Page 40 of Impure Vows

I can’t think about anything other than how big he is and how good he feels. The overwhelming sensation, the way he fills me completely, makes my mind foggy with pleasure and confusion.

“I... I’m not yours,” I manage to gasp around his fingers, though the words sound weak even to my own ears.

Dante’s thrusts grow more intense, his grip on my hip bruising. “You will be,” he growls. “You’re so close to saying it, aren’t you?”

I want to deny it, but I can’t. The way my body responds to him, the way I arch into his touch, betrays me. His rhythm falters for a moment, and I brace myself, expecting more.Instead, he pulls out roughly, making me gasp at the sudden emptiness.

“Why... why did you stop?” I hate how desperate I sound, but the need in my voice is undeniable.

Dante leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Because I want you to beg for it.”

I turn my head to look at him, defiance warring with desire in my eyes. “I won’t.”

He smirks, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. “We’ll see about that.” He steps back, leaving me trembling on the bed, exposed and aching.

I push myself up on shaky arms, glaring at him. “You're an asshole.”

“And you’re a liar,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “You want this. You want me.”

I pull the sheet around myself, trying to shield myself from his piercing gaze. “You’re fucking delusional.”

Dante chuckles, a low, dangerous sound. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m determined. There’s a difference.”

Dante climbs over me, his eyes dark with intent. I tremble beneath him as he teases my entrance with his cock, barely grazing me. The anticipation is unbearable, and my hips chase his in a desperate attempt to feel more.

“Beg,” he orders, his voice a low growl.

I let out a whimper, caught between frustrated defeat and desire. "Please.”

“Please what?” he taunts, thrusting just enough to make me ache for more.

“Please, sir,” I whine, my voice cracking with desperation.

His hand strikes my face, the sharp sting making me cry out. Before I can react, he swallows every sound with a fierce kiss and shoves into me, filling me completely. The sudden intrusion steals my breath, and I gasp against his lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, his thrusts hard and rough. He grabs my throat, his grip firm and possessive as he slams into me, each movement bruising and relentless.

My mind spirals, torn between the pain and the twisted pleasure coursing through me. He tightens his grip on my throat and thrusts harder, his eyes locked onto mine. My body arches into him. The intensity of his movements leaves me breathless, my body straining against his. Every thrust sends a wave of sensation through me, pain and pleasure blurring together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

I can’t hold back the moans that escape my lips, each one a testament to his control over me. My nails dig into his back, desperate for something to anchor myself to. The sensations overwhelm me, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. “Dante, I?—”

He cuts me off with another bruising kiss, his tongue claiming mine as his cock drives me closer to the edge. “Come for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl.

I can’t resist, my body giving in to the intense pleasure. The orgasm rips through me, leaving me trembling and breathless beneath him. He follows soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he finds his own release.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths.

Dante tucks me against him, his body a solid wall of heat. Neither of us says anything. The silence wraps around us like a shroud, but my mind is anything but quiet. Shame rises within me, a wave of self-loathing crashing over the remnants of pleasure. How could I enjoy any of that?

Dante’s hand moves, tracing lazy circles on my back. I focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest, trying to match my breathing to his. The rhythm is soothing, a small anchor in the storm of my emotions.

As my eyes grow heavy, I cling to the last shred of defiance within me. I may be trapped in his world, but I won’t let him break me. Not completely. The thought is a small spark of hope in the darkness, and I hold onto it as sleep finally takes me.

21

DANTE

Aliyah steps out of the bathroom, her slender frame wrapped in the silk dress I picked out for her. The emerald fabric clings to her curves, accentuating her natural beauty. My jaw tightens, a surge of possessiveness coursing through me. She looks stunning, breathtaking even. And I hate it.

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