Page 24 of Until It Ends

"Yeah? You like that?"

"Mmhmm," I moan, squeezing his cock with my pussy. "I love it when it's deep in me."

"I want you to come with me, baby," he growls, pumping into me, faster and faster.

"Yes...yes," I cry out, and he grips my ass, pressing me against him. "I'm so close."

"Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock."

"Yes, yes, yes..." I breathe, and he pumps into me, fast and hard.

"Oh, yes. Yes, yes!" I cry out as he swirls his hips, grinding against me.

"Fuck, you feel so damn good," he groans, and I come harder than I ever have.

"Come for me. Come with me, Valeria," he groans, and I come harder than I ever have.

"Oh, God," I cry out, and he slams into me, once, twice, three times before his body goes rigid and I feel hot jets of cum shoot deep into me.

"Yes, yes," he grunts, and I feel my pussy clench tight on his cock as my orgasm rolls through my body.

"That's it, baby," he growls, and I feel my pussy clench tight around his cock.

"Fuck," he curses, and I feel the hot jets of cum shoot deep inside.

He kisses my lips when it's all over and I slide down his torso until my feet touch the ground. My legs are wobbly and he holds me steady.

"How long will you make me wait for you?" he asks.

I blush. "I...Dante...you know our family's history. Your father doesn't even like me so—"

"I don't give a fuck about anybody else. Just us. I'll give it all up just for you. All you have to do is say the words," he whispers.

My fingers tremble as I bring my hand up to his stubbled face and caress his cheek. "I can't ask you to leave everything behind just for me," I say.

"Val—" he tries, but the fear of what I might let myself respond with keeps me from hearing anything else he has to say. I spin on my heel and run out of the dark room, heart pounding in my ears.

As I make my way through the hallway, a guard comes into view slumped against the wall of a coat closet. He must be the one who followed me earlier. I don't bother to slow down or check if he's okay, instead rushing past him and back out into the ballroom where I steady my breathing before rejoining Polo, whose warm smile lights up when he sees that I've returned.

Twenty-Two

Dante

Istand at the threshold of my father's master bedroom, my heart heavy with a mixture of indifference and concern. It has been days since I last saw him, preoccupied as I am with my own business affairs. I know that nurses, doctors, and trusted advisors have been coming in and out of the room, attending to his needs, but I haven't paid much attention. Now, as I step into the room, a sense of shock washes over me.

My father sits by the window, confined to a wheelchair. It is a stark contrast to the image of my father I hold in my mind – a powerful figure, always striding with authority, his cane serving as a symbol of his dominance. Seeing him in this weakened state stirs conflicting emotions within me. While I feel a pang of sympathy for his plight, the distance between us remains intact.

I dismiss the maid who has just served my father breakfast, wanting a moment alone with him. As I approach, I take in the frailty etched on his face, the lines of worry and frustration carving deeper grooves. The air in the room feels heavy with unspoken words, waiting to be unleashed.

Our eyes meet, and I sense a mix of resignation and determination in his gaze. It is a strange combination, one that only adds to my ambivalence. But despite our complicated relationship, he is still my father, and I cannot completely shut off my empathy.

"I didn't expect to see you in this state," I speak, my voice laced with a detached coolness. "What happened?"

He lets out a weary sigh, his gaze turning distant. "Leaving rehabilitation earlier than advised was a mistake," he admits, his voice tinged with regret. "The consequences have been more severe than anticipated. It seems I may spend the rest of my days in this wheelchair."

I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for my lack of concern, for being so consumed by my own ambitions that I haven't spared a thought for my father's well-being. Yet, even in his weakened state, he seeks to retain control, probing into my recent activities.

"Did you attend the event?" he inquires, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "Did you see her? Have you made any attempts to rectify the situation?"

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