Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 42: Chapter 42

MARISOL
I moved before I spoke. Fast. Ducking under his arm and slipping behind him in a blur.
Dante caught my wrist and yanked me close, but I saw it coming. I twisted with his momentum and broke free. In a blink, I rose onto my toes and looped my arm around his neck in a mock hold.
He grinned, eyes gleaming. “Not bad,” he said, voice a little tight.
Then he used my shift in weight against me, spinning me around and pressing me over the sofa’s armrest. His grip locked my wrists behind my back as I struggled, his grin smug.
His breath hit my ear. “Hmm, your ass looks tantalizing this way. I may take you from behind and teach you a lesson about defying your husband.”
Heat flared under my skin. I froze, breath catching as a flush rose fast.
He’s not playing fair.
Dante chuckled, voice still cocky and maddeningly close. “You’re at my mercy and in no position to demand anything.”
My jaw clenched. Anger surged, hot and immediate. “I will get my stuff back,” I snapped.
He laughed, too entertained for his own good. That was his mistake.
I hooked my leg behind his and shoved. We tumbled onto the sofa. He landed with a grunt, and before he could recover, I straddled him, hands tightening around his neck.
I leaned in close, my voice low. “You think it’s funny?”
His hands found my hips, sliding beneath my dress to cup my ass and pull me down harder. His arousal pressed into me, thick and undeniable.
I stilled. Heat pulsed between us. Every inch of my body burned from the contact, his desire matching mine. A sharp inhale pulsed through me, caught between defiance and arousal.
His grip tightened, guiding me into a slow, steady grind. My body reacted before I could think. I forgot how to breathe for a second.
“I want you. Right here. Right now.”
The words hit me, blunt and raw. Heat gathered low in my belly, moisture slickening between my thighs. His gaze locked with mine, full of promise and hunger.
How does he turn me on so fast? The anger still simmered, but my body didn’t care. I hated giving up control, but the ache building inside me was louder.
“Then take me,” I whispered.
He didn’t move. Instead, his hands slid up my back, firm and teasing. He pulled back just enough to flash a wicked smile.
“You’re in control, so show me.”
My breath caught. I hadn’t expected that. One second I was on top, the next he flipped everything with a single sentence. My heartbeat stumbled.
He must’ve seen it. His eyes danced with amusement. “You’re a badass fighter, but you're scared of undressing your husband? You’re the one straddling me. Take control.”
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
His words sparked something inside me. That same fire he always managed to light.
“I’m not scared,” I said. My voice wavered. I leaned in, trying to hide my uncertainty. “I’m savoring the moment.”
My fingers hovered at his shirt. They trembled, but I kept going, unbuttoning each clasp with growing confidence. The fabric slid from his shoulders.
My palms smoothed across his chest, over the tattoo inked into his skin.
My fingers traced the ink sprawling over his chest. The dragon's face stared back at me from his left pec, fierce and coiled like it had just woken. Its body curved along his shoulder and down his arm, black and brutal. I followed it slowly, fingertips grazing every edge like I was reading him in a language only my hands understood.
“Why a dragon?” I murmured. “Because you burn empires to the ground and eat your enemies alive?”
His smirk was slow, knowing. “You guessed right.”
I kept tracing, down the line of his collarbone, over the tense heat of his bicep.
“You don’t seem so scary to me,” I said, voice soft but certain.
He laughed, low and rough. “I eat little girls like you as a snack.”
I tilted my chin up, met his gaze without flinching. “Maybe. But not without a fight. You can devour me... but I can gut you from the inside before I go out.”
That shut him up.
His breath hitched. Eyes locked on mine, unreadable but burning. Not playful now. Not amused. Just heat.
We stared at each other, breath tangled in the stillness between us. That tension again, dark and slow and wild. The kind that didn’t ask for permission.
I pressed my lips to his chest, dragging my tongue along his tattoo. A deep groan escaped him.
Encouraged, I grazed him with my teeth. He jolted. That flicker of surprise turned hungry.
A laugh slipped from me. I was getting to him.
He stayed still, letting me explore. I moved lower, tracing the defined lines of his abs. My fingers paused at his waistband.
I looked up.
He nodded.
I unbuttoned his jeans, dragging the zipper down. The sound sliced through the quiet.
He lifted his hips. I shifted, tugging his jeans and briefs down. He helped, kicking them off.
I stood and pulled my dress over my head, letting it fall. The air kissed my bare skin, tightening every nerve ending. I slid off my underwear and climbed back onto him.
His gaze swept over me. That hungry grin returned. “You didn’t take off your bra.”
