Addiction & Surrender

Dante's Breaking Point

Crawl

It had been weeks.

Long enough I almost convinced myself he was gone for good.

Long enough I stopped checking my phone every hour.

Long enough I let the ache settle into something dull, something survivable.

Until he wasn’t gone.

Until he showed up at the parking lot.

Until he was standing at my door again—uninvited, unannounced, like nothing had changed.

The knock rattled through me.

Three slow, deliberate pounds.

I knew it was him before I even opened it.

Knew by the way my pulse kicked, by the way my throat closed around his name.

When I swung the door open, he didn’t wait for permission.

Dante pushed inside, his eyes blistering with the kind of hunger that didn’t fade with distance.

He was shaking.

Starving.

Unhinged.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His voice was low, rough, like it hurt him to say it.

“I thought you got the message.”

I crossed my arms, forcing steel into my spine I didn’t actually feel.

“Yeah?” He stepped closer. “What message was that? That you’re his now?”

His jaw clenched.

“That you’re done with me?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust the way my body was already leaning toward him.

Didn’t trust the way I wanted to melt and fight him in the same breath.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like something was clawing him apart from the inside.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His eyes pinned me, sharp and fraying.

“You push me away. You pull him closer. You want me to burn for you.”

His mouth twisted, bitter and beautiful.

“Well, sweetheart, congratulations. I’ve been burning.”

The silence between us cracked at the edges.

He moved fast—gripping my face like he was afraid I’d disappear again.

His forehead slammed against mine.

“I came back for you.”

His breath was shaking.

“I always come back.”

I could taste the question bleeding from his skin: Will you send me away again?

I hated him for leaving.

Hated him for coming back.

Hated that I still wanted him to stay.

I swallowed hard. “Why now?”

His thumb dragged across my lower lip, soft and brutal all at once.

“Because you’re mine.”

His words detonated against my mouth.

“And you’re not gonna let him take that from me.”

His lips crashed into mine before I could stop him—wild, desperate, claiming.

His hands tangled in my hair, his body shoving me back against the door like he needed to pin me to the moment.

I kissed him back like I needed him to hurt.

Like I wanted him to break me.

And maybe I did.

But then—

He tore away, panting, his forehead still pressed to mine.

His restraint rattled between us.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered. “I’ll never be done.”

“What do you want, Dante?”

Flat. Empty. Like maybe I’d forgotten him.

His eyes flicked over me—searching for the soft place he always landed.

It wasn’t there tonight.

“I just—” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated, desperate. “I needed to see you.”

“Why? So you can leave again?”

He winced. “I don’t know how to stay.”

His voice cracked, like the weight of his own failure was choking him.

“But I can’t stay away, either.”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, making him stand there in the hallway like a f*****g stray.

“So beg.”

His mouth parted like he didn’t hear me right.

“What?”

“You heard me. If you’re going to come back and wreck me, the least you can do is beg for it.”

His throat bobbed. Shame darkened his face, but his body betrayed him—his pupils blown wide, his breath hitching.

“Please V.”

His voice was low, broken.

“Please let me in. Please don’t shut me out.”

I stepped aside. He followed like he didn’t know where else to go.

“Get on your knees.”

His hands shook as he dropped to the floor, kneeling in the middle of my apartment like he belonged there.

Because he did.

“Tell me.”

I circled him slowly, letting silence carve into him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” His voice trembled. “I want your hands on me. I want your mouth. I want your f*****g permission to fall apart again.”

I dragged my nails through his hair, tugged his head back until he gasped.

“And what do you give me in return?”

“Anything.”

No hesitation.

“Everything.”

I yanked him up by his collar—hard enough to make him stumble, hard enough to remind him he was mine to move.

I kissed him like he was disposable. Like I could devour him and spit him out without a second thought.

Like I wasn’t starving for him.

Like I didn’t ache for him.

But I did.

I always did.

I just wouldn’t let him know it.

“Strip.”

He hesitated for half a second. Long enough to make my palm twitch with the urge to slap the obedience back into him.

“Now.”

His hands flew to his belt, clumsy in his rush to please me. His shirt hit the floor, his pants followed, but I stayed fully dressed—towering over him, letting him feel every inch of the distance I built between us.

“On your knees.”

My voice was low. Firm. Sharp enough to make his c**k twitch, even as his pride withered.

“Tell me what you want.”

His throat bobbed. “I want you.”

“Wrong answer.”

I squeezed his jaw, my thumb pressing against his pulse point, feeling how fast I made his heart race.

“Try again.”

“I want to taste you.”

His voice cracked.

“I want to make you come. I want to please you, V, I want—”

“Beg.”

I released his jaw with a sharp shove.

His breathing turned ragged. His c**k was already hard, aching, leaking.

“Please.”

He licked his lips like they’d gone dry.

“Please let me taste you. Please let me feel you. Please—God, please—use me V.”

I stepped out of my panties, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and dragged his face between my legs.

“Then do it right.”

And he did.

His mouth worked with desperate, worshipful precision—lips, tongue, teeth—all of it frantic and messy and so f*****g good but I didn’t let him have it easy.

Every time I got close, I pulled him away.

Every time he moaned into me like he’d die without the taste, I tightened my grip in his hair and made him look up at me, made him beg with his eyes.

"You don't stop until i come"

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was shredded, soaked in need.

“Please—don’t stop me. I need this—I need you.”

I pushed him back down.

I rode his mouth, grinding shamelessly against his face, using him like he wasn’t a man I loved—but a man I owned.

When I finally shattered—when the waves tore through me and left my thighs trembling—I let him feel the weight of me, let him taste all of it, let him know exactly what he’d earned.

I didn’t let him up. Not right away.

“You wanted to make me come?” I dragged my thumb across his soaked lips, smearing myself on his mouth.

“You did.”

He looked wrecked. Eyes glassy, hair wild, c**k flushed and leaking.

“Now crawl to the couch.”

He hesitated, his body vibrating with the urge to disobey—like he wanted to grab me, pin me, flip the game.

But he didn’t.

He crawled.

I followed, slow, calculated. I made him kneel at the edge while I sat back like I wasn’t even fazed.

“Touch yourself.”

I crossed my legs, leaned my chin on my hand, watched him wrap his fist around his c**k with a trembling groan.

“Look at me while you do it.”

He stroked himself slow at first, like he wanted to drag it out, like he thought I might show him mercy.

I didn’t.

“Faster.”

His hips stuttered, his breathing turned ragged, desperate.

“You don’t get to come until I say so.”

“Please, Val—please—I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

“Oh, you will.” I dragged my heel up his thigh, not touching him where he needed it.

“Or I’ll make you start over.”

His whole body was shaking now, his forehead pressed to my knee as he begged. “Please—f**k—please let me—I need to—”

His voice cracked into something raw. “Please, ma’am. Please, I’ll do anything.”

I laced my fingers in his hair and forced his head back. I wanted to see his face when I broke him.

“Come.”

His body shattered instantly, c*m striping his stomach and thighs as he moaned like he’d been waiting his whole life for that permission.

I let him fall against me, his breathing ragged, his skin hot.

But I didn’t hold him.

“Get dressed.”

He blinked at me, dazed, trying to catch up.

“You don’t get to sleep here.” I whispered against his lips. “You earned my body, not my bed.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to protest, but the rules were carved into him now.

So he obeyed.

And when he left, looking like I’d gutted him, I smiled.

Because I had him.

All of him.

And we both knew it.