Bright-blue eyes penetrated my soul. A man, classically handsome with short spiky black hair and a rugged jaw, stared at me. Long, sharp fangs extended and pressed against his thin lower lip. I hit the locks as he reached for the door handle.
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