You’re going to be the death of me.

Cassidy's POV

He leaned over me, his chest against my back, lips at my ear. “You like that, don’t you? Taking me everywhere. So fucking dirty and perfect.”

“Yes—god, yes,” I panted, meeting his thrusts. He sped up, the room filling with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, my moans growing louder. His fingers pinched my clit just right, and I exploded, the orgasm ripping through me like fire, clenching around him in waves that left me shaking.

Dante followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural roar, his release pulsing inside me. We collapsed in a heap, breathless and spent, his arms wrapping around me from behind.

“Fuck, Cassidy,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I laughed weakly, turning in his arms to face him. “Worth it.”

We lay there for what felt like hours, tangled in each other, trading soft kisses and whispered secrets. He told me more about his childhood—the lonely nights after his mom’s death, how he’d sneak into his dad’s office just to feel less invisible. I shared fragments of my own messed-up past: the Christmases where Mom forgot gifts because she was too busy chasing her latest fling, the way Jason had gaslit me for months, making me doubt my worth.

Eventually, the sun climbed higher, filtering through the penthouse windows in golden streams. Dante stirred, his hand stroking my hair. “As much as I’d love to stay buried in you all day, we should probably get up. Shower?”

I nodded, letting him pull me to my feet. His bathroom was a dream—marble everything, a rainfall shower that could fit a small party. He turned on the water, steam filling the air as he backed me under the spray. Warm water cascaded over us, washing away the evidence of our night (and morning), but not the heat between us.

His hands were everywhere, soaping my body with a gentleness that contrasted his earlier intensity. He lathered my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they peaked. “Can’t keep my hands off you,” he admitted, rinsing me clean before dropping to his knees.

The water pounded on his back as he hooked one of my legs over his shoulder, his mouth finding my core again. I braced against the tile, moaning as his tongue delved in, the heat of the water amplifying every sensation. He ate me out like it was his mission, fingers joining his tongue, thrusting in time with the laps and sucks.

“Dante—I can’t—too much,” I gasped, but my body betrayed me, hips grinding against his face.

“You can,” he murmured against me. “One more for me, princess.”

He was right. The orgasm built fast, crashing over me in shuddering waves. I screamed his name, knees buckling, but he held me up, licking me through it until I was boneless.

Standing, he kissed me deeply, sharing my taste once more. “Now, your turn,” I said, sinking to my knees despite the water streaming into my eyes.

I took him in my hand, stroking the thick length before leaning in to lick the tip. He groaned, one hand tangling in my wet hair. “Fuck, yes.”

I sucked him in, hollowing my cheeks, taking him as deep as I could. His hips bucked gently, guiding me, praises falling from his lips—“So good, baby. Just like that.” I worked him with my mouth and hand, relishing the way he tensed, his breaths ragged.

When he was close, he pulled me up, spinning me to face the wall. “Need to be inside you,” he growled, thrusting into me from behind. The angle was perfect, hitting deep as the water slicked our bodies. He fucked me hard, one arm around my waist, the other teasing my breasts.

We came together again, his release hot and claiming, my walls milking him dry. Afterward, we actually cleaned up, laughing between kisses, the steam making everything feel dreamlike.

Wrapped in fluffy towels, we migrated to the kitchen. Dante brewed coffee—strong, black, just how I liked it—while I perched on the counter in his oversized shirt, sketching him on a napkin. The balcony called next, the city sprawling below like a conquered kingdom. We sipped our drinks, the sun warming our skin, his hand on my thigh a constant anchor.

“You’ve got talent,” he murmured, watching my pencil fly over the paper, capturing the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. “Capturing souls on paper. What else you hiding?”

I laughed, light for the first time in days. “Mysteries for another morning. Tell me about your world—late nights, deals in shadows. You’re no ordinary guy.”

He smirked, cryptic. “Work’s a beast—high stakes, higher rewards. But today? It’s just us.” No CEO confessions, just teasing glimpses that hooked me deeper. We talked for hours—about dreams, fears, the little things that made us human. His fingers traced patterns on my leg, inching higher under the shirt, stirring embers again.

But paradise cracked when his phone buzzed—insistent, shattering the bubble. He glanced at it, jaw clenching like a vice. “Fucking work,” he muttered, answering with a clipped tone. “What?”

I could hear the voice on the other end—crisp, professional, female. His secretary. “Mr. Ashford, your 9 a.m. meeting with the board is starting soon. They’re waiting in the conference room. Shall I stall them?”

Dante’s eyes flicked to me, regret flashing. “Tell them I’ll be there in twenty. And cancel my lunch—reschedule for tomorrow.” He hung up, tossing the phone aside with a sigh. “Duty calls, princess. The empire doesn’t run itself.”

“Stay?” I whispered, half-plea, half-joke, my hand on his arm.

He cupped my face, kissing me slow and deep, tongue savoring like goodbye. “Can’t, but sort your chaos. I’ll swing by later—dinner, my treat. No escaping me now.”

I dressed in last night’s rumpled clothes, the scent of him clinging like a promise. He drove me home in his sleek black car, hand warm on my thigh, the city blurring past in charged silence. At my building, he idled, engine purring like his voice. “Text me. And remember—you’re not their victim. You’re my fire.”

I stole one last kiss—aching, lingering—before stepping out, his eyes on me as I climbed the stairs. Key trembling in the lock, the door creaked open to stale silence... until a shadow moved inside, and my stomach dropped.