Cassandra's Desire

The evening had settled over the mansion like a velvet shroud.

Cassandra stood in the doorway of Dante's study, watching him work. His head was bent over papers, his pen moving steadily. He'd told her he would handle Isabella personally. He'd excused her, sending her to rest.

But she couldn't stay away.

She crossed the room silently, her bare feet soundless against the marble. She appeared behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her cheek pressed against his broad back.

Dante stilled. His hands covered hers, warm and strong. He turned in his chair, pulling her around to face him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Work." He gestured to the papers on his desk. "I do some office work at home. That's why I don't go to the office sometimes."

Cassandra frowned. "I miss my school. I really want to write my final exams."

His eyes softened. "I'll make that happen. I promise."

He released her and turned back to his work. Cassandra sat opposite him, watching. His focus was absolute, his pen moving across the papers with practiced efficiency.

But she couldn't stay away for long.

She stood, crossing the room. Her arms wrapped around him from behind again, her body pressed against his back.

Dante exhaled slowly. "Emma, you're distracting me."

"I know."

He set down his pen, his hand covering hers. "I'll give you what you want very soon," he murmured. "I promise."

Her cheeks flushed. She pulled him into a tight hug, her face buried in his neck. He hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her, not letting go.

A knock at the door.

"Come in," Dante called.

Cassandra tried to disentangle from the hug, but Dante held her tight.

"Let her see us," he whispered.

The maid entered. Her eyes widened when she saw them intertwined, Cassandra perched on Dante's lap, his arms wrapped around her. She stuttered, her face flushing crimson.

"Sir—dinner is ready. The others are waiting."

Dante didn't speak. He just nodded.

The maid dismissed herself quickly, her heels clicking against the marble.

They didn't leave for dinner immediately.

Cassandra was now fully on his lap, her legs draped over his thighs. His hands rested on her hips, pulling her closer. She leaned in, her lips finding his.

The kiss was soft at first, then deepened. His tongue traced her bottom lip, and she opened for him. She moaned against his mouth.

She pulled out of the kiss, breathless. "We should go. We shouldn't keep others waiting."

He groaned but nodded. "Fine. But this isn't over."

---

The dining room was grand, the table long enough to seat twenty. Crystal chandeliers cast sparkling light across the room. The others were already done eating, their plates pushed aside.

Cassandra greeted them politely. "Good evening. I'm sorry we're late."

Dante's aunt answered for everyone, her voice cold and cutting. "Finally. We were beginning to think you'd forgotten about us."

Dante ignored her. He pulled out a seat for Cassandra, settling her beside him. His hand rested on her lap beneath the table. She smiled, her cheeks flushing.

Dante's father watched them, his expression unreadable. His aunt shook her head in disapproval.

After a few seconds, they all left.

Cassandra fed Dante, her fingers bringing food to his lips so his hands could focus on her. He nodded appreciatively, his eyes dark with something more than hunger.

When she noticed the staff watching, she made him stop.

"You're being watched," she whispered.

"I don't care."

"Stop."

She took over, her hand going for his zipper beneath the table. Dante's breath caught. He licked his lips.

Then a maid interrupted. "Do you need anything, sir?"

Dante's jaw tightened. "Nothing," he said flatly.

The maid retreated.

---

After dinner, Dante took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

He sat on a chair, focusing on something on his phone. His brow was furrowed in concentration.

Then he felt her—hard, firm, