Chapter 6: Morning After the Fall
1376 Words
Sunlight filtered through the sheer black curtains, painting golden stripes across the massive bed and the two bodies tangled in it.
Elena woke first.
She was draped over Dante’s chest like she belonged there, one leg thrown across his thigh, her cheek pressed to the steady thrum of his heart. His arm was locked around her waist even in sleep—possessive, heavy, warm. The scent of him surrounded her: s*x, cologne, and something darker that made her stomach flutter.
Last night replayed in vivid flashes.
His hands gripping her hips. The brutal stretch as he filled her completely. The way he’d growled her name like a prayer and a curse while he drove into her again and again. The raw sound he made when he came deep inside her, marking her in the most primal way.
She should feel ashamed. Used. Trapped.
Instead, she felt… alive.
Her body ached in the best places—between her thighs, her breasts, the faint bruises on her hips where his fingers had dug in. She shifted slightly and felt the sticky evidence of last night still between her legs.
A low, sleepy rumble vibrated under her ear.
“Stop thinking so loud, little bird.”
Dante’s voice was gravel-rough from sleep. His hand slid down her bare back, cupping her ass and squeezing once, possessively.
Elena lifted her head. His eyes were half-lidded, dark hair tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked dangerously beautiful—like a fallen angel who’d decided to keep her as his personal sin.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she lied.
He smirked. “Liar.” His fingers traced the curve of her ass, dipping lower until they brushed her still-sensitive folds. She gasped. “You’re sore.”
It wasn’t a question.
She nodded, cheeks heating.
“Good.” He rolled them suddenly, pinning her beneath him with effortless strength. His body covered hers completely—hard muscle, warm skin, the heavy weight of his morning erection pressing hot and insistent against her stomach. “Means you’ll feel me all day. Every time you move, you’ll remember who f****d you senseless last night.”
His mouth descended on hers before she could reply—slow, deep, claiming. Not the frantic hunger of last night, but something more dangerous. Lazy exploration. Tongue stroking hers like he had all the time in the world to learn every inch of her mouth.
When he pulled back, she was already breathing harder.
He kissed down her throat. Nipped at the fading mark he’d left the night before. Then lower.
Elena’s hands fisted the sheets as his mouth closed over one n****e. He sucked gently at first, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch and whimper.
“Dante…”
“Mmm?” He switched to the other breast, lavishing the same attention while his hand slipped between her thighs. Two fingers parted her folds, finding her already slick again. “So wet for me already. Even sore, your body knows who it belongs to.”
He circled her c**t with maddening slowness. Not enough pressure. Just enough to tease.
She rocked her hips, chasing more.
He chuckled against her skin. “Greedy this morning.”
“Please…” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
His head lifted. Dark eyes burned into hers.
“Say it again.”
Heat flooded her face. “Please… touch me properly.”
“Properly?” He slid one thick finger inside her—slow, deep—then added a second. Curled them. “Like this?”
A broken moan tore from her throat.
He pumped lazily while his thumb worked her c**t in tight circles. His mouth returned to her breasts, sucking and biting until she was writhing beneath him.
She was close already. Embarrassingly close.
He felt it. Pulled his fingers out.
She whined in protest.
“Not yet.” He moved down her body, kissing every inch—ribs, stomach, the sensitive skin just above her mound. Then he settled between her spread thighs, broad shoulders forcing her legs wider.
He looked up at her, eyes wicked. “I want to taste how we taste together.”
Before she could process that, his mouth was on her.
Elena cried out, back bowing off the bed.
He licked her slowly—long, flat strokes from entrance to c**t, savoring the mix of their releases. Then he sucked her c**t into his mouth, humming with pleasure.
Two fingers plunged back inside her, thrusting in time with his tongue.
She grabbed his hair, hips bucking against his face.
He growled and doubled down—faster, messier, more relentless. The obscene wet sounds filled the room along with her desperate moans.
“Come on my tongue again,” he ordered between licks. “Let me drink every drop.”
She shattered with a scream, thighs clamping around his head, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through her in violent waves.
He didn’t stop until she was shaking, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his head.
Only then did he crawl back up her body, lips shiny, eyes feral with satisfaction.
He kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself and him on his tongue.
When he pulled back, his c**k was throbbing against her entrance—thick, leaking, ready.
He rubbed the head through her folds, coating himself in her wetness.
“Still sore?” he asked, voice strained with restraint.
She nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t care. I want you.”
Something raw flashed in his eyes.
He pushed in slowly—inch by thick inch—watching her face the entire time. When he bottomed out, they both groaned.
He stayed still, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to hers.
“f**k, you feel perfect,” he whispered. “So tight. So f*****g mine.”
Then he started moving.
Deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. Not the punishing pace of last night—this was slower, more intimate. Every stroke felt like a claim.
One hand tangled in her hair. The other gripped her thigh, holding her open for him.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
She did.
Their eyes locked as he f****d her—slow, deep, devastating.
“You’re not just a debt anymore,” he rasped between thrusts. “You’re not collateral. You’re mine, Elena. My woman. My obsession.”
Tears pricked her eyes—not from pain, but from the intensity of it all.
He kissed them away.
“Come with me this time,” he whispered against her lips.
His pace quickened. One hand slipped between them to rub her c**t.
She came first—clenching around him, crying out his name like a prayer.
He followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside her again, hot and endless.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, hearts hammering in sync.
After long minutes, he rolled them so she lay on his chest once more, his softening c**k still inside her.
His fingers stroked lazily up and down her spine.
“I have meetings today,” he said quietly. “You’ll stay here. Safe.”
She lifted her head. “Am I a prisoner in a prettier cage?”
His hand stilled. Then cupped her cheek.
“You’re protected. There’s a difference.” His thumb brushed her swollen lips. “But if you try to run…” His eyes darkened with promise. “I’ll chase you. Catch you. And when I do, I won’t be gentle.”
A shiver ran through her.
She should hate the threat.
Instead, it sent fresh heat curling low in her belly.
Dante noticed. Of course he did.
A wicked smile curved his lips.
“Again?” he murmured, already hardening inside her.
She bit her lip, nodding before she could think better of it.
He flipped her onto her back with a low laugh.
“Then let’s make sure you can’t walk straight for the rest of the day.”
And as he started moving again—deep, possessive, relentless—Elena realized with terrifying clarity:
She wasn’t just falling.
She was already lost.
And the devil holding her?
He had no intention of ever letting her go.
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