by T. K. Leigh
“Fuck,” he hissed. “I love it when you clench around me like that.” He removed his finger and increased his rhythm, releasing inside me with a strangled groan.
Our bodies quivering, our breathing ragged, we remained motionless. When several long moments had passed and both of our racing hearts had begun to slow, he pulled out, then helped me straighten.
With an unfocused smile, I turned to face him, sated. I stood on my toes, raking my fingers through his mussed-up hair. His tongue traced my lower lip, begging for permission to enter. Our mouths locked, the taste of me on him an aphrodisiac.
“That was… Wow,” I exhaled.
“Yeah, it was.” He released his hold on me, adjusting himself and zipping up his pants.
“I suppose we should probably rejoin the party, though, huh?”
“At least for a little bit longer,” he agreed.
“Fine,” I huffed playfully, then reached for a few paper towels to clean up.
“Don’t.” Dante snatched my wrist, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “I want my cum dripping down your leg, reminding you that, until you get on that plane in one week, I’m the only one allowed to do this to you.”
My heart rate skyrocketed. It sounded so perverse, so demeaning, but I found myself even more turned on by the notion. I just hoped we would leave the gala sooner rather than later. I’d just been fucked harder than I ever had in my life, yet I still craved more.
Dante had awoken the beast inside me.
Chapter Ten
Rough skin trailed along my shoulder blades as I lay on my stomach, basking in Dante’s luxurious sheets. I didn’t think I’d ever spent so much time naked in my life, even as a newborn. After leaving the museum, we’d barely left the bedroom for the past twenty-four hours. Dante even postponed a few meetings he had scheduled so he could spend the entire day with me. He had a voracious appetite, one I was only too happy to match. I’d lost count of the number of orgasms he’d given me. It was almost like it was his mission to make it so I could barely walk onto that plane when the time came. Sadly, that time was inching closer and closer.
“Morning,” I murmured as his stubble grazed my skin.
“Buongiorno, mia cara, Eleanor.”
“Mmm.” I closed my eyes. “I love when you speak Italian to me.”
“Sei bella. Molto bella.”
He traced circles along my spine, and I closed my eyes, tuning out everything except Dante’s touch. With each minute that passed, with each brush of his skin against mine, with each whisper of his desire in my ear, I fell deeper and deeper into something I couldn’t describe.
Clutching my hips, he flipped me onto my back, pushing a few tendrils of hair behind my ear. His touch was delicate as his fingers traced my face. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are first thing in the morning?”
“No.” I swallowed hard at the sincerity in his eyes. The fiery and carnal look I’d grown accustomed to had been replaced by something else.
“You are breathtaking, Eleanor,” he murmured, his tongue trailing over my bottom lip. He pressed his mouth to mine, the exchange soft and sweet. A brush of his hand. A sweet word. A kiss. That was all I needed to crumble before this man I swore I wouldn’t fall for.
But with each brush of his hand, each sweet word, each kiss, I was breaking that promise to myself.
I wanted to curse life for being so unfair. I’d always wondered how it would feel to be treasured and loved. Life decided to play a cruel trick on me and finally show me that in a man who could never be mine. There was no future with Dante. His life was here, in Rome. Mine was in California…or at least the pieces that remained of it were there. I should have walked away from Dante after our first night. I should leave now, but I couldn’t. I was drawn to him like a plant to sunlight. I needed him for my own survival. Without him, I feared my soul would wither and die.
I raked my hands down his sculpted back, pulling him closer. The way his muscles rippled and bulged under my hands flamed my need for him.
“Do you want me?” he whispered against my neck.
“Yes, Dante.”
Leaning back, he rubbed his erection against me, then slowly entered, filling me. He flexed toward me, a look of peace washing over him as he pushed deep before pulling back. He repeated the same slow motion over and over, each gentle thrust more fulfilling, more thrilling, more enthralling than the previous.
I hooked my legs around his waist, reaching up and forcing his lips against mine. A spark ignited in my core as he moved inside me. This was different from every other time. It had always been fast, rough, hard. It was as if Dante could read my mind, knew I’d developed feelings for him, despite trying to remain detached. I’d spent the past ten years with Brock, yet I never cared for him this way. How could I possibly have such strong feelings for someone I’d only known for a few short days? It didn’t seem possible.
“Harder,” I begged.
Dante met my eyes.
“Please,” I added.
He lowered his mouth to my chest, his teeth grazing my nipple. “Not yet, Eleanor. You feel so good like this.” A shiver rolled over him when I ran my fingers through his hair. He grabbed my hand, placing a kiss on my palm. “God, I love being inside you. Filling you. Knowing I can give you so much pleasure.”
