Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

DANTE
She stepped out of the bathroom, hesitant, her arms folded loosely like she wasn’t sure what to do with them.
And fuck, I forgot how to breathe.
The lingerie was simple. Soft. Barely there.
But on her?
It wrecked me.
Lace hugged her curves in all the right places, and that little ribbon between her breasts might as well have been a damn invitation.
But it wasn’t the lace or the way her hips swayed when she walked toward the bed.
It was her eyes.
Wide.
Vulnerable.
Brave.
She didn’t see what I did, how fucking stunning she looked.
Not just sexy. Beautiful.
She trusted me, even though she was nervous as hell.
That trust was a responsibility I felt in my bones.
I didn’t rush.
I touched her slowly, learned her skin like a map I never wanted to stop tracing.
When I stroked between her legs and felt the way her body responded, God.
Her hips arched off the bed, her breath caught, and that needy little sound she made?
I’d never forget it.
She bloomed under my hands.
Her skin flushed pink, cheeks glowing, lips parted like she didn’t know what she needed, only that she needed me to give it.
Her eyes locked on mine as her orgasm built, and right before it hit, there was fear in them.
Wide, startled, unsure.
But she didn’t pull away.
She gave herself to me completely.
In my arms, she came undone, her body clenching around my fingers, her moan raw and unfiltered.
No holding back.
No hesitation.
Just her, exactly as she was.
There was no pretense, no shame.
Every gasp, every tremble, every ounce of pleasure.
She gave it freely.
It was real.
Honest.
Unrestrained.
And damn rare.
That kind of release?
I’d never seen anything like it.
It undid me.
I held her as she trembled, kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her mouth, anything I could reach as she came down.
Let her know she was safe.
That she was mine.
"Marisol," I said, my knuckles brushing her cheek, "are you ready for me?"
She nodded, eyes wide, voice shaking.
I kissed her like a promise, slow and soft.
I told her we'd go slow.
That she could stop me if she needed to.
When she said, I trust you, I felt it everywhere.
In my chest.
In my gut.
In the way my hands shook as I reached for the condom.
I watched her as I rolled it on.
She saw me.
Saw everything.
The size, the intent, the desire.
And she didn’t look away.
Her breath hitched.
She was scared, but brave.
So fucking brave.
I moved between her thighs, settled my hands on her hips to ground us both.
Her skin was hot against mine.
I kissed her again, softer this time.
Her body welcomed me, shy but open, and the scent of her, still sweet and salt-kissed from the ocean, filled my head.
I lined myself up, letting the tip of my cock drag over her folds, slow and deliberate.
Her body responded instantly, hips tilting up, breath shivering out of her.
I took my time.
Let her feel it.
Let myself feel her.
When I pushed forward, she arched, gasped.
Tight.
Wet.
Fucking heaven.
I eased in, inch by inch, careful not to go too fast.
Her fingers gripped my shoulders like she was hanging on for dear life.
And when I met resistance, I stilled.
That last barrier.
Hers.
A line no one had crossed before me.
My jaw locked.
Every muscle in my body strained to hold still, to not just sink into her the way I wanted.
She whimpered, her eyes glassy, chest rising in shallow, shaky breaths.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, kissing her temple. “Just breathe, baby. Let me in.”
She did.
Her body slowly gave way, and when I felt her relax, I rocked back, then pushed in again, steady and slow.
Her walls stretched around me, fighting the intrusion.
But she was ready.
I could feel it.
I gave a final, firm thrust.
She cried out.
The sound gutted me.
I stilled immediately.
Sweat beaded at my brow as I fought every instinct to move.
My entire body shook with restraint.
I kissed her face, her jaw, her cheek, whispered that I was sorry, that the pain would pass.
She trembled beneath me.
And God, she was tight.
She wrapped around me like her body didn’t want to let go.
I stayed still until I felt her breathing even out.
Until her hands relaxed.
Until I felt her hips shift, not away, but toward me.
Only then did I start to move.
Slowly.
Gently.
Her soft gasp told me the pain had eased, replaced by pleasure.
So I moved again, deeper this time, and her body welcomed me.
Her thighs locked around my waist, her breath caught in a sound that cracked something open in me.
God, she felt like heaven.
Hot.
Tight.
Every inch of her pulled me deeper.
Her hips moved with mine, hesitant at first, then building.
Finding rhythm.
