Chapter 11: A Night With The Devil.

Dante's POV

I walked toward the cell, my mind a battlefield of thoughts. My gut told me this wasn’t normal. She should have been there with a weapon in hand, ready to end me for my betrayal. A woman in the Mafia’s world didn’t summon a man she hated for tea and wine, she ended him. My stomach twisted as I recalled what I’d done. Betrayal was part of the game, sure, but this… this was different.

The guard opened the heavy iron door, and I stepped inside, halting mid-step. I froze. The cell had been transformed into a scene straight out of a movie. Candles flickered across the walls, rose petals were meticulously scattered across the floor, leading to a low, intimate table set with glasses and a decanter of red wine. Cushions were arranged on the floor, a small platter of fruit and chocolate sat beside the wine, soft music playing somewhere in the background. It looked… like a date, a perfect, impossibly intimate setup in a place designed for confinement. My jaw clenched. Was this a trap? Or was this her way? I didn’t know her rules, but I knew enough to feel uneasy.

I sank onto a cushion, scanning the shadows. Every nerve in my body screamed danger, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the spectacle. Then she appeared. Bianca.

She floated into the candlelight wearing a silk red gown that shimmered with every movement. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, clinging to her hips and waist, accentuating the swell of her chest. The slit ran high along her thigh, teasing, dangerous. Her hair was new...long, red, glossy waves that framed her face. Her lips glistened a deep, dangerous red, and the way she moved… like she owned the air around her, like she could devour me if she wanted. I swallowed hard. She was screaming danger, screaming seduction, screaming control.

She bent to pour herself a glass of wine, sipping slowly, deliberately, letting me watch every subtle motion of her body. Then again. And again. Finally, she picked up a third glass, poured it, and extended it toward me. My hand hovered, uncertain, hesitant. “Drink,” she said, a sly smile curving her lips. “Don’t behave like a coward.”

I lifted it slowly, letting the weight of her gaze press into me as we drank in silence. Then she leaned closer, eyes locked on mine.

“I hear you’re getting married tomorrow,” she murmured.

I nodded, shame creeping up my spine. She smiled, the kind that made my pulse spike and my gut twist.

“I thought… there was something between us,” she continued. “Or did you feel nothing that night?”

I swallowed hard, running a hand through my hair. “I… I had to end it. I thought you’d betray me first.”

Her lips curled knowingly. She stepped closer, brushing my chest with her hand. “You’re scared,” she whispered, “scared I should hate you. But I can’t hate a man who makes me feel… this.”

Her hands cupped my face. I tried to look away, but she forced my gaze back. My body betrayed me instantly.

“Since you’re marrying soon,” she purred, voice low and seductive, “maybe we should have one last taste.”

Before I could even respond, her hands were inside my clothes. My chest tightened. My mind went blank. The heat between us ignited. She pressed closer, grinding against me, her lips brushing my ear, her hands roaming over my body like she was claiming it.

Then she walked to the CCTV and smashed it. “No witnesses,” she whispered, voice low, teasing. “Are you free now?”

“What… what do you want?” I stammered.

“What I want isn’t the question,” she said, sliding her robe off inch by inch, letting it fall to the floor. “What do you want?”

I froze. My pulse spiked. Her skin glowed under the candlelight, curves begging my attention, nipples hard beneath the silk. I swallowed hard.

“The Dante I know,” she murmured, leaning close, “would dominate me the second he saw this.”

I wanted to look at her. I wanted to grab her, pull her close, devour her, but I couldn’t. My eyes stayed fixed on the floor as she pressed against me, massaging my shoulders, teasing my chest. The air was thick with heat, tension, and unspoken danger.

I watched her with a mixture of awe and raw desire as she slowly unbuckled my belt, her fingers brushing against me with deliberate teasing. The heat in the room thickened, and my body reacted before my mind could intervene. Every inch of me ached for her, and yet the danger in her eyes kept me tethered...drawn in but cautious, completely under her control.

Her hands were bold now, exploring, taking what they wanted, and I groaned against her lips as she pressed herself closer. My hands moved to her waist, trying to guide her, but she stopped me, placing her palm firmly on my chest. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice low, sultry, commanding. “This is my game.”

And God, I couldn’t resist. She knelt before me, lips brushing me in ways that made my head spin, every movement measured, teasing, taking me to the edge and pulling back just enough to make me burn. My grip in her hair tightened as she looked up at me, smirking, daring me to lose control. I did. I groaned, my body betraying me, every nerve ending on fire with need.