I tightened my legs around his waist, moving with the gentle rhythm he set. He grasped a wrist in each of his hands and pressed them against the mattress by my head. I yearned to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, to dig my nails into his back.
“I need to feel you,” I pleaded, my hands aching with need.
“You do feel me,” he grunted out, tightening his hold on my wrists. My skin burned, a subtle pain shooting through me.
“More,” I breathed, closing my eyes.
He clamped his teeth on my neck, his rhythm still slow and deliberate as he marked me.
“Harder,” I begged, gritting my teeth, bucking my hips.
A storm brewing in his eyes, he finally relented and drove into me harder, rougher, his hands gripping my wrists even tighter. This was what I wanted, what I needed. Only Dante could give it to me. My vision became hazy and I fell over the edge, crying out Dante’s name as waves of ecstasy washed over me.
“Oh, Eleanor.” Crushing his lips to mine, he forced his tongue into my mouth as he found his own release. He let go of my wrists, and I clutched his face in my hands, giving him everything I could — my heart, my soul…my love?
Our frenzied kiss grew soft, tender, delicate. I wrapped my arms around his neck, wishing we could always stay like this. That simply wasn’t in the cards. If there were such a thing as fate, she was a cruel bitch.
Too soon, he pulled back, placing a light kiss on my nose, smiling down at me with such adoration. His eyes wandered to the clock on the nightstand and he groaned.
“I have to get ready. I have a few appointments this morning. I can’t cancel them again. Will you be okay for a few hours? I’ll make it as quick as possible, then I promise we’ll go do something. I can take you to see the Sistine Chapel, if you’d like.”
“That would be nice.” As much as I’d love another day like yesterday where we just stayed in bed, I needed to start distancing myself from Dante. I feared my heart wouldn’t survive my impending departure otherwise.
“Great.” He placed another soft kiss on my nose, then stood, retreating into the bathroom. I closed my eyes, basking in my post-sex state of complete satisfaction.
After what seemed like only an instant, Dante stirred me awake. Momentarily disoriented, I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me, his hair damp from a shower, dressed in a dark suit with a charcoal shirt. It was dark, dark, and more dark, but I loved how it looked on him.
“I’ll be back soon.” He leaned down and feathered his lips against mine. “I’ll be thinking of you the entire time.”
“And the next time you’ll be fucking me?” I murmured groggily, raising my brows.
“No, Eleanor. Just thinking about you. Although fucking you is the deliciously sweet icing on the cake. I didn’t ask you to stay with me so I could sleep with you whenever I wanted. I asked you to stay because I like you as a person, probably more than I should, and I hate the idea you’ll be leaving soon. I hate that I have to leave you even for a minute because every minute I’m away from you is a minute I won’t get back.” He lowered his lips to mine. “Don’t think for a second this is just about sex. It’s not. Not anymore. At least for me. And I hope it’s not for you, either.”
I swallowed hard. “It’s not.”
“Good. I’ll be back shortly. Have a wonderful morning, Eleanor.” He kissed me one last time, then retreated from the bedroom.
Closing my eyes, I drew in a long breath and stretched in the bed. I was tired, but my mind wouldn’t let me go back to sleep, so I got up. After a refreshing shower and dressing in a pair of shorts and a flowing light blue tank top, I decided it would be the perfect morning to just sit on the veranda and enjoy the invigorating sounds of Rome. I checked my reflection in the mirror, a wide grin crossing my face when I noticed a large bruise on my neck. Upon further inspection, I also observed red and purple marks on my wrists that were prominent against my fair skin. At least I had some damn good concealer. I’d have to make sure to put some on before going to the Vatican later. I could have been wrong, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to walk through Vatican City with teeth marks on my neck.
Pulling my brown waves into a messy ponytail, I retreated from the room with a bounce in my step. I made a coffee and grabbed a danish, then headed toward the bookshelf, choosing a book from Dante’s enormous collection. I was surprised to see so many English titles.
I settled into a lounge chair on the veranda and got lost in some psychological thriller, enjoying my coffee and the warm sun on my skin, forgetting about everything else in my life.
Not much time had passed before I heard the subtle sound of the apartment door opening, then closing. I glanced at my watch to see Dante had only been gone an hour. Excitement filled me as I swung my legs over the side of the lounge chair, practically running back into the apartment.
“That was a short meeting,” I said, a grin on my face as I entered the living area, my eyes taking a minute to adjust from the sunlight. “Did you not get enough of me this morning and needed to rush home for more?”
