Page 33 of Ivory Legacy

“That’s it, Jade,” I murmured into her ear, my words raspy as the animalistic urge to claim her fully washed over me. “Come for me. I want to feel you.”

Her body tightened around me, trembling as her knees gave out and she collapsed onto the bed. I followed her down, burying my face in her hair as she let out a guttural cry of release. Her body convulsed around my cock and my hand, fluid gushing over my fingers and soaking the sheets beneath us. Her tight channel gripped me so hard that I barely had time to pull out before I was spilling over her ass and lower back in thick, hot spurts.

“Fuck,” I growled into her ear as the last waves of my climax rolled through me. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought to draw breath, while Jade whimpered softly beneath me, her body still twitching with aftershocks of her own orgasm.

I slapped her pussy softly, quickly—just hard enough to make her squirm.

“You like that?” I murmured, my lips brushing against her ear as she shivered under my touch.

Jade responded with a barely audible gasp, her body instinctively arching back into me.

With a satisfied growl, I reached for a nearby cloth and gently cleaned the mess from our bodies. The scent of sweat and sex filled the room, mingling with the faint traces of her perfume.

“See?” she asked. “I knew it would be better if you stayed.”

And suddenly, everything felt like it was about to break.

Again.

Chapter Sixteen: Jade

Sunlight warmed my face, pulling me from sleep. I stretched, feeling the soft sheets and the weight of Dante’s arm around my waist. He lay beside me, his chiseled features relaxed in slumber. I watched him for a moment, remembering the intensity of last night, the way he had kissed me as if it were the last time. My chest tightened with a mix of joy and fear.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

Dante mumbled something incoherent, shifting slightly but not waking. I slipped out of bed, the cold floor a sharp contrast to the warmth of the blankets.

In the bathroom, I examined myself in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, my skin flushed. I traced a finger over my lips, still swollen from his kisses, and sighed. Turning on the shower, I let the steam fill the room and stepped under the hot water, washing away the remnants of our passion.

Panic surged through me as my eyes scanned the empty bedroom. “Dante?” I called out, my voice echoing off the walls. No response. My mind filled with a thousand grim scenarios, and I rushed to the kitchen, then the living room — but he was nowhere to be found. I sank onto the couch, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a tank top and shorts. My hand rested briefly on my stomach, a silent promise to protect the small life growing inside me. The absence of Dante’s confident smirk and comforting presence made the room feel cavernous and empty.

Anger started to replace my anxiety. Had he really just taken what he wanted and left? I glanced at the clock; it was still early. Too early for him to be handling any family business, I reasoned.

I walked back to the bedroom and sat, then stood, then paced. My hands went to my belly, and I rubbed it out of habit, out of worry. What was I going to do if he just disappeared? If he left me here alone to—well, no. Maybe that was just what I wanted.

The sound of the door unlocking froze me in place. I turned to see Dante walk in, a paper bag in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. He paused, taking in my expression, and a small, almost imperceptible frown tugged at his lips.

“Thought you’d be happy to see breakfast,” he said, closing the door with his foot.

I didn’t move. “You left.”

“I went to the deli. It’s a block away but everyone had the same idea.” He walked over and set the food on the small dining table near the kitchenette. “Didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”

Relief washed over me, mixed with the lingering heat of my earlier anger. I walked to him slowly, unsure how to balance the emotions swirling inside me.

He took out two croissants and a container of fruit, then handed me a coffee. “It’s decaf,” he said, almost apologetically.

I took it, my fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”

We stood there in an awkward silence, the kind that comes after a near-miss of something explosive. I sipped the coffee, letting the warm steam soothe me.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said finally.

I looked up at him, at those dark eyes that held so many secrets. “I thought—“

“I know what you thought.” He interrupted, but not harshly. “I’m not that guy, Jade.”

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