She pushed me onto the couch, and I felt the silk of her gown slide across my skin as she straddled me. Her movements were fluid, hypnotic...every sway, every press of her body against mine sending jolts of heat through me. My hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric.

Her lips found mine, and the kiss was fire and ice at once, sweet, demanding, intoxicating. I could feel her heart pounding against mine, matching my own rhythm. Her hands roamed lower, slipping under my shirt, tracing muscles, teasing, coaxing me into a haze of heat and desire. Every brush, every press made my knees weak, my breath ragged.

“Dante…” she whispered against my lips, voice low, teasing. “Tonight, it’s not about rules. It’s about what we want.”

I groaned, pulling her even closer, the sound of our breaths mingling in the tight, candlelit room. She shifted, pressing herself fully against me, and I felt the friction ignite a fire that consumed all rational thought. Her hips moved deliberately against mine, teasing, drawing out every second, every touch. I could barely think, only feel my body on fire, my mind dizzy with the heady mix of lust and tension.

When she finally lowered herself fully onto me, the connection sent a jolt straight through me. The sensation was overwhelming, and I groaned loud enough to hear it echo in the shadows. Her hands gripped my shoulders, guiding, holding, commanding, and I let myself fall into her rhythm, matching her, losing myself entirely to the intoxicating heat between us.

Every thrust, every press of her body against mine sent waves of pleasure surging through me. Her lips grazed my neck, biting lightly, drawing gasps from me, while her hands tangled in my hair, keeping me tethered to her. I could feel her tightening around me, matching my every motion, and I realized, this wasn’t just lust...it was a battle of control, dominance, and surrender, and I was entirely under her spell.

The world narrowed to the feel of her body against mine, the heat, the taste, the intoxicating scent of her. Candlelight flickered over her curves, over the red silk clinging to her, highlighting the way her body moved with a predatory grace. I groaned again, deeper this time, my chest rising and falling, every nerve ending alive with the heat of her touch.

And then, as we both neared the edge, she whispered, “Let go for me, Dante.” The command broke every last restraint I had, and I did, my body shuddering, my mind consumed entirely by her. She rode the waves of my release with a sly, wicked smile, maintaining control until the very last pulse, until I was spent, trembling beneath her.

Then she straddled me, hips grinding slowly, perfectly, driving me wild. Her lips grazed my neck, whispering my name, sending shivers through me. My hands roamed her back, gripping, needing, surrendering. She was in control, every movement deliberate, intoxicating.

“Dante,” she whispered, “remember the role?”

I nodded, breathless.

Her movements became bolder, more commanding. She guided me inside her, and the world fell away. Every friction, every gasp, every moan pulled me deeper, hotter, until I couldn’t think of anything but the fire between us.

Her rhythm was perfect, teasing, pushing me to the edge and back again. My mind spun, my body on fire, every nerve alive. I groaned her name, surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure she gave me, the control she wielded with a smile.

Finally, I let go, shuddering beneath her, lost entirely in the moment. She slowly stood, robe sliding back on effortlessly. I lifted my head, chest heaving.

“Why… why didn’t you...orgasm?” I started, but she smiled, brushing her lips to my cheek, whispering, “You weren’t worth it.”

Her words cut me deeper than any blade. No one had ever said that to me, and yet… she had never lied. Not a moan, not a sign. Pure dominance, pure Bianca.

I pulled on my belt, still shaking, still reeling. She kissed my cheek again, whispered into my ear, “Get out.”

I moved toward the door, stunned. My heart pounded. My mind raced.

Then her voice, low and teasing, called out, “Dante… you just dined with the devil. Hope you keep up with the menu.”

I froze. Panic washed over me. I didn’t know whether to run or stay. The door shut behind me, leaving me in stunned silence, every nerve alive with memory and danger.

Even as I tried to steady myself, I heard her call again, teasing, playful: “Did you… orgasm while watching the show?”

Then a sharp voice cut through from the shadows. “You should fuck off this prison immediately!” Betty. She’d been there, all along.

Bianca laughed softly, pressing her hands together, whispering, “No, baby… the deal isn’t over yet.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “What deal??”

And just like that, I realized it. Nothing was over. Not for me, not for her, not for the games we were playing. My pulse raced. My chest heaved. I had just dined with the devil, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to survive or stay.