Page 54 of Shadows of Steel
I gasp against his lips as his fingers slip beneath my panties, teasing, stroking, until I’m trembling in his grasp.
“Let me taste you.” He murmurs against my skin, his breath hot, his voice thick with desire.
“Dante, I don’t think—”
“Let me rephrase that,” he cuts me off, his tone darkening, leaving no room for protest. His grip tightens just enough to make my breath hitch. “Lay on the fucking bed, Harlow, and spread your legs for me. I’m going to bury my face between my wife’s thighs until I have you screaming my name.”
My breath catches, and instinctively, I take a step back.
He follows.
Every retreating step of mine is met with one of his, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. My heart races as I look up, the sheer size of him overwhelming. He towers over me, his eyes locked onto mine. With a firm yet gentle push to myshoulder, he guides me down until my back meets the mattress, the bed dipping beneath me as I sink into it.
His hands find my thighs, parting them, spreading me wide beneath his gaze. With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the lace of my thong, dragging it down my hips, over my thighs, letting it slip past my ankles before tossing it aside. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me, bare, exposed, completely at his mercy.
I should stop him. Tell him no. But the words never come.
Instead, he leans in, capturing my mouth in another explosive kiss that steals what little breath I have left. His lips are slow, coaxing, but there’s nothing soft about the way his hands roam, claiming me inch by inch.
Fingers slip beneath my bra, pushing the fabric aside. Then, his mouth is there, hot lips closing around my nipple, sucking, teasing with his tongue. I arch beneath him, my body betraying me as pleasure licks up my spine.
He doesn’t stop.
His kisses trail lower, down the centre of my stomach, each one branding me, marking me as his.
And then, his tongue flicks over my clit, slow at first, a teasing stroke that makes my breath hitch before he presses in harder, licking, sucking, devouring like he’s starving for it. A strangled moan rips from my throat as heat engulfs me, my body arching, desperate for more. My fingers dive into his hair, gripping the strands, tugging, but it only seems to spur him on.
The scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs is a maddening contrast, rough and abrasive against my sensitive skin, a delicious burn that only heightens the pleasure. My legs tremble, threatening to close around him, but his grip on my hips is unyielding, holding me open, keeping me right where he wants me. He eats me like he owns me, like he won’t stop until I come undone for him, and when I do, I shatter with his nameon my lips, his low, satisfied groan vibrates against me, dragging me even deeper into the abyss.
Suddenly, he pulls back just enough, his fingers wrapping around my jaw, forcing me to look at him.His expression smug and satisfied.His smirk is wicked. “Sweet as sin.”
And just like that, as if nothing had happened, he straightens. Rising to his full height, he adjusts his suit, still perfectly in place aside from his loosened tie and a few undone buttons. With one final glance, he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving me behind without another word. The door clicks shut behind him. I remain there, motionless, stunned, breathless, utterly unravelled.
A wreck of tangled sheets and trembling limbs.
I exhale sharply, forcing myself to move, to reclaim some semblance of control. Shaking my head, I storm toward the bathroom, my pulse still racing, my body still thrumming with aftershocks.
What the hell have I just gotten myself into?
Chapter 17
Harlow
Dante and I have been living like ghosts in the same house.
He’s constantly away, buried in business, just as I’ve made sure to keep myself occupied. It’s an unspoken arrangement, one neither of us acknowledges, yet both seem content to maintain.
Three days have passed since our wedding. Three days since he had his mouth on me, unravelling every fibre of my being, only to walk away as if it meant nothing. By the following morning, my belongings had been relocated to the master bedroom, merging our spaces into one.
Yet he hasn’t slept here.
Not once.
I have no idea where he disappears to at night. The thought stirs something uneasy, a flicker of jealousy I refuse to acknowledge. What if he…
I shut down the thought before it fully takes shape.
I don’t care.
