His Rules

Elena woke up to the sound of a shower running.

For a few seconds she didn’t move. The bed was too big, the sheets too expensive, and the dull ache between her legs was a brutal reminder of everything that had happened the night before. She turned her head slowly. The other side of the bed was empty, but the pillow still held the faint indentation of Dante’s head.

She sat up carefully, pulling the dark sheet up over her chest. Morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bright and unforgiving. The city looked different from up here — cleaner, colder, farther away.

The shower stopped.

Elena’s pulse picked up.

A few moments later Dante walked out of the bathroom with a black towel hanging low on his hips. His hair was damp. Water still clung to his shoulders and chest. He didn’t seem surprised to find her awake. Those cold eyes moved over her once, lingering on the way she clutched the sheet.

“You’re up,” he said.

Elena didn’t answer.

Dante walked to the closet, dropped the towel without any shame, and pulled on a pair of black pants. He didn’t bother with a shirt right away. When he turned back to her, his expression was the same as the night before — calm, assessing, completely in control.

“Get up.”

“I need clothes,” she said.

“You’ll get them. After.”

“After what?”

Dante didn’t reply. He simply waited.

Elena’s jaw tightened. She hated the way her body already felt smaller under his stare. Slowly, she slid out of bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around herself. Dante watched every movement. When she stood in front of him, he reached out and tugged the sheet free from her fingers. It fell to the floor.

He looked at her naked body in the daylight without rushing.

“You’ll stay in this penthouse,” he said finally. “You don’t leave unless I take you. You don’t touch the phones. You don’t try to contact anyone. If you need something, you ask me.”

Elena crossed her arms over her chest. “So I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re payment,” Dante corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“It doesn’t feel different.”

He stepped closer. The scent of clean skin and his cologne wrapped around her. “Your brother is alive and unharmed because you’re here. That should be enough motivation for you to behave.”

The reminder hit its mark. Elena looked away.

Dante’s fingers caught her chin and forced her face back to his. “When I speak to you, you look at me.”

She glared at him, but she didn’t pull away.

“Good.” His thumb brushed once over her bottom lip. “There are more rules. You sleep in my bed. You don’t lock doors against me. And when I want you, you don’t pretend you have a choice.”

Heat crawled up Elena’s neck. “You’re disgusting.”

Dante’s mouth twitched. “You’re allowed to think that. You’re just not allowed to forget who decides what happens here.”

He released her chin and walked over to a chair where a folded set of clothes had been left — soft black pants and a simple top. He picked them up and held them out to her.

“Get dressed. Then come to the kitchen. You’re going to eat.”

Elena took the clothes without a word and went into the bathroom. She locked the door even though she knew it was pointless. When she came back out, dressed, Dante was already gone from the bedroom.

She found him in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a cup of coffee. A plate of food was waiting on the island. He nodded toward it.

“Sit.”

Elena sat. She forced herself to eat a few bites under his watchful eyes. The silence stretched until it felt heavy.

“How long?” she asked eventually.

Dante raised an eyebrow.

“How long are you keeping me here?”

He took a slow sip of coffee before answering. “Until I decide otherwise.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Elena set her fork down harder than necessary. “You can’t just erase someone’s life because my brother made a mistake.”

Dante placed his cup on the counter and walked around the island until he was standing beside her stool. He rested one hand on the back of it, leaning in just enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“I can do whatever I want,” he said quietly. “And right now, what I want is you in my space, under my rules, available whenever I decide to take you.”

The bluntness of it made her stomach twist.

Dante’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower. Without warning, he reached down and gripped her thigh, sliding his hand higher until his fingers pressed against the soft place between her legs through the thin fabric of the pants.

Elena’s breath caught.

“Still sore?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

His fingers pressed a little firmer, rubbing slowly. “You’re already reacting. Interesting.”

“Stop.”

“No.”

He kept the light, deliberate pressure on her until her breathing turned uneven and her thighs tensed under his hand. Then he pulled away, leaving her flushed and angry.

“Go back to the bedroom.”

Elena stared at him. “Why?”

Dante’s eyes were cold and certain. “Because I’m not finished with you.”

She wanted to refuse. The word sat on her tongue. But the quiet threat from earlier — her brother’s safety — kept her silent. Slowly, she slid off the stool and walked back down the hallway. She could feel him following close behind.

Inside the bedroom, Dante closed the door.

“Take the clothes off.”

Elena’s hands curled into fists at her sides. For a moment she just stood there, breathing hard. Then she pulled the top over her head and pushed the pants down her legs, kicking them aside. She stood naked in front of him again, chin lifted in stubborn defiance even as her pulse raced.

Dante walked toward her slowly, unbuckling his belt as he moved. He didn’t undress fully. He only freed himself, already hard and thick in his hand. His eyes never left her body.

