Chapter 5 – Caught in the act

Iris Pov

“Ms. Rossi, a word?” A reporter’s voice cut through the hum of the event, camera flashes stabbing at her eyes. They’d just ended yet another social event.

Iris shifted her weight, adjusting the silk of her deep green gown and pinching the strap that threatened to slip. She forced a polite smile, “Not right now, thank you.”

Dante stood nearby, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, black tie perfectly knotted, and a faint wrinkle of a frown forming between his brows as he greeted another guest.

Something about tonight felt off. Maybe it was the press, or maybe it was because Dante had been distracted ever since they got to the party.  She shook off the feeling, muttering under her breath, “Get a grip, Iris. You’re not a teenager.” She didn’t want to admit to herself that she wanted him around her.

“Mr. Moretti,” a reporter called, leaning forward over the velvet rope, “do you have any comment about the circumstances surrounding your father’s passing? There are whispers that—”

Dante’s smile cut the man off. “My father was a complicated man,” he said evenly. “I’ll honor him in my own way.”

The crowd erupted with more questions, but Dante lifted his hand, signaling his bodyguards to move them along. Iris felt a prickle crawl up her spine. Dante had avoided the question on purpose.

By the time they slipped into the back of the car, she decided to ask him about it. Dante sat beside her, his fingers scrolling through his phone as if the night hadn’t just cracked open another mystery about him.

She turned her head, watching the sharp line of his profile in the dim light. “You didn’t answer the reporter when he asked about your father. Why?

His thumb stilled on the screen. “Didn’t need to.”

“That’s not the same as an answer. Why won’t you tell me what really happened to your father?”

Dante’s eyes flicked to her, “Not now, Iris.” There was a warning in his voice.

“So, never then?” Iris pushed, fingering the pearls on her neck.

He sighed, as though her words were a burden. “Drop it.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Funny. You demand honesty from me, but when it’s your turn, you shut down.”

That got his attention. He turned to her. “You want to talk about honesty?” He looked annoyed. “You never told me why you really left Mark.”

Her stomach flipped, and her cheeks flamed. “That’s different.”

“The hell it is.” His voice deepened. “You hold back, too, Iris. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

The car grew suffocating, and by the time they reached the house, Iris was fuming, her heels clicking furiously against the tiles as she stormed inside. Dante followed; she could feel his gaze burning into her back.

She spun on him in the kitchen. “You can’t just deflect and expect me to be okay with it!”

“And you can’t demand what you won’t give,” he shot back, stepping closer. His height, his presence, crowded her.

“God, you’re infuriating.”

“And you’re a hypocrite.” His voice was almost a growl now.

Her lips parted, and Iris was ready with another sharp reply, but then he closed the space, his hand catching her wrist. The spark that jolted through her was instant.

“Dante,” she warned, breathily, heavily.

But his eyes had shifted, and he was looking at her with something that wasn’t anger anymore. “You drive me insane,” he muttered, and suddenly his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was hungry and left her breathless. She gasped and pushed at his chest, but Dante's hands slid down to hold her hips, as he held her in place while he played with her tongue, deepening the kiss. Iris moaned into his mouth, feeling things she shouldn't.

“Dante…” she tried again, but her voice broke when he bit softly at her lower lip, pulling her deeper into him.

Her back hit the edge of the kitchen table. He lifted her easily, as if she weighed nothing, setting her down on the cool surface. “This is not…” She cut herself off with a moan as his mouth trailed down her throat.

“Not what?” His voice vibrated against her neck. “Not what you want?”

Her fingers tangled in his hair despite herself.  She threw her head back and moaned in response. “And you’re wet for me already.”

“Cocky bastard,” she breathed.

“Only because I know I’m right.”

His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher. She bit down on her lip as his fingers pressed against her clit, right where she needed him most, teasing through the thin panties she wore.

“Dante…” Her voice was a plea now.

He kissed her again, slower this time, tongue sliding against hers with devastating skill. One hand held Iris’s waist, holding her steady, while the other slipped past her panties. She arched into him, a soft cry breaking free.

“Fuck, Iris,” he murmured. “You’re perfect like this.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders as his fingers worked her clit, rubbing in circular motions, pulling wave after wave of heat from her body. When she finally came from his sweet assault on her clit, he kissed her forehead. But he wasn’t finished.

Before she could catch her breath, he pushed her panties aside completely and freed his hard dick. Her eyes widened at the thickness of it, slightly curved to the left, and, instinctively, she tightened her legs around his waist.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, though his body was already poised to take her.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered fiercely.

That was all he needed. He thrust into her in one smooth, powerful motion, filling her so completely she cried out. He gritted his teeth, forehead pressed to hers as he groaned. “Fuck, you feel too good.”

The table creaked beneath them as he set a relentless rhythm, each thrust driving her higher, deeper into madness. She clung to him, moaning his name, her nails scraping his back as if to anchor herself.

Their argument was forgotten,  and the only thing that existed was the sound of his ragged breathing, the slick slide of skin against skin, the delicious pressure building inside her as he slammed into her again and again. “Harder,” she begged, surprising even herself.

His answering growl vibrated through her chest as he obeyed, pounding into her until stars danced at the edges of her vision.

“Fuck!” She gasped, the words tearing out of her as another orgasm slammed through her.

He followed seconds later, spilling into her with a broken groan, his whole body trembling against hers. When Dante finally pulled back just enough to look at her, his lips were curved in a wicked, breathless smile. “Still think I’m impossible?”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She swallowed hard, a laugh slipping out despite the chaos of her thoughts. “Completely impossible.”

And then his mouth was on hers again, pulling her back into the fire.

Damn, that feels good...she thought to herself.