Chapter 11: Pleasure and Punishment

Ava's POV

Dante’s words haunted me.

"You are not safe anymore."

Not just because Magnus had been watching. Not just because my life was tangled in secrets I didn’t understand.

But because the real danger was inside these walls.

It was the way Dante looked at me now—possessive, hungry, on edge. The way his fingers brushed against my skin, teasing but never satisfying.

He had taken me, ruined me, but still—he wanted me begging.

And the worst part?

I was losing my mind with need.

\---------------

The Morning After

Sunlight streamed through the penthouse windows, casting golden hues over the silk sheets.

I stretched, my body still aching from last night, but Dante’s side of the bed was empty.

A cruel reminder.

He had taken me to the edge.

Destroyed me.

Claimed me.

And then he had left.

Frustration coiled in my stomach. My body was still alive with need, my skin overly sensitive, my lips swollen from the way he had devoured me.

I refused to beg.

But I needed his touch like a drug.

Throwing the covers aside, I slipped into the silk robe he had left for me and made my way out of the bedroom.

I found him in the dining area, dressed in a black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through his phone.

He looked casual, unaffected—like he hadn’t spent the night devouring me, driving me insane, making me fall apart beneath him.

I set my jaw. Fine. If he could pretend, so could I.

I walked past him, making sure to sway my hips just enough.

His eyes flicked up, sharp and calculating.

Good.

I reached for a coffee cup, the silk robe I wore slipping just enough to expose bare skin beneath.

A slow inhale from behind me.

I smirked to myself.

Checkmate.

Or so I thought.

\------------------

The New Punishment

Dante moved before I could react.

One moment, I was sipping my coffee. The next, I was trapped against the counter, his body pressing against mine.

His fingers brushed my throat, his voice dark with warning.

“You think you can play games with me?”

His lips hovered over my pulse, his breath hot, his scent—dark spice and leather—invading my senses.

“You still don’t understand who’s in control.”

I should have fought back. I should have challenged him.

Instead, I shivered.

His other hand slipped inside my robe, trailing fire up my bare thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to where I needed him most.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

He smirked.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So desperate. So easy to break."

I arched against him, my body betraying me, heat pooling deep in my core.

And then—he pulled away.

A strangled sound of frustration escaped me.

Dante chuckled, brushing a teasing kiss along my jaw.

“I told you, little one,” he murmured. “If you want pleasure, you’ll have to beg for it.”

My pride bristled. I glared at him, refusing to let him see how much he was affecting me.

I would not beg.

But I could make him suffer just as much.

I reached down, letting my fingers brush the hard length pressing against his slacks, my nails teasing over the fabric.

His breath hitched.

For the first time, his control cracked.

I leaned up, my lips grazing his ear. "If I have to beg," I whispered, "then so do you."

His entire body went tense.

And just like that—the game changed.

\----------

Dante’s grip on my wrists tightened, his expression darkening.

"You shouldn't have done that," he warned.

Before I could react, he spun me around, pressing me flush against the counter, his chest hot against my back.

His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my skin.

And then he tore my robe from my body.

A gasp escaped me as cool air kissed my exposed skin.

"You push me too far," he growled, his lips trailing fire down my neck, across my shoulders, his teeth grazing, nipping, marking.

I trembled.

"You want me to lose control?" he murmured, his hands spreading my legs, teasing me, tormenting me.

"You have no idea what you're asking for."

Then he gave me exactly what I wanted.

His fingers slid inside me, relentless, curling, stroking, pushing me closer and closer to the edge—only to stop just as I was about to break.

I cried out in frustration.

"Beg," he ordered.

I clenched my jaw, refusing.

He chuckled darkly. "Still stubborn, even now?"

His other hand wrapped around my throat, tilting my head back so his lips could capture mine, kissing me deep, punishing.

I whimpered against him.

His grip on my throat tightened just enough to make my pulse hammer.

"You will break for me," he murmured against my lips.

I was already falling apart.

I swallowed hard, my pride warring with my need.

"Say it," he coaxed, his voice a sinful temptation. "Tell me what you need."

I bit my lip, fighting the words.

His fingers moved again, slow, teasing, drawing out my torment.

My body betrayed me.

"Please," I finally gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

Dante stilled.

Then he growled low in satisfaction.

"Good girl."

And then he ruined me.

\------

A New Warning

I refused to break.

I wouldn’t beg.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t hate him for this.

Dante finally released me, stepping back like he hadn’t just set my entire body on fire. His dark eyes flickered with something cruelly satisfied, knowing exactly what he had done to me—what he had denied me.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with dangerous amusement.

And I hated him for that too.

I smoothed my hands over my robe, pretending I wasn’t burning inside, pretending I wasn’t seconds away from losing my mind.

But then—his smirk faded.

His eyes darkened, shifting into something lethal.

“Lucien is watching you.”

The words were sharp, cutting through the thick air between us.

The shift was so abrupt I barely processed it.

“What?” I asked breathlessly.

Dante’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

Controlled.

Calculated.

Deadly.

“He’s been near the penthouse,” he said, voice like steel. “He’s waiting for an opportunity.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Lucien.

The man who whispered forbidden temptations in my ear, the one who taunted Dante at every turn, who made me question my own loyalty—

Who made me feel like I had a choice.

And yet…

I swallowed hard, shifting beneath Dante’s piercing gaze. “And what if I want to talk to him?”

The silence that followed was lethal.

Dante pushed off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey.

I stood my ground.

His body loomed over mine, his presence suffocating, his heat searing against my skin without even touching me.

“Be very careful with what you say next, Ava,” he murmured, his voice low and deadly.

My breath hitched.

A wicked part of me wanted to push him further, to see what he would do.

But another part of me knew—

I had already pushed enough.

Dante reached out, his fingers skimming along my jaw, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

Dark.

Dangerous.

Possessive.

“You want to know what happens if you talk to him?” he asked, his voice a quiet threat.

My pulse hammered against my throat.

“If you ever let him touch you again…” His lips ghosted over mine, a whisper of heat, a cruel tease, a promise wrapped in fire.

“I will remind you who you belong to.”

His hand slid down my throat, wrapping around it, his grip firm but not tight—not yet.

My breath shuddered out of me.

He wasn’t choking me.

But he could.

I felt the silent warning, the power thrumming between us, the unspoken truth that Dante would break me apart and put me back together in his image.

A shiver ran through me, but it wasn’t fear.

It was something much more dangerous.

Desire.

His lips brushed against mine, just barely there—not enough to satisfy, only enough to leave me craving.

A kiss that wasn’t a kiss.

A punishment.

A claim.

And then he pulled away.

Leaving me standing there, aching, burning, craving.

And I hated myself for it.