Chapter 55 Chapter 55
Chapter 55
Dante’s POV
The house was silent in the dead of night. The kind of silence that pressed in on you, thick and heavy, like the snow outside blanketing everything in white. I could not sleep. The day had been a storm of chaos. Bombs. Gunfire.
The sheik’s men closing in. Nina’s face when she collapsed, gasping for air. It all replayed in my head, over and over, like a bad film I could not turn off. My body was wired, pent-up energy buzzing under my skin, frustrations boiling from the close calls and the risks we took. I needed release. Something to burn it out.
I slipped out of my room, the wooden floor cool under my bare feet. The hallway was dim, lit only by a small lamp at the end. I heard soft breathing from the other rooms.
Nikolai resting after his wounds. Enzo snoring lightly. Nina somewhere, hopefully asleep after everything. The thought of her made my chest tight. That girl. Always trouble, but she got under my skin in ways I did not like to admit. I pushed it down. No time for that.
The Russian woman waited in the guest living room, just like I had told her. She was beautiful. Tall and curved in all the right places, with long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back.
Her skin was pale and smooth, like porcelain, and her eyes were blue, sharp and knowing. She wore nothing but the fur coat now, open at the front, showing the full swell of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the trim patch of hair between her legs. She smiled when I entered, slow and inviting, her red lips parting slightly.
“You look tense,” she said, accent thick and sexy. She let the coat slip off one shoulder, exposing more skin.
I closed the door behind me, the click loud in the quiet house. “I am,” I said, voice low. I stepped closer, my eyes taking her in. Her nipples were already hard, pink and peaked from the cool air. I reached out, my hand cupping one breast, thumb rolling over the nipple.
She gasped, arching into my touch. Her skin was soft, warm, and she smelled like vanilla and musk. Perfect for what I needed.
I shrugged off my shirt, letting it drop to the floor. My body was hard from the tension, muscles coiled tight. She ran her hands over my chest, nails lightly scratching, sending sparks through me. I grabbed her waist, pulling her close, my mouth crashing onto hers. The kiss was rough, hungry.
My tongue pushed in, tasting her, dominating. She moaned into my mouth, her hands fumbling with my pants. I helped her, shoving them down, my cock springing free, hard and throbbing. The frustration from the day fueled me, making me ache for release.
I turned her around, bending her over the bed. She braced on her hands, ass up, back arched. Her pussy was wet already, glistening in the low light. I ran my fingers along her slit, feeling the heat, the slickness. She whimpered, pushing back against my hand. “Please,” she begged, voice breathy.
I teased her clit, circling slow, making her squirm. Her juices coated my fingers, and I brought them to my mouth, tasting her—sweet and salty. My cock twitched, eager.
I positioned myself behind her, gripping her hips. My tip pressed against her entrance, sliding in slow at first, inch by inch. She was tight, hot, clenching around me. I groaned, the sensation overwhelming. I thrust deeper, filling her completely.
She cried out, her body rocking back to meet me. I started moving, hard and fast, the slap of skin loud in the room. Her ass jiggled with each thrust, red from my hands gripping tight. I reached around, fingers finding her clit again, rubbing in circles as I pounded into her. She moaned louder,
“Faster, daddy, yes!” Her pussy squeezed me, milking my cock. The frustration poured out with each thrust, the day’s anger turning to pleasure.
I pulled her hair, tilting her head back, exposing her neck. I bit lightly, sucking the skin, leaving marks. She gasped, her body trembling. I switched pace, slowing down to deep, grinding thrusts, feeling every inch of her. Her walls fluttered around me, close to the edge.
I sped up again, slamming in, the bed creaking under us. Sweat dripped down my back, her moans turning to cries. I felt the build, the tension coiling low in my belly.
I flipped her over, wanting to see her face. She lay on her back, legs spread wide, pussy red and swollen from my cock. I pushed in again, missionary now, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. I leaned down, sucking one nipple hard, biting lightly. She arched, nails digging into my back, drawing blood. The pain mixed with pleasure, pushing me higher.
I hooked her legs over my shoulders, going deeper, hitting that spot inside her that made her scream. Her eyes rolled back, body shaking as she came, her pussy clenching tight around me, juices soaking the sheets. The sensation was intense, her walls pulsing, pulling me in.
I kept going, chasing my own release. I pulled out, turning her to her side, lifting one leg. I slid in from behind, spooning her, my hand on her breast, pinching the nipple. She whimpered, oversensitive but still pushing back.
I thrust slow at first, building again, then faster, the angle hitting new places. Her moans filled the room, soft and needy. I reached between her legs, rubbing her clit, making her come again. Her body convulsed, squeezing me hard. I felt the edge, the pressure building.
I turned her to face me, pulling her on top. She straddled me, sinking down on my cock, her pussy hot and wet. She rode me slow, grinding her hips, her breasts bouncing in my face. I sucked one, hands on her ass, guiding her.
She sped up, bouncing harder, her moans turning to gasps. The sight of her—hair wild, skin flushed, eyes locked on mine—pushed me over. I thrust up to meet her, deep and hard. The frustration exploded out, my release building like a wave.
But then I sensed it. Nina’s scent. Faint but there—fresh soap and something sweet, like the lavender from Nana’s hug. My eyes flicked to the mirror on the wall. Her reflection.
Standing in the doorway, wrapped in a comforter, eyes wide. Watching. My face hardened, anger mixing with the pleasure. What was she doing here?
I blinked, thrusting one last time, my release hitting hard. I groaned, spilling inside her, the Russian woman crying out as she came again. Waves of pleasure rolled through me, body tensing, then relaxing. When I opened my eyes, the reflection was gone. Nina was not there.
The door was closed. Had she been real? Or just my mind playing tricks? The Russian woman collapsed on me, breathing hard, but I pushed her off, sitting up. The room felt colder. Nina had seen. And now what?