Page 78 of Ivory Crown

“Please,” she screamed. “Please, more.”

Her plea was like a match to tinder, fueling the fire within me. I complied, driving into her with an intensity that shook us both to our cores. With each thrust, I intended to claim her, to make her feel what she did to me — this maddening, insatiable desire that made my heart pound in my chest.

Her body responded beautifully — twisting and writhing beneath me, meeting each of my movements with one of her own. Each cry that escaped from her was a symphony of pleasure that drove me deeper into the abyss of need.

“Fuck…” I groaned as the pleasure surged within me. My grip on her tightened, fingers digging into her flesh as I sought purchase. Jade whimpered in response, her body quivering as she neared her climax.

I could feel it — the flutter of her inner walls around me, the tremble in her thighs, the desperate gasps escaping from between her parted lips. It was all building up to a crescendo that promised to shatter us both.

And then she was there, crying out my name as she tipped over the edge. She convulsed beneath me, her body gripping mine in a vice-like hold as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

I gently pulled out of her, collapsing next to her on the bed, my arm instinctively pulling her closer into me. Our naked bodies were pressed together, my hand tracing lazy circles on her skin.

Jade turned to look at me, her beautiful eyes heavy-lidded but glowing with unshed tears of satisfaction and relief. She snuggled closer into me, her head resting on my chest as if it had always been its home. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming.

“You okay?” I asked her.

She smiled at me before nuzzling into the crook of my arm. “Yes,” she said. “Never better.”

Chapter Forty-Five: Jade

For a second, everything felt like it was fine.

Like I wasn’t trapped with a man who had imprisoned me, like I wasn’t pregnant by a sex-crazed mafia prince.

But as I woke up in his bed, the headache came back.

Sunlight nudged its way through the curtains, a gentle herald of the morning as it painted a soft glow across our entwined forms. I stirred, the weariness of sleepless hours clinging to me like a second skin—a reminder of both my body’s unrest and the new life quietly unfurling within. Hunger, sharp and demanding, gnawed at my insides, an insistent whisper that I wasn’t just feeding myself now. Beside me, Dante was the picture of serenity, his breathing a steady rhythm that hypnotized with its calm cadence.

I shifted, a mere inch, yet it was enough to send a wave of heat coursing through me. The memories of last night—his hands, his mouth, the way he moved—tumbled over one another, vivid and unbidden. I reached for the glass of water perched precariously on the bedside table, my throat parched but my mind still half-drowned in the remnants of pleasure that clung to my skin like the scent of his cologne.

The cool liquid did little to quench the thirst that now took root elsewhere, a thirst that had everything to do with the man who lay beside me. His chest rose and fell, each breath a silent promise of the power that lay dormant beneath his skin. The contrast between the Dante who ruled the night with iron and fire and this quiet, almost vulnerable figure was stark, and in that moment, with the crisp light of dawn spilling over us, I saw the man behind the myth.

Should I try to kill him? If I put a pillow over his head, maybe he wouldn’t wake up in time.

But the very idea of it set me on edge. I didn’t want him to die. Right then, part of me didn’t even know if I wanted him to set me free.

“Jade,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, and something in me tightened. It wasn’t just his name for me, but the way he said it—like I was the secret he never knew he’d kept.

I looked at him, choosing not to answer, waiting for him to say something else.

Dante’s eyes remained closed, the dark lashes resting against the contours of his face, casting faint shadows over his olive skin. I watched him, this enigma of a man whose life was entangled with secrets and danger. The pull towards him was undeniable, a force that had drawn me into his orbit and kept me there, willingly captive to the whirlwind he embodied.

A surge of something tender, something terrifyingly close to love, fluttered in my chest. Could it be love? Or was it just the intoxicating blend of lust and adrenaline that his world offered? I wasn’t sure, but right then, it didn’t seem to matter.

Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his in a kiss that was a soft echo of last night’s fervor. It was a whisper of thanks, a silent plea for more, for understanding—for him. Dante stirred beneath the gentle weight of my mouth, a low sound escaping him as he reached for me without opening his eyes, as if he knew exactly where I was, as if I was the compass point he’d been searching for all along.

“Jade,” he said again, and this time, his voice was clearer, edged with desire. His hand trailed up my spine, pulling me closer until there was no space for doubts or fears, only the warmth of his skin against mine.

He wrapped his arm around my waist as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Morning,” Dante murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held mine in a gaze that felt like a challenge and a promise all at once.

“Morning,” I replied, my heart thrumming as I settled into the crook of his arm. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, almost surreal. His fingers traced idle patterns along the curve of my hip, sending ripples of contentment through me.

“Last night was...” I began, but words failed me. How could I describe any of it when I had no idea how to feel about it? And now, in the soft light of dawn, with the city below us beginning to stir, everything felt different—slower, deeper, more profound.

“It was.” He didn’t finish either, but the way he looked at me said everything. There was no need for words when his touch spoke volumes.

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