Page 62 of Unorthodox
“Look down,” he says quietly, but his voice is commanding. He glances between us. “Look at me inside of you, baby. God, we’re fucking perfect.”
I do as he says, my hands fisting in the sheets, and I watch his thick cock driving into me, hear us as we collide together. He’s right.
It is perfect.
I know he’s about to find his own release when his thrusts become relentless, and he says, “Fuck, Addison,” and his warm release shoots inside of me.
I wrap my legs around him, clench my walls against him and he groans again, holding me closer.
When he’s spent, he lies on top of me, covering me with his entire body, still inside of me. I feel his heaving breaths against my chest, the weight of him heavy, but I don’t want him off.
Instead, I wrap my legs tighter around him, hug him close to me, riding the wave of oxytocin. I know all about that. Long nights spent searching online all the reasons I’d stopped trying to run from my father and started spreading my legs for him on command. All the reasons that I felt hollow after he walked out when he was done using me.
All the reasons I wanted him to stay.
I force those memories from my mind, not wanting my father to ruin this, too.
After a long, blissful moment, Dante pulls out of me, kissing my brow as he does, moving slowly so as not to hurt me. His hands brush against my breasts, almost possessively, and he smiles at me.
I blush, and for the first time since I’ve been here, I smile, too.
But as soon as he half pulls on his boxers, I push down my bra, running my fingers through my hair as he sits on the end of my bed, one hand on my calf, stroking my shin softly as he stares at me.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I open my mouth to tell him I’m more okay than I’ve been in a while when a cold voice cuts off my words. “This is interesting.”
A strangled cry escapes my mouth and I slap my hand over it, scrambling away from Dante, my head colliding painfully with the headboard of my bed.
Dante twists around to take in Max, standing by the doorway. He scrambles to pull up his boxers all the way just as I yank the covers up, keeping one hand over my mouth to hold in my scream, even though I’m not sure Icouldscream right now. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath, as if someone kicked me in the stomach.
“I’ve got to say, Dante, in all the years you’ve been here, this is by far the mostinterestingthing I’ve ever seen you do.”
Dante’s back is to me, and I see his shoulders tense. I press myself as far back against the headboard as I can, knees to my chest, blankets up to my chin.
Dante doesn’t say a word.
Max has his hands in his pockets and he’s leaning against the doorframe, nothing but mild amusement on his face. There are shadows under his eyes and the top two buttons of his black shirt are undone. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and I see the corded muscle beneath tense as he turns his gaze to me.
It’s the only sign that he’s at all affected by what he just walked in on. Everything else about him is cold indifference.
It makes me more nervous than if he had started yelling.
“Addison, take off that blanket.”
Dante starts to speak before I can react. “We didn’t...” he shakes his head and tries again. The fear in his voice is unnerving. “We didn’t do anything, we just—”
“Addison.”Max ignores Dante completely.
All of the boldness I felt with Dante is gone. All of the anger, the hope for a plan. The scheming. Thesatisfaction.All of it is gone when I look into Max’s cold, dead eyes.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I grip my sheets tighter, grey fabric bunched in my hand. But I know if I say anything, the words will come out all wobbly.Weak.
I don’t speak.
Max keeps staring. In a contest, he’d win every time. But I can at least give him some competition.
I hold my head up higher. Dante still hasn’t moved from the bed.
