17: Nothing But Pleasure
17: Nothing But Pleasure
Isabella’s POV
I felt it before Luca did.
A chill slid under my skin, curling low in my stomach—wrong, cold, but familiar.
It wasn’t just a presence.
It was him.
Dante.
The moment the thought crossed my mind, Luca’s grip tightened—his body going still, too still.
His silver eyes lifted, fixing on a point just behind me.
And I felt it then—an invisible touch against my skin.
A voice, smooth and dark, curling through my thoughts.
"He’ll never tell you the truth, Isabella."
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Luca’s snarl vibrated through my chest, his hand moving to shield my throat.
"You shouldn’t be here," he growled, his voice low, dangerous.
Dante’s presence pulsed stronger, his voice a soft, mocking whisper inside my mind.
"You’re calling to me, Bella. Do you feel it?"
I gasped, my body arching involuntarily against Luca’s chest.
I shouldn’t have wanted it.
Shouldn’t have wanted either of them.
But my body burned with something I couldn’t explain, and the sensation only intensified the longer Dante’s presence lingered.
Luca’s jaw clenched, his fangs bared, the heat of his anger melting through the cold Dante left behind.
"You think you can reach her?" he hissed. "She belongs to me."
His grip shifted, forcing my legs apart, dragging me closer until the hard length of his cock pressed against my thigh.
Dante’s laughter—low and dark—echoed in my mind.
"You can mark her all you want, Devereaux."
"But she’s already mine where it matters."
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Luca’s hand slid between my thighs, and I whimpered at the rough, punishing pressure as he dragged his fingers over the soaked lace of my panties.
"Does he make you this wet?" he demanded, his breath hot against my ear.
I shook my head—a lie and a truth.
Luca chuckled darkly, but his hold was tense—like even this couldn’t drive Dante out of me.
"You’re mine," he growled, thrusting his hips against me. "And I’m going to remind you of it."
His fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric, brushing my slick folds, spreading me open as he stroked the swollen bud of my clit.
A moan ripped from my throat—helpless, needy—but the second it escaped, the air shifted again.
Dante’s presence faded—but not completely.
I felt him… lingering. Waiting.
And Luca knew it.
He pulled his hand away suddenly, leaving me aching, empty—frustrated.
"Enough," he growled.
Before I could speak, he lifted me into his arms, possessive and furious.
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Luca carried me down a dim corridor, his jaw still tight with rage, but his hands were gentle as he pressed me against his chest.
He pushed open a heavy door, revealing a bathroom wrapped in marble and shadow—a large, glass-walled shower already steaming.
Without a word, he set me down, peeling my clothes off—slow, deliberate, his fingers brushing across every exposed inch of my skin.
"Luca…" My voice trembled—not from fear, but from the raw tension still pulsing between us.
He stepped back to strip off his own shirt, and fuck—I would never get used to the sight of him.
All hard muscle and lean power, veins standing out beneath the ink-black tattoos curling across his chest.
His cock—thick, heavy, still achingly hard—stood out against his sculpted body, and my thighs clenched in response.
But when his eyes met mine, the heat had cooled into something else.
Not rage.
Not jealousy.
Possession.
"You want me to claim you, dolcezza?" His voice was a low purr, sliding over my skin like silk.
I swallowed hard, my legs feeling weak beneath me. "Yes."
Luca pulled me under the hot spray, the water cascading down our skin as he backed me against the glass.
His hands roamed lower, kneading my hips, dragging his lips along my throat until I was panting, squirming against him.
"You drive me mad," he murmured, sinking to his knees.
My stomach twisted with anticipation as he spread my thighs, his breath warm against my core.
And then—his tongue swept through my folds, hot and unforgiving.
I gasped, fisting his wet hair as he licked slow, teasing circles around my clit, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me from moving.
"You taste sweeter when you’re desperate," he murmured against me, his voice rough.
His tongue flattened, dragging from my entrance to the sensitive bud, swirling, flicking in a rhythm that made my legs tremble.
My body burned with helpless need, and Luca knew exactly how to break me.
He slid two fingers inside me, stretching me open as his mouth latched onto my clit—sucking hard and slow.
My breath hitched, pleasure coiling so tight I thought I might break.
"Please," I whimpered.
His answering growl vibrated against my swollen flesh, the sensation driving me closer to the edge of sanity.
"You’ll cum on my tongue," he ordered, curling his fingers deeper, dragging against my sweet spot.
I couldn’t fight it.
Couldn’t stop it.
When he sucked harder, his tongue circling my clit while his fingers fucked me relentlessly, the coil inside me snapped.
I cried out, my body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through me, my thighs trembling against his face.
He didn’t stop.
He kept licking me through it, drinking me in, until I sagged against the glass, boneless and wrecked.
When he stood, his lips were still wet with me, his eyes dark and filled with triumph.
"You’re mine," he said softly.
And this time, I didn’t argue.
Luca pulled me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as the water streamed around us.
But even as he held me—even as he tried to wash Dante away—
I still felt it.
A soft, faint whisper curling through my mind.
"I’m not finished with you, Isabella."