Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

MARISOL
I stood in front of the mirror, fingers gliding over the delicate straps of my silk camisole.
The fabric whispered against my skin, the matching shorts brushing softly against my thighs. The set caught the dim light, hugging my curves.
My hair tumbled over my shoulders, framing my face in a way that didn’t feel quite like mine.
I let out a sigh, the weight of tonight pressing hard against my chest.
I missed the quiet safety of his presence.
His eyes used to see me. His whispers made me feel like I mattered.
When had he stopped holding me close?
Now, Dante only slipped into bed once I was asleep.
Tonight, I had dressed for him, clinging to something that felt like hope, desperate to reclaim what we’d lost.
I ached for his touch, for that connection we used to share.
I always knew why he married me. It wasn’t love. It was protection.
He told me that, in his way, and I agreed because I needed it.
I was tired of running. We both had reasons.
But somewhere along the way, I started to feel something real.
And when I told him I loved him... he disappeared.
Not physically. He was still here, still showing up. But not for me. Not like before.
He avoided my eyes. Spoke less. Touched me like it cost him something.
It wasn’t rejection at first. It was fear, maybe.
But now... this? This was something else.
This was intentional.
Tonight, he wasn’t just distant. He was cruel.
As if punishing me for loving him.
And for the first time, he didn’t seem to care that I noticed.
Another sigh left me as I reached for the lamp, ready to stop waiting.
It was late, and the sting of disappointment had settled in deep.
But just as my fingers brushed the switch, the door creaked open.
MARISOL
Dante stepped inside, his presence charging the room like a storm on the horizon.
His gaze locked on me, something soft flickering for a moment before hardening into a colder, hungrier intensity.
My heartbeat stumbled.
That look wasn’t him.
The warmth I craved was gone, replaced with a hunger that made my breath catch, my feet rooted in place.
I don’t know whether to run or reach for him.
He stood there, a silhouette carved in tension, his jaw clenched, eyes raking over my body.
The silk clung to me, almost taunting him.
I met his stare, letting the invitation show, but inside, a hollow uncertainty bloomed.
My pulse pounded in my throat. I felt the heat in his stare, scorching with hunger.
But there was something else in his eyes, something that chilled me.
Where did he go?
Is he even here with me, or has he already left?
This man, this version of him, felt like a stranger.
That assessing gaze sent a tremor through me.
He crossed the room without a word and gripped my waist, his fingers digging in with a possessiveness that stole my breath.
His lips crashed against mine, rough and unyielding.
Gone was the tenderness.
This was different. Hard. Urgent. Brutal.
I gasped, not in protest but in shock, heat flaring despite the roughness.
Still, something felt off.
His touch, once my anchor, felt unfamiliar. Darker. Colder.
I needed him, but this wasn’t what I longed for.
Where is the man who used to touch me like I was fragile and precious?
Now I couldn’t tell if I should melt or recoil.
He undressed with practiced speed, no hesitation in the way his hands moved over me.
It didn’t feel like passion. It felt like a task.
His grip tightened around my hips as he spun me toward the bed, stealing the breath from my lungs.
The silk slid off my body, its softness almost cruel against the rough way he handled me.
Then he thrust into me, hard and fast, without pause.
I cried out, the suddenness splitting me open.
My mind spun, trying to reconcile the man I loved with what was happening.
I remembered the way he used to touch me, gently and with quiet devotion.
Now he feels like a blade, cutting through the intimacy we once trusted.
I wanted to ask him to stop, to slow down, to look at me.
But the words caught in my throat, strangled by confusion and need.
My body betrayed me.
Even in the wrongness, desire curled inside me, flaring under each thrust.
Pain and pleasure tangled.
I arched into him, caught in the chaos of it all.
A moan escaped me, raw and torn.
The more he moved, the deeper I fell into something that didn’t feel like love.
“Yes,” I whispered, a breathless surrender to the overwhelming sensations.
But even as the word left my lips, doubt crept in.
This isn’t what I want. Not like this.
I wanted more. I needed the tenderness he no longer offered.
His pace only grew more brutal.
Each thrust drove the air from my lungs.
His grip bruised, pinning me to the bed as our bodies collided in a rhythm that was anything but loving.
He didn’t speak.
No whispered reassurances. No affection.
Just need, unfiltered and raw.
“Touch yourself if you want to cum,” he growled, voice tight with restraint.
My hand trembled as I reached down, trying to keep pace with the unrelenting rhythm.
Every thrust sent another jolt through me, blurring the edges of pleasure until they bled into pain.
My cries filled the room, sharp and aching.
His words echoed inside me, hollow and cruel.
This isn’t love. This is taking. This is using.
My body tightened.
The climax hit with a force that left me gasping, trembling.
But he didn’t stop.
He kept going, pushing me past the edge.
Pleasure turned into something unbearable.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
And still, he kept going.
He finally pulled out, finishing in silence.
His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, but he said nothing.
I didn’t move.
My skin burned where he touched me.
Truth settled like a stone, cracking through my ribs.
I was nothing more than a body to him tonight. A means to an end.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes.
Why didn’t I stop him?
Why did I let this happen?
I whispered his name, barely audible.
“Dante.”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t answer. Just left.
The soft click of the door closed the chapter with a finality that gutted me.
I lay frozen, eyes fixed on the empty doorway.
Slowly, I curled into myself.
The cool sheets grazed my skin, highlighting the heat he left behind.
My body throbbed, but it was the emptiness inside me that hurt worse.
Tears slipped free.
He hadn’t come to bridge the distance between us. He’d carved it deeper.
I felt stripped bare in every way. Exposed. Used.
How did he go from holding me like I was everything to leaving me like I was nothing?
My fingers twisted in the sheets as dawn painted the room in pale strokes of light.
In the quiet, the truth settled deep.
I had lost him.
Maybe I never really had him at all.
Exhaustion settled into my bones as the truth lodged deep.
A flicker of resolve.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
Couldn’t keep waiting for a version of him that might never return.
Even as my heart shattered, I knew what I had to do.
I still love him. God, I do.
But what he did tonight wasn’t love.
It wasn’t okay.
If there’s any hope left for us, he has to know that.
I won’t lose myself to keep him.