You taste like trouble.

Cassidy’s POV

Dante’s penthouse was a whole different universe.

Lights painted the glass walls with reflections from the endless, glittering skyline—like we were floating above everything that hurt. Marble floors so glossy I could see myself in them. White leather sofas. Black grand piano. Shelves lined with metal sculptures, abstract and sharp. He lived like a king. Or a wolf.

I’d barely made it five feet inside before he slammed the door and pressed me against the cold glass, the city stretching out behind us. My pulse thundered. My breath stalled.

I had no time to be awed. Everything happened fast. Dante wrapped his fists in my hair, yanking my head gently so I stared straight into the dark, hungry heat in his eyes.

“You look at me like you want to be ruined,” he said, voice thick, dangerous, deliciously low.

I shuddered, pressing closer. “Maybe I do.”

His lips crashed onto mine—a kiss that felt more like an invasion than an invitation, hot, possessive, tongue sliding over my lower lip before diving inside.

My body jerked at the force of it. He tasted like whiskey and danger. His breath was rough as his hands yanked my jacket off, fingers trailing up my bare arms, memorizing the goosebumps, the way my heart thudded at his touch.

“You taste like trouble,” Dante murmured, lips ghosting over my jaw, biting my throat—just hard enough to make me whimper.

“You like trouble,” I managed, batting at his chest. But his chest didn’t budge.

He stepped back just enough for me to see all of him—his dress shirt, half unbuttoned, clinging to every curve of his muscle. His chest, dusted with dark hair, two swirls of tattoos peeking beneath the open collar—thorns, skulls, something wild stretching along his pecs. Abs like cut marble. Thick arms, veins rising beneath skin. He was big. So damn big the air felt thinner.

He caught me staring. Smirked.

“See something you like, princess?”

I tried to glare. Couldn't. “Maybe.”

He leaned close, his words a growl. “Maybe is about to become yes.”

His hands were everywhere at once—tracing my ribs, raking up my hips, teasing the edge of my jeans, palm sliding over my waist to grab my ass, squeezing hard enough I gasped.

“God, you feel good,” he teased, voice tight, jaw clenching as he pressed me against the glass so hard that my breasts crushed against him. “You know how bad I want to see you tremble?”

“You want me trembling?” I said, half laughter, half dare. “Do your worst.”

His eyes flashed. Wicked, hungry. “Careful what you wish for.”

He yanked my crop top up, exposing pale skin to icy air, then ran his mouth hot and slow from the hollow of my throat down across my collarbone, teeth grazing, tongue flicking.

I moaned—soft, shameless, clueless how to be coy. There was no point. He was unraveling me cell by cell.

He paused and slid his palm under my shirt, thumb circling the edge of my lacy black bra. I arched up, hips rolling, desperate for more. He laughed softly, the vibration buzzing against my skin.

“Look at you, Cassidy.” Biting my shoulder. “Already so desperate. Has anyone ever touched you like I’m about to?”

“Not even close,” I admitted—voice raw, needy.

“Good.” His hands slid down my sides. “You deserve better than those boys. You deserve to be filthy. Ruined. Worshipped.”

I whimpered, reaching up, fingers pressing against his abs—hard ridges, skin warm, a trail of tattoos winding across his hip and down beneath his jeans. God. I wanted him naked. I wanted him completely.

He pulled back and grinned, eyes dark. “Get on your knees, princess. I want you staring at me while I take your top off.”

Wordless, dazed, I dropped to my knees atop the cool marble, hands shaky as I reached up and let him lift my shirt over my head.

He cupped my jaw, thumb rubbing my cheek, gentle for one fleeting second. “Breathe. Watch me.”

He slid his shirt off, every muscle popping into sharp relief, abs so defined I wanted to bite them, tattooed arms flexing as he unbuttoned his pants. I stared—mouth open, heartbeat pounding in my teeth.

I reached for his jeans. He stopped me.

His dark gaze burned. “Say please. I want you begging.”

I swallowed. “Please, Dante. I want to see you.”

He laughed—a filthy, rich, dirty sound. “Good girl.”

He slid his jeans off, boxers gone a second later.

God.

He was huge. Thick, long, dark. My hips went hot with want—need pulsing low as I drank in every inch. The head was swollen, cock already hard, veins ridged, a drop of slick glistening at the tip.

My mouth watered. He watched my reaction, jaw clenched, eyes hooded, loving every wicked second.

“You ever seen a man this big?” he purred.

I shook my head, biting my lip. “No. Never.”

He gripped himself, stroking slow, teasing. “You’re going to worship me, princess. You’re going to beg for more, every time.”

“Fuck,” I gasped, heat flaring in my cheeks. “I want to touch you.”

His grin went feral. “Then do it. Show me you’re not scared.”

I reached for him, wrapping my hand around the thick of his cock, feeling the heat, the heavy pulse, the power of him. He hissed, guiding my hand up and down, then knotting his fingers in my hair.

“Open your mouth.”

I did—heart thudding as I licked the tip, tasted salt and need, lips sliding down his length until my jaw ached and my breath caught. He pumped his hips, groaning.

“Good girl. Keep going. I want your lips soaked. I want to see you drool for my cock.”