Finding me.
“Oh…” she breathed, the sound soft, surprised.
Her hands gripped my arms like she needed something to anchor her.
I smiled, slow and full of heat.
“I know. I want you to feel every inch of me.”
My hips rolled, each thrust deliberate, coaxing more of those sweet sounds from her.
She was so responsive, so honest in the way she gave herself over to the moment.
No holding back.
No pretending.
Just raw need.
"You’re so tight," I groaned, my voice catching with restraint. "I can't get enough of you."
She tilted her head back, mouth open, eyes dazed with pleasure.
The fear I’d seen earlier was gone, burned away by heat and trust and the way we moved together.
I stayed patient, even when everything in me screamed to let go.
Her moans grew needier.
Her fingers dug into my back.
She arched her body beneath mine, trembling and meeting every stroke as if she was made for it.
I guided her rhythm with my hands, teaching her what felt good, what made her whimper.
We moved together, instinctively now, our bodies locked in a rhythm I never wanted to break.
She clung to me as wave after wave built inside her.
I could feel it in the way she tightened, the way her breath hitched, the way her body pulsed against mine.
“Dante, please … don’t stop.”
Her voice shattered me.
I picked up the pace, my control slipping with each roll of my hips.
I reached between us, found that swollen, sensitive place, and stroked her with my thumb.
Her cry nearly broke me.
Her whole body seized around me, clenching tight, and I felt her come undone.
She came apart beneath me, moaning my name, her body convulsing in waves.
Her nails scraped my back, her legs locked around my hips.
She was wild and beautiful and completely mine in that moment.
I didn’t hold back.
I drove into her, harder, deeper, every thrust pulling a raw sound from her throat, every squeeze of her walls dragging me closer to the edge.
My release hit like a freight train.
I buried myself deep and groaned into her neck, every muscle locking as I came hard, overwhelmed by the heat, the connection, the weight of what we’d just shared.
For a moment, we were still, our bodies tangled, sweat-slicked and breathless.
I kissed her cheek, then her lips, slow and reverent.
She looked up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, completely spent, completely at peace.
I didn’t want to move.
Didn’t want to lose the feel of her, the warmth of her wrapped around me.
Eventually, I slipped out of her, careful, and pulled her close.
She didn’t speak.
Just nestled into my chest with a soft, trusting sigh.
I brushed the hair from her face, traced my fingers along her cheekbone.
Her skin was warm, her lips still parted slightly from our kiss.
She looked wrecked in the best way.
Loved.
“You’re perfect,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
The words left me raw, exposed.
She smiled, tired but soft, and when she turned into my chest, I held her tighter.
I couldn’t let go.
Not yet.
When she whispered, Thank you, Dante... for showing me it’s possible, something cracked wide open in me.
Safe.
That’s what I’d made her feel.
I didn’t deserve that kind of trust.
Not with everything I’d come from.
But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything hurt her now.
When she drifted to sleep, soft and peaceful in my arms, I stared at the ceiling, wide awake.
I should’ve felt grounded.
Like I did the right thing.
But instead, something cracked wide open inside me.
I kept it together.
Stayed in control.
Told myself it was just physical.
Temporary.
Then she whispered thank you.
And I fucking broke.
She trusted me.
Fully.
No fear.
No armor.
She gave herself to me like she believed I’d never hurt her.
She doesn’t know what that does to me.
That kind of trust?
I’m not built to carry it.
I saw what loving someone can do.
I watched it eat a man alive.
My father never came back from it.
He gave everything to a woman who left him in pieces.
I can’t be that weak.
I won’t.
But I was holding her like she was mine.
Like I’d fight the whole damn world to keep her.
Her breath whispered against my chest, soft and steady.
My grip tightened.
I wasn’t ready to put her down.
Not now.
Not ever.
She was already under my skin.
In my blood.
And when I breathed her in, salt and heat and her, the scent of trust still clinging to my skin, every wall I built started to buckle.
This isn’t lust.
Hasn’t been for a while.
It’s deeper.
Dangerous.
Don’t name it. Don’t even think it.
Because if I let it in, there’s no going back.
And if I lose her...
It’ll fucking destroy me.
I told myself to let go.
Pull back.
Rebuild the distance.
Instead, I curled around her tighter and buried my face in her hair.
And the truth hit, cold and brutal:
I’m already hers.
And I don’t know how to come back from that.