Page 7 of Claimed By the Don

"No?" he murmurs, letting his fingers brush over my clothed sex in a barely-there caress that has me seeing stars. "There's a dark little alcove behind the kitchen that would be perfect for what I want to do to you." He leans in, his eyes black with promise. "I could have you coming on my fingers before the first course is served."

A whimper escapes my throat at the brazen suggestion, my hips tilting unconsciously into his touch. What is he doing to me? I feel feverish, desperate. Like I might die if I don't feel more of his hands on me.

Just then, the waiter appears with menus and a basket of breadsticks, startling me back to reality. I hastily scoot away from Dante's tempting fingers and grab a roll to busy my hands.

Throughout lunch, Dante keeps up a string of lascivious comments and innuendos that have me squirming in my seat. He makes eating mussels look positively indecent, his tongue swirling over the fork in blatant mimicry of other, dirtier things. By the time we've settled the bill - or rather, Dante has, waving off my offer to split it - I'm a quivering mess of need.

"Let me walk you home," Dante suggests as we step out into the balmy afternoon, his hand settling into the small of my back. I know I should refuse, put some much-needed distance between us before I do something reckless. But I find myself nodding mutely, letting him tuck me into his side as we stroll down the block.

We walk in charged silence for a few moments before Dante guides me smoothly into a narrow alley between two brownstones. I barely have time to gasp before he's crowding me up against the warm brick, his big body blotting out the rest of the world.

"I've been dying to do this all day," he rasps, lowering his head to mine. Then his mouth is on me, hot and urgent, tongue delving past my lips to claim me in a soul-searing kiss. I moan helplessly, my hands fisting in his hair as he consumes me.

He tastes like the rich coffee he had with dessert, dark and decadent. I feel drunk on the flavor of him, my head spinning with heady want. Dante's hands are everywhere, skimming over my waist, my ribs, the sides of my aching breasts. I arch into him shamelessly, too far gone to care that we're technically in public. Let all of New York see how badly I crave this man.

"You taste like heaven," Dante groans into my mouth, nipping at my bee-stung lips. "I could kiss you for hours, tesoro. Eat you out until you scream." He runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, delving inside again when I gasp.

I've never been kissed like this before, like he's trying to crawl inside me. Like he wants to brand himself on my very soul. It's overwhelming and perfect and I never want it to stop.

But of course, it must. A slamming car door startles us out of our passionate haze and Dante reluctantly drags his mouth from mine, breathing hard. I blink up at him, dazed and disheveled, lips tingling. His eyes are molten obsidian, his hair mussed from my eager fingers.

"Christ, the things you do to me," he says roughly, resting his forehead against mine. "I'm trying to be patient here, Ginetta. Let you set the pace. But you're killing me with wanting you."

My heart clenches at the raw need in his voice. I'm right there with him, my body crying out for his. But that small, sane part of me knows I'm not ready to fall into bed with Dante. Not yet. Soon, God yes... but not tonight.

So I force myself to take a shaky step back, putting some much-needed distance between our straining bodies. "I'm not trying to be a tease," I tell him, my voice husky. "I want you too, Dante. So much. But..."

"But you need more time," he finishes, a wry smile touching his lips. He tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my overheated skin. "I get it, tesoro. I'll try to keep my hands to myself... for now."

The unspoken "but not for long" hangs between us, a dark promise. A shiver rolls through me even as I nod.

Dante sees me the rest of the way home without incident, dropping a chaste kiss on my cheek at my stoop. But the memory of our encounter in the alley haunts me for the rest of the night.

As soon as I'm alone in my bedroom, I strip naked and fall back onto my bed, my skin fevered and over-sensitive. Dante's scent clings to me, intoxicating. With a groan, I let my hands roam my body, cupping my heavy breasts, rolling the tight peaks until pleasure spirals through me.

I see his face above me, feel his phantom touch mapping my curves. Hear the gravelly timbre of his voice - "I'm going to take you apart, piece by piece..." I writhe on the sheets, one hand delving between my thighs to find my swollen, aching flesh. At the first touch of my fingers against my clit, I moan brokenly.

So wet. I'm so wet for him already and he's not even here. With my free hand, I plunge two fingers inside, picturing Dante's thick digits stretching me wide. Filling me up. My back arches as I work myself with fast, needy strokes, grinding my clit against my palm.

Dante's dark eyes boring into mine as he brings me closer to the edge. The wicked promise of his sinful mouth on my breast, my neck, my throbbing sex. It's too much, too good. With a keening cry, I shatter, my inner muscles clamping down on my fingers in a vicious paroxysm of bliss.

I collapse back onto the tangled sheets, momentarily sated. But I know my body won't be content with my own touch for long. Not now that I've had a taste of Dante's passion, his consuming hunger. He's ruined me for my own hands... and I have a feeling he's going to ruin me for all other men too.

A soft knock on my bedroom door startles me out of my Dante-induced haze. Shit, I forgot Natalie was coming over tonight. I hastily wipe my fingers on the sheets and grab my silk robe, trying to slow my galloping heart.

"Come in," I call, hoping I don't look as thoroughly worked over as I feel.

No such luck. As soon as Nat pokes her head in, her eyes go wide, a knowing grin stretching her lips.

"Well, well, well," she drawls, stepping into the room and shutting the door with a snap. "Looks like someone was having a very naughty private moment. A certain tall, dark and fuckable Italian wouldn't happen to be the star of your fantasies now, would he?"

I blush crimson, but there's no point in denying it. Natalie knows me too well. "Dante is..." I struggle for the right words. "He's intense. Overwhelming. Being with him is like standing too close to an inferno."

Natalie waggles her eyebrows. "Sounds like my kind of man. So when are you going to let him douse your fire? Put out the flames?"

I groan and flop back on my bed. "I want to, Nat. God, do I want to. You have no idea how badly. But..." I gnaw my lip, trying to find the right words. "I'm afraid of losing myself in him. In this...pull I feel whenever he's around. What if he consumes me and there's nothing left?"

Natalie sighs and settles next to me, taking my hand in hers. Her expression gentles, turning serious and fond. "Oh, honey. The best kind of love is all-consuming. That's how you know it's real." She gives my fingers a squeeze. "I know it's scary, opening yourself up to that kind of intensity. But babe... what if it's worth it? What if Dante is your once in a lifetime?"

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