Page 9 of Beautiful Beasts

I had never had someone want to wash me before, but he wanted to, and I knew from the look in his eyes that I was not going to win that battle. So I gave in, not because I was scared of him but because I saw in his eyes that he needed to be the one to wash away the evidence left behind by Griffin.

I have to say pissing him off makes me happy, knowing that I affect him the same way he affects me. We both drive each other crazy. It is just what we do, I guess.

His voice, though, his dark warning voice, makes my stomach flutter in anticipation. I know I shouldn’t push him; he is just trying to help me. I know that, but I am not some victim that he needs to wash, feed, and take care of. My entire life, I have taken care of myself and have dealt with what my father has done to me on my own. Dante wants me to let him in, and I can see his eyes pleading with me through the anger that seems to come out first.

He confuses me. He has never acted this way towards me like he has over the past few days. He has never touched me, kissed me, pinned me, or spoken so fucking softly it makes my heart ache with need for him before.

I have a feeling that things will never be the same for me now. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I do know that the life I was living is now no more.

I slowly turn over on my side and come face to face with Dante. His muscular chest is covered in tattoos from his neck down. So many tattoos, I wonder what they all mean? There’s a part of me that wants to trace every line with my tongue as I explore the art that decorates his hard body.

I take in his facial features as I try to commit them to memory. His left eyebrow is pierced, his eyelashes are long and dark, and his sharp jaw has that sexy five o’clock shadow. His body is stacked, and his muscles have muscles. Fuck he is beautiful. His dark black hair has fallen slightly into his face.

My heart starts to race as I lift my hand and gently brush the side of his face with the back of my hand. His eyes shoot open, and at the same time, he grabs my wrist tightly with his hand. I ball my hand into a fist as I hold my breath. His eyes rapidly search mine for a moment.

“Careful, Sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he holds my wrist in place.

His breathing increases as his eyes never leave mine. “I am not good for you, Bella,” he warns.

He is telling the truth. He is not good for me, but I am also not good for him either. We both have a darkness inside us that is the same. I wanted to stay away from him. I tried, but fucking failed. He is like a fire that pulls me in from the cold, and all I want to do is get fucking burned by him.

“I know.” He doesn’t respond, but I don’t want to give him time to either. “But I don’t care,” I confess.

He tightens his grip on my wrist and pulls me to him. I don’t fight him. I have a feeling I will let this man do anything he wants to do to me.

He leans in, his lips almost touching mine. “You have no idea, Bella, what you are getting yourself into.”

“Neither do you.” A small smile forms across his lips as I lean in and connect my lips to his.

After everything my father has done to me and everything he has allowed other men to do to me, I should run from Dante; I should be more guarded than I am. But Dante, his soul, his heart speaks to me. I feel safe with him because of who and what he is. I am not stupid. He is dangerous as fuck and has probably been with hundreds of women in his life, but I don’t care.

I want him, I desire him, and for the first time in my life, I am the one that gets to choose who I fuck and who fucks me, and I choose Dante. I want to feel his lips against mine, his tongue dancing with mine. I want to feel his hands on my body, his cock in my pussy. I want to hear him moan my name, and I want to scream his.

I am fucked up, I know, but again I don’t fucking care.

I open my mouth and feel his tongue sweep against mine. We both moan into each other’s mouths as he pulls me on top of him. I let him and allow my body to do and feel what feels natural in this moment.

I am on top of this powerful man, the King of our city, and I can feel him harden underneath me through his sweatpants.

At this moment, I am glad that I am already naked. He releases my wrists, and I immediately grab his hands and pull them over his head, firmly pushing them against the bed. I circle my hips as I rub my clit against his hard bulge, the friction making my pussy wet and flutter. I pull back, breaking the kiss. His eyes are locked with mine as I continue to grind against him. I see nothing but pure fucking desire and need in his eyes. He intertwines our fingers as his breathing increases.

“You are mine, Bella.”

“I am yours,” I say without needing to think.

“Careful, Sweetheart,” he warns.

I stop on top of him and look deeply into his eyes. I lean back in and stop when my lips almost touch his. “I need you, Dante,” I confess.

I need him to need me.

I need him to take control so I can gain my control back.

I need him to burn me in the only way that he can.

7

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