Chapter 34 Seraphine
Slowly, deliberately, I traced the outline of my lips, feather-light. A shiver rolled through me. I remembered the way his voice dropped when he said my name. The heat in his eyes. The way he’d stood behind me, close enough that my whole body responded before I could think.
My clit twitched at the memory — swollen, aching — and I bit down hard on my lip to contain the quiet sound that escaped me.
The room was silent except for my ragged breathing, each inhale sharper than the last. Dante’s words echoed in my head, low and dark:
“Some things don’t become important. They simply are.”
Why did that sentence burrow under my skin? Why did he?
My fingers dipped lower, parting my folds. I was dripping — embarrassingly so — and the warmth of it made me squeeze my eyes shut.
In my mind, Dante was still behind me. Still watching me. Still burning.
I slid my finger inside, my walls clenching instantly, and the moan that slipped out this time was small but impossible to hold back. My hips rocked gently into my hand, chasing more, needing more — my body moving like it already knew his touch, like it remembered something it shouldn’t.
Every thought twisted back to him.
His heat.
His stare.
His voice in that ancient language I wasn’t supposed to understand… but somehow did.
My breath caught again, harder this time. I could almost imagine his hand covering mine, guiding my movements. I could almost hear the soft growl in his chest when he said I was important.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
My body trembled.
And all I could think —
all I could want —
was him.
I added a second finger, moving with a rhythm that felt natural — my body guiding me, my need guiding me. My thumb brushed my clit and I gasped, the sensation almost too much. My clit pulsed harder, throbbing with each beat of my racing heart, and I knew I was close. Too close.
My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as the tension curled tighter and tighter inside me. I could feel it gathering, spiraling, pulling me toward the edge.
And everything — every bit of heat flooding my body — was because of him.
The way he said my name.
The way he stepped into my space.
The way he made me feel seen — really seen — like I wasn’t too much or not enough, but perfectly right.
My fingers moved faster. Deeper. I didn’t care how desperate I sounded anymore. I didn’t care how soaked my hand was. I didn’t care about anything except the pressure building so fast I could barely breathe.
My hips rocked urgently, meeting each thrust of my fingers, my body chasing the climax with single-minded hunger.
I pressed my thumb harder to my clit, curling my fingers inside me, and a strangled cry tore from my throat — part pleasure, part desperation.
My body tensed, every muscle going tight as I held my breath—
And then I shattered.
The orgasm hit me like a wave — sudden, explosive, overwhelming. My pussy clenched around my fingers, milking them as I rode out the release. My clit throbbed relentlessly, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me as I moaned, unable to stop the sounds pouring from my mouth.
I shook through it, trembling, my legs weak and useless as the pleasure kept rolling through me in waves. My fingers slowed automatically, easing the oversensitive ache as I came down, breathless and shaking.
When it finally ebbed, I pulled my hand from between my thighs. My fingers glistened with my release, and without thinking — without shame — I brought them to my lips.
I tasted myself.
Salty. Sweet. Warm.
God.
I collapsed back against the pillows, my body boneless, my mind hazy and soft… filled with one thought that refused to fade:
Dante.
And sleep finally dragged me under.
It pulled me under fast — like my body had been waiting all night to give in.
And the moment I slipped under, he was there.
Dante.
Not standing across a room.
Not watching me with that intense, unreadable stare.
But close.
So close I could feel the heat radiating off him before he even touched me.
I knew it was a dream — but god, it felt real.
I stood somewhere that didn’t exist in real life.
A room made of shadows and soft light, warm air curling around me.
And he walked toward me like he’d been summoned.
His eyes locked on mine — molten dark, burning… hungry.
My pulse jumped.
He lifted a hand, brushing a finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up to him. That single touch made heat scatter down my neck, across my chest. His skin was warm — almost too warm — like he was holding back something fierce inside him.
“Seraphine,” he murmured.
God.
The way he said my name…
Like it tasted good.
Like it belonged to him.
He leaned down slowly — giving me time to pull away, even in the dream.
I didn’t.
His mouth touched mine, soft at first, almost questioning. My breath hitched. My whole body lit up. He kissed me again, deeper this time, and my hands fell against his chest, filled with the impossible heat of him.
He kissed like he wanted to claim something.
Like he already had.
The room melted around us.
His hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. The warmth of his body sank into me, steady and consuming. It wasn’t lust, not just that — it was inevitability. Like we were standing on the edge of something neither of us could stop.
“Do you feel it?” he whispered against my mouth.
His breath traced fire across my lips.
I nodded. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to — the heat, the connection, the terrifying pull in my chest — but I felt it. God, I felt it.
He pressed his forehead to mine.
“Good,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “You’re waking up.”
I blinked. “Waking up… what?”
He smiled — slow, knowing, devastating.
“Everything that’s been sleeping inside you.”
My breath stuttered.
His thumb brushed my lower lip, lingering there as if memorizing the shape of it.
“I’ve waited for you,” he whispered.
“Longer than you think.”
The heat in his eyes brightened — glowing, almost inhuman — and my heart lurched at the sight.