Fractured Freedom(56)

My mind took me to that typical scene in a James Bond movie. I was the girl who was going to help our country’s spy survive.

I swung open the door, practically crying out, “Dante, are you o—”

As my eyes whipped to the shower stall, my question died on my lips. I saw a white towel stained pink and red and a needle that was definitely intended to sew something shut. I was a nurse. I knew medical grade materials when I saw them.

None of it mattered when my eyes found Dante, though. I stared at the god of a man in the shower. One muscular arm was braced against the tile, tattoos wrapping around it and mingling with the large veins on his skin. I knew his gaze was on me, but he didn’t move or attempt to hide himself.

Instead, he stood there in all his glory, muscles taut as he held his huge rock-solid cock in his fisted hand.

The tip glinted under the light, and my eyes bulged when I saw dark metal glistening from beneath water droplets. Visible on either side of the tip of his cock were three balls of steel. They looked just big enough to rub the walls of my pussy exactly the way I’d want.

Those hadn’t been there years ago.

I couldn’t look away. I mean, I told myself to. I willed myself to back out of that bathroom, but my mind short-circuited as I stared at him. Every part of him was better than I remembered, better than what I’d dreamed about for over half a decade.

That cock—how the head swelled in his hand, how it looked as solid and hard as the metal pierced through it—it was the same but different. Familiar and brand new.

My whole body shivered as I tried to form an apology and pull my gaze from what I knew was the best dick I’d ever had with added tools. “I heard a crash … I thought you were hurt. I’m so sorry for barging in.” I started to back away, but his stare pinned me where I stood.

“Lilah, if you’re going to apologize, might be a good idea to take your eyes off my cock.”

I nodded without really listening because I was still staring, but the words registered, and my gaze snapped up fast. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … well …”

“Lamb, I’m in the middle of something here. You going to join in or say what you need to say and leave?”

“You weren’t pierced before,” I blurted. Why I had to make that announcement, I didn't know.

“And?”

“Well, I … I didn’t expect that.”

He smirked and turned the shower off, keeping one hand on his cock. “You expected something from my dick, Lamb?”

I shook my head and felt the blush rise to my cheeks. “No. Of course not. But I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It must have hurt. Why do it?”

“I like to perfect what I do, Lilah.” He stepped out of the shower and moved toward me. “That includes fucking women.”

I gulped at his words and how he said them while he slowly pumped his length once. I focused only on his face then, not taking time to scan his body at all.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought I heard a bang and that you might be hurt. I’ll go.”

I was almost out the door when I heard his voice come low and feral. “You walk out that door now, I’m going to have to chase you, Lamb. And I will catch you.”

“What?”

“Sit your ass on that counter and watch like you want to.”

Maybe it was a dream I could wake up from. I knew I would die of embarrassment later. But it would be much later. Because right now, instead of hightailing it out of there to lick my embarrassed wounds, my body listened.

I bit my lip and did just what he said, keeping my eyes on him while I pushed myself up onto the counter. I’d always done what I was told, so he had that advantage over me right then and there. Dante was the wolf. I was the lamb.

He was the predator; I was the prey. I wanted to submit to him, and he knew it.

Or maybe I knew that Dante and I were going to combust one way or the other, that we could run as fast as we wanted in opposite directions for years and still find ourselves face to face someday.

My breath hitched as he moved between my thighs. It was then my gaze skittered up and down his body again, taking in bumps and bruises with all of his tattoos. I zeroed in on a gash near his collarbone, naked with beads of water sliding down into the blood.

“Jesus, you’re hurt,” I murmured. “You need stitches or glue for that, Dante.”

“I know. Just give me a minute.” He leaned in to smell my neck, and then his forehead dropped to it as he whispered, “After nights at work, I have to get rid of the adrenaline.”

I nodded, not sure what to say but my hands made their own way to his back where I rubbed softly, trying to soothe him.

“You being here … it’s messing with my head. I tortured a man tonight and came back to you asleep in my bed. You. The most innocent thing in my damn world, and I needed a damn release,” he whispered.

It was Dante’s turn to confess his demons, and I’d known they’d been lurking. They had to be. He was too perfect, too charming, too put together to not have something clawing at him to get out.

“It’s okay,” I told him as I massaged him.

He hummed at the pressure from my fingers and stroked his cock right next to my pussy. It was wrong that I rolled my hips on the counter, that one of his hands went into my panties and tested how wet I was for him already.