Chapter Hundred-Nine – Blooming

Chapter Hundred-Nine – Blooming


It elicited a sigh from us both. The feeling of him inside me was so intense, my body trembled with pleasure. His lips parted so he could drag in ragged breaths as I started to move, and his head tipped further back, his eyes drifting closed.

He lifted his head, opened his eyes, and simply stared at me. Seated all the way, his hand on my waist, he urged me to rock on him. The first stroke wrung a whimper from my lips.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“So… good.” We found our rhythm, his sensual hands resuming their work. They caressed my breasts, notching over my hardened nipples. They smoothed along my thighs. Slid up my back, tracing my spine.
But it was his heavy-lidded gaze that held all my attention as I rode him,

my body threatening to unravel. I had my hands on his chest for leverage,

but I lifted them and laced my fingers together behind his neck, pulling him to me. When our mouths locked together, time suspended. Nothing existed outside of this room. Nothing lived beyond the two of us, our bodies connected as one.

I moved slowly, rocking my hips in a circular motion, grinding my clit against him, trembling with the intensity. Sweat dampened our temples and moans drifted from our lips, and he reached forward to tease my breasts with his mouth and teeth. His free hand on my ass pushed and pulled, lifting me to keep up the urgent tempo.

I circled my hands behind me onto his knees and rode him. His gaze caught fire, trailing from my parted lips to my bouncing breasts to where he slid in and out of me. I was so wet it was dripping down my thighs.

His eyes locked there and one of his hands slipped between us to trace my landing strip until he found my clit. He rubbed it in a circular motion,

his mouth licking and sucking my nipples. I moaned, every touch feeding the hot buzz in my core, pleasure nearly overwhelming me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned against my ear, his heartbeat racing against mine.

His hands were everywhere—down my spine, grabbing fistfuls of my hair to angle my head the way he wanted it so he could keep me harder and deeper.

And then he took over completely.

I threw my head back. His deep thrusts shook my body all the way down to my foundation. He grunted and strained as he chased his breath,

but he didn’t stop driving.

“Oh… God… please… ahhhh.” He swallowed my gasp in his mouth as I climaxed with the force of a category five hurricane. I came so hard spots scattered behind my eyes.

He clamped his strong arms around my body and buried his face in my chest while a series of pleasure-soaked moans fell from his lips. And, with a punishing last thrust and a shudder, he finished inside me, softly nipping my neck in a rough sort of appreciation.

His mouth brushed against me as he whispered, “I love you so fucking much,” and warmth filled me like sunlight.

I curled my fingers in his hair as our heavy breaths filled the silence, our naked flesh pressed against together. I was high on a languid post-coital bliss when I rested my face in the crook of his neck.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, leaving the air heavy and quiet. The fire in the small stove was still burning low when Isabella woke. Dante was still asleep, his arm draped over her waist. For a few seconds, she just looked at him — calm for once, not frowning, not tense.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on one of his shirts. The floor creaked a little under her bare feet as she walked to the kitchen corner. The old clock on the wall ticked unevenly.

A few minutes later, Dante appeared behind her, rubbing his neck. “You’re up early,” he muttered.

“You were hogging the blanket,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He smirked faintly. “You could’ve just pulled it.”

“You’d have complained.”

He walked past her, opened the cabinet, and frowned. “We’ve got coffee and… something that looks like cereal from the 90s.”

“That’s not cereal,” Isabella said, peering into the jar. “That’s dried beans.”

“Perfect,” he said flatly. “Breakfast of champions.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out a pan. “Sit down. I’ll make something.”

“You sure? You burned toast the last time.”

“That was your fault,” she shot back. “You distracted me.”

“Pretty sure the fire did that.”

“Sit.”

He lifted his hands in mock surrender and sat at the table. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a while, it was normal — or something close to it. The sound of oil sizzling, the smell of eggs, the clatter of plates. Isabella hummed under her breath, some tune she probably didn’t even realize she knew. Dante watched her, elbows on the table, eyes following her every small movement.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking up.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Feels like I should remember this. A kitchen. Breakfast. Normal things.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. You still have to wash the dishes.”

“Fair trade.”

They ate quietly at first. Dante broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking. When this is over—”

“If it’s ever over,” Isabella interrupted.

“When,” he repeated. “When it’s over, maybe we find a place that isn’t a safe house or a hideout. Just somewhere quiet. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I don’t remember what quiet feels like anymore.”

He reached across the table and brushed his thumb over her hand. “Then we’ll find out together.”

Before she could answer, a loud vibration buzzed against the wood — her phone. She frowned. “I thought we turned those off.”

“We did,” Dante said, already standing. “Let me see.”

He checked the screen — an unknown number, no message. Then the screen went black again.

“Could be nothing,” Isabella said, though her voice wavered a little.

Dante slipped the phone into his pocket. “Or it could be everything.”

They went back to their plates, but neither ate much. The easy mood had shifted. Every noise outside made them glance at the door.

Later, they got into the car to head toward the nearby town — Dante wanted to pick up supplies, Isabella insisted on coming along.

She reached over and turned the radio knob even though there was just static. “Feels less quiet this way,” she said.

Dante nodded, eyes on the road. “You sure you want to come? I can go alone.”

“No. You’ll just get into trouble.”

He snorted. “Fair.”