Page 20 of In His Name

“Fuck it,” I groan as I pull her astride me. “I can’t wait another minute to be inside you.”

Her eyes widen—fear and desire mingling in those emerald depths. Just how I like it.

"Dante, we can't—" she protests, but her body betrays her. She's already grinding against me, her soft curves melting into my hard planes.

"We can. We will." My voice is gravel, rough with need.

I cup her face, forcing her to look at me as my other hand slides beneath her dress. The silk of her panties is already damp. Mine. All fucking mine.

"Tell me you want this," I command, though it doesn't matter what she says. I've waited too long, planned too carefully to let her slip away now.

She trembles against me, conflict written across her beautiful face. The angel on her shoulder fighting a losing battle with the devil in her blood. The devil I awoke.

"I... I shouldn't,"

she whispers, but her hands are already working at my belt, desperate little movements that make me harder than stone.

I laugh darkly against her throat. "Shouldn't isn't the same as don't want to, princess."

The driver keeps his eyes forward, well-trained enough to know what happens to men who look at what's mine. The privacy partition rises silently as I tear the lace from her body.

"You've been running from this—from us—for too long," I murmur against her ear, letting my teeth graze the sensitive lobe. "No more running."

She moans as my fingers find her slick heat, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Her head falls back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. A sacrifice laid bare.

"I've dreamed of this," I tell her, my voice low and dangerous as I slide one finger inside her tight warmth. "Every night since you walked into that gallery. Every fucking night."

"Dante," she breathes my name like a prayer, like salvation, even as she damns herself by rocking against my hand.

The car slides through the night, the gentle motion adding to our rhythm as I add another finger, stretching her, preparing her. She's so tight, so perfect. A treasure I've hunted relentlessly.

"You were always going to be mine," I whisper against her flushed skin.

Her eyes flash open, that defiance I adore sparking through the haze of lust.

She looks like she’s going to argue, but I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her protests. My free hand tangles in her hair, holding her in place as I devour her. When I finally release her, she's panting, her lips swollen.

"Tell me to stop," I challenge, knowing she won't. Can't. The web I've woven around her is too tight, the bonds invisible but unbreakable.

Instead of answering, she reaches between us, freeing my cock with trembling fingers. The cool air hits my heated flesh for only a moment before she positions herself above me.

I grip her hips hard enough to bruise, helping her take every inch. "Fuck, baby, yes. Slide down on me just like that."

My control snaps as her wet heat envelops me completely. I've orchestrated every moment leading to this, manipulated every circumstance, eliminated every obstacle. And now, watching her come undone in my arms, I know it was worth every calculated move.

"Take me," I growl as I begin to move within her, setting a punishing pace that has her clinging to my shoulders, "Take every inch of me.”

She shatters around me, her inner walls clenching like a vise as she cries out my name. The sound echoes in the confined space of the car, a symphony I've composed note by excruciating note.

I don't slow my pace. Not yet.

"That's one," I murmur against her throat, where her pulse hammers wildly beneath my lips. "I want at least three before we're done."

Her eyes—those damnable green eyes that have haunted me since I first saw them—flutter open. Confusion mingles with the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her body.

"I can't—" she begins, but I shift my angle, hitting that sweet spot inside her that makes her words dissolve into a moan.

"You can," I tell her, my voice brooking no argument. "And you will."

---