His dirty words made me ache. I pressed in, tongue swirling, sucking hard, listening to him growl.

He yanked me up abruptly, mouth crashing onto mine, hands grabbing my face, kiss savage.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Dante growled against my lips, voice hoarse. “Get on the bed. Naked. Now.”

I scrambled, crawling onto the enormous soft sheets, skin flushed. I slid my jeans and panties down, lying back as he prowled over, flicking the lamp to cast golden light over every curve.

He stared—slow, deliberate, making me squirm. His eyes went wild.

“Goddamn, Cassidy. You’re unreal.”

He bent down, lips worshipping my body. First my throat, teeth leaving marks. Next my breasts—pulling my bra aside, sucking my nipple hard, tongue working in circles. I arched up, whimpering. He grinned, catching my nipple between his teeth, tugging gently, then soothing the ache with tongue and lips.

“Beautiful tits. Gorgeous,” he breathed, hands kneading, squeezing. “Do you like it when I use my teeth?”

“Yes. Yes, please…”

He licked a path down my ribs, belly, tongue dipping into my navel. His tattoos—snakes, roses, daggers—flared as he moved lower, hands gripping my thighs, forcing them apart. I lay trembling, desperate.

He kissed my inner thigh—then bit, leaving a mark, licking slow.

“You’re dripping, princess,” he murmured, fingers skimming the slick ache between my legs. “Does this turn you on—me, my cock, my mouth?”

His filthy words made my pulse roar. I nodded.

He looked up, eyes blazing. “Say it. Tell me you want to be eaten alive.”

“I want you. I want everything.”

“Good girl.”

He parted me with two thick fingers, sliding slow into my heat. I gasped, clinging to the sheets, watching his eyes for every reaction.

“Look at you—so wet. So ready. You want my tongue?”

“Please,” I begged.

He smirked, then bent down, mouth finding my core, tongue swirling, licking deep and thorough, lips tugging at the sensitive bud until I was crying out, fingers buried in his hair, thighs squeezing his head.

He ate me like he was starving. Slow at first, teasing, then harder, tongue fucking, lips sucking, everything dirty. He paused just to let me writhe, to watch my face.

“You taste like honey. Soft. Sweet,” he murmured, licking me up and down. “I want you coming on my mouth, Cassidy.”

He slipped two fingers inside, curling, thrusting as his mouth worked magic. I shattered, legs shaking, body arching, heart sprinting. My moans echoed in the glass room—wordless, wild, begging.

He didn’t let up, coaxing every tremor out, eyes locked on mine as I came hard, wave after wave, shivering until I thought I might break.

Dante crawled up my body, kissing my stomach, my breasts, my throat. His lips gentle. His voice deadly.

“Let me ruin you, princess.”

“Yes,” I whispered, eyes glassy.

He spread my legs wide, guiding his cock to my entrance, nudging, sliding the head, teasing.

He leaned down, voice hoarse. “You want it rough, you say stop.”

“Don’t stop. Ever.”

He gripped my hips, positioning himself, then drove deep inside—filling me in one long, hard thrust. I gasped, clawing at his back, feeling thick muscle tense as he began to move, setting a rough, demanding rhythm.

He was huge—stretching me, making me ache and burn, every push brushing that spot deep inside until I was seeing stars.

Dante buried his face in my neck, biting, growling. “You’re so tight. So fucking perfect for me.”

I moaned, nails scraping his tattooed chest, feeling skin slick with sweat, scenting salt and raw man.

He picked up the pace—harder, faster, slamming into me until the bed shook, his breath gone ragged, voice unhinged.

“Tell me no one’s ever made you beg like this,” he groaned.

“No one. No one. Please, Dante, more.”

He bent my knees to my chest, thrusting deep, cock driving, abs flexing as he pounded until I couldn’t breathe, only cry.

He slowed—hips grinding in circles, teasing my clit with his thumb, stoking the pleasure higher, higher.

“You want to come again, princess?” he murmured against my ear.

“Please,” I whimpered, tears in my eyes.

He slammed inside, thumb circling, mouth licking sweat from my skin, watching me break apart again, shivering as my orgasm hit like lightning—body spasming, heart stopping.

“Good girl. That’s it. Let go for me.”

He kept going, never breaking eye contact, kissing me hard, leaning down so his breath was mine.

“Cassidy,” he groaned, abs flexing, muscles tensed, cock pulsing inside me. “I’m close. You want it?”

I looked him in the eye, wild and begging. “Yes. Finish inside me. Please.”

He slammed harder, hips jerking. His face crumpled, jaw tense, eyes blazing as he came—hips grinding, cock throbbing, body pressing me so deep into the mattress I thought I’d vanish from the world.

We stayed there—tangled, sweaty, ruined. He collapsed atop me, arms braced, head buried in my neck, breath coming rough and broken.

He rolled, flipped us so I was sprawled on his chest, cheek pressed to hard muscle, tattoos inked beneath my hand. He stroked my back, so gentle, so soft.

“You’re safe here,” Dante whispered, mouth pressed to my hair. “No lies. No pain. Just me and you.”

I let myself breathe, heart still racing, skin tingling, body humming with pleasure. For the first time since the betrayal—since Jason, since Mom—I felt different. I felt wanted. I felt new.