I met his eyes in a challenge. “If you want it off, take it off.”
He didn’t hesitate. His fingers slid under the lace and yanked hard. The bra tore like paper.
I gasped, stunned, the sound sharp and breathless as my breasts spilled free. The cool air teased my skin, tightening my nipples instantly.
“I liked that bra,” I breathed, voice barely steady.
His gaze didn’t even flicker. It dropped from my chest to my sex.
I reached out, brushing my fingers over the head of his cock. Heat pulsed against my hand. I wrapped my fingers around him, marveling at how they didn’t quite close.
He sucked in a breath, eyes locked with mine.
I stroked him, slow and curious. A drop of precum beaded at the tip. I swiped it with my thumb.
His gasp shot straight through me.
God, that sound…
“Place it at your entrance,” he murmured. “I don’t have a condom, so I’ll pull out. Take me in at your own pace.”
My heart pounded. I shifted my hips, guiding him against me. His bare head pressed into my heat. I hesitated. The intimacy was too real, too raw.
Slowly, I sank down, inch by thick inch. The stretch was deep. My breath hitched, body trembling. When I reached the base, a soft moan escaped.
He groaned, hands gripping my hips to guide my rhythm.
I moved slowly, savoring the fullness of him. Each thrust built the ache inside me. The pleasure grew sharper, heavier. I picked up the pace, chasing the wave that gathered. Our rhythm synced, friction sharpening everything.
His breathing deepened. Eyes closed. His fingers dug into my hips.
Then I stilled. My body, warm and ready, hovered just out of reach.
His eyes snapped open, confusion laced with heat. “Why’d you stop?”
I leaned in, dragging my lips along his jaw, my voice a soft purr. “Say you’ll give me back my things.”
A smirk curved my mouth, slow and knowing. I rolled my hips once, just enough to make him groan. Then I stilled again.
Surprise flickered across his face. For a beat, he didn’t move. Then a slow, wicked grin spread.
“You little vixen,” he murmured. “Fine. You’ll get your stuff back.”
I didn’t wait. I claimed him again, rolling my hips with purpose. His groan deepened, and the power between us tilted.
His hands tightened on my hips, voice rough in my ear. “You’re becoming a dangerous woman.”
I smiled against his skin, triumphant. “Don’t complain. I know you like it.”
He chuckled, dark and breathless. “I wasn’t.”
I picked up where we left off. The heat between us reignited, hotter now.
His groan hit low and raw. “Fuck, Marisol, I’m close. I need to pull out.”
I couldn’t stop. Not now. The pleasure was too sharp, too consuming. I chased it like oxygen, every motion faster, deeper, reckless.
His hands gripped my hips, trying to slow me, but his control was unraveling.
“I mean it,” he growled, voice ragged. “You’ve got seconds.”
But I was already there. My body clenched, release ripping through me. I cried out, everything tightening and splintering around him.
With a strangled curse, he yanked me off, muscles straining as he tossed me onto the sofa.
I landed breathless, still trembling, just in time to see his hand wrap around himself. He stroked fast, desperate, barely a heartbeat before he came with a guttural moan. Hot streams landed across my breasts and stomach.
The shock of it only deepened the pulse still echoing inside me.
We stayed there, bodies heaving, lungs dragging in air like we’d surfaced from drowning.
I lifted my gaze to his. His eyes finally met mine, softer now, blown wide. A lazy smile tugged at his mouth.
His anger flared. “You’re pushing me too far,” he snapped. “You know this is a damn mess. This... us... It’s all messed up.”
I froze.
Where is this coming from?
His anger hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t even find the words to respond. For a split second, I just lay there, my mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened.
“Sorry I ruined your life,” I spat, my voice cold, sharp with bitterness.
I stood quickly, fumbling for my clothes, the movement frantic.
“You’re the one that suggested marriage,” I shot back. My hands shook as I pulled my dress on, the fabric cold against my skin, my heart hammering in my chest.
His reaction made little sense.
He’s right, I thought. I need to get on birth control, but this… it’s like the mere idea of family breaks him. Why does it scare him so much?
I couldn’t understand why the mere thought of it made him so angry.
I could feel his gaze on me, but I couldn’t look at him. The words he’d just said and the way he’d said them were like a slap. The sense of security I’d just begun to feel crumbled, and the rage bubbling inside me felt like the only thing holding me together.
When I was dressed, I took a deep breath and finally turned to face him. The space between us felt so wide, and I couldn’t stand the feeling of his anger lingering in the air on me.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, my voice icy and biting. “I can’t stand the stench of you on me.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t wait. Without a word, I grabbed the door and walked out, leaving him behind.