“On the bed. On your back.”

Elena climbed onto the mattress, heart pounding. Dante followed, settling between her thighs. He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he ran the head of his cock slowly through her folds, dragging it up and down, coating himself in the wetness she couldn’t hide. Every pass over her clit made her breath stutter.

“You’re wet for me already,” he said quietly. “Even while you look at me like you hate me.”

“I do hate you.”

“I know.” He notched himself at her entrance and pushed in with one long, steady thrust.

The stretch forced a sharp gasp from her throat. Dante groaned low as he sank all the way inside her, hips flush against hers. He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, letting her feel every thick inch of him.

“Still so fucking tight,” he muttered.

Then he started moving.

The first strokes were slow and deep, almost measured, as if he wanted her to feel every inch dragging in and out. Elena’s hands gripped the sheets. The burn of the stretch mixed with something hotter, something she didn’t want to name. Dante watched her face the entire time, eyes dark and focused.

He pulled almost all the way out, then pushed back in harder. The new force dragged a broken sound from her throat. He did it again. And again. Each thrust landed deeper than the last until the sound of skin meeting skin filled the quiet room.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Elena forced her eyes open. Dante’s expression was tight with control, jaw clenched, gaze locked on hers as he fucked her with steady, powerful strokes. One of his hands pinned both of her wrists above her head. The other gripped her thigh and pushed it higher, opening her wider for him.

“You feel that?” he said, voice rough. “That’s me taking what’s mine. And you’re going to lie here and take it until I’m done.”

He shifted his angle and drove into her harder. The new depth made her back arch. A helpless sound slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Dante’s eyes flashed with dark satisfaction.

“That’s better.”

He kept the same deep, relentless rhythm, never looking away from her face. Every time she tried to turn her head, he forced her chin back so she had to meet his eyes. The pressure inside her built steadily, heat coiling tighter low in her stomach. She tried to fight it, tried to stay separate from what her body was doing, but Dante seemed determined to drag the pleasure out of her whether she wanted it or not.

His hand left her thigh and slid between them. He found her clit and rubbed firm, precise circles while he continued to thrust deep.

“You’re going to come,” he told her. “I want to feel it around my cock.”

Elena shook her head, breathing hard. “I won’t—”

“You will.”

He pressed harder on her clit and drove into her at the same time. The dual sensation ripped through her resistance. The orgasm hit her in a sharp, powerful wave. Her back arched off the bed as her body clenched tightly around him, pulsing hard. A broken cry left her throat.

Dante groaned like the feeling of her coming on his cock satisfied something deep and dark. He fucked her through it, prolonging every pulse, until her thighs were shaking and her wrists strained against his grip.

He still didn’t come.

Instead, he pulled out of her suddenly. Elena made a small sound of protest at the loss before she could stop herself. Dante’s mouth curved slightly.

“Turn over.”

When she didn’t move fast enough, he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her stomach. He pulled her up onto her knees, chest pressed to the mattress, and pushed back inside her in one smooth thrust.

The new angle forced a raw, broken moan from her throat.

Dante leaned over her, one hand planted beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. He started fucking her with deeper, heavier strokes. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room. Every thrust pushed her forward into the mattress.

“You take me so well like this,” he said, voice low and rough against her ear. “Like your body already knows who it belongs to.”

Elena’s fingers curled into the sheets. The fresh angle hit something inside her that made her thighs tremble. Dante noticed. He kept driving into that same spot, relentless, while his hand slid under her and found her clit again.

“You’re going to come one more time,” he ordered. “Then I’ll fill you up.”

She tried to shake her head, but the pressure was already building again — faster and sharper than before. Dante rubbed firm circles over her clit and thrust deep at the same time. The second orgasm tore through her harder than the first. She cried out into the sheets as her body clenched and pulsed around him.

This time Dante followed her over.

He buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural sound and came hard, flooding her with thick heat. She felt every pulse of his release as he emptied himself deep inside her, hips pressed tightly against her ass. He stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing heavily, one hand still gripping her hip.

Eventually he pulled out slowly. Elena felt the loss of him, then the warm trickle of his release sliding down her inner thigh. Dante looked at it with quiet, dark satisfaction before standing up and fixing his pants.

He stared down at her still-kneeling form on the bed.

“Those are the rules,” he said calmly. “You’ll learn them. And you’ll follow them.”

Elena sank down onto the mattress, chest rising and falling, body still trembling. She could feel him leaking out of her.

Dante turned toward the door.

“Clean yourself up,” he added without looking back. “Then come find me. We’re not done talking about expectations.”

He left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Elena lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, the city glittering beyond the windows, and understood that last night had only been the beginning.