A sudden chill washed over me when my vision became clear, my gaze falling on a tall, lanky figure standing in Dante’s living room as if he owned the place. I came to an abrupt stop.
“Hello, Ellie,” he sneered. “Enjoying our honeymoon?”
Swallowing hard, my mind raced as I stood face-to-face with my ex-fiancé. I stepped back, observing with my own eyes why Mila had voiced her concern to me all those days ago. Brock looked off — crazed, sinister…evil.
He stalked toward me, his eyes wild. My heart pounded in my chest as I continued my slow retreat, scanning Dante’s apartment for anything I could possibly use as a weapon. As Brock approached a side table by the couch, he picked up a copy of Dante’s first book, smiling an eerie smile at me.
Holding it beside his face, the warmth in Dante’s eyes a cruel juxtaposition to the poison in Brock’s, he said, “I see you’ve met my brother.”
Thank you for reading INFERNO: PART ONE! I hope you've enjoyed Dante and Eleanor. Their story continues in INFERNO: PART TWO.
They say life is a series of roads, each fork a decision that can lead you to a different destination.
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Inferno: Part Two
Now available on all e-retailers.
Grab your copy here.
* * *
A stolen glance across a darkened restaurant.
A kiss under the Italian moon.
A proposition I never would have made in my former life.
Our story began just like all fairy tales do...
* * *
Once upon a time.
* * *
Once upon a time, a mysterious, passionate man opened my eyes to things I'd been blind to. My heart to feelings I never thought imaginable. My mind to endless possibilities.
* * *
Once upon a time, I experienced something I didn't think existed.
* * *
Once upon a time, I learned how to fly.
* * *
Little did I know it was with broken wings.
* * *
How can we have a future when he's still tormented by his past?
* * *
How can I give him my heart when experience tells me to keep it guarded?
* * *
How can I still want to be with a man who would lie to me so recklessly?
* * *
They say life is a series of roads, each fork a decision that can lead you to a different destination.
* * *
Now I find myself faced with a decision of my own.
* * *
Do I put my trust in Dante?
Or do I turn back into the same sheltered Ellie I was when I boarded that plane?
* * *
Only fate knows the answer...
Playlist
First Heartbreak - Tori Kelly
Somebody Loved - The Weepies
Move Together - James Bay
Wicked Games - The Weekend
Caught up in You - Kate Voegele (feat. Inland Sky)
Terrible Love - Birdy
When I Get My Hands On You - The New Basement Tapes
My Skin - Natalie Merchant
Flesh - Simon Curtis
Addicted - Saving Abel
Under My Skin - Peter Bradley Adams
Say You Won’t Let Go - James Arthur
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* * *
My rules for being a Manhattan billionaire's fake girlfriend... No kissing. No fooling around. No falling in love. What can possibly go wrong?
* * *
Note to self: When your boyfriend dumps you on your thirtieth birthday, it's probably not the smartest idea to drink so much that you wake up in the same bed as the mysterious hottie wearing the gorgeous suit who you noticed sitting across the bar.
* * *
The only silver lining in my obvious lack of judgment is the promise of never seeing Mr. Suit again, not in a city the size of New York.
* * *
Or so I thought, until a story I'm working on about the country's most sought-after and elusive escort lands me in the same café as Mr. Suit. So I do what any self-respecting woman of my age would do in my shoes... Try to ignore him.
* * *
But he won't let me.
* * *
Instead he makes a proposition that leaves me questioning whether I need to have my ears checked. Be his fake girlfriend for a summer of wealth and excess in the Hamptons. In return, he'll help me win back my boyfriend's
heart.
* * *
Juvenile? You bet.
* * *
Effective? Could be.
* * *
Bad idea? Most likely.
* * *
But what do I have to lose?
* * *
Apparently, a lot more than I originally bargained for.
* * *
Let the games begin...
Acknowledgments
When I was approached in late 2016 to participate in this fun project that would eventually come to be titled The Vault, I looked at it as a challenge. Most may not see writing a 20,000 - 35,000 word novella as a challenge, but it is. Most of my books hover in the 100K word area. Developing characters and making the reader become emotionally attached to them is no easy task. So an idea popped in my head to write a story about a woman who decided to run out on her wedding and head to Rome, where she runs into a handsome, sexy Italian chef. I thought it would be a short, sinful, sexy story of my heroine’s sexual awakening. Little did I know that my hero would have a lot to say, as well, which is why I made the decision to make their story a little more involved than I originally planned. I’ve vowed from the very beginning of this writing journey that I would never publish anything less than my best, and to give this intricate story the attention it needs and deserves, I couldn’t rush it, which is why a 35K word novella has now morphed into a 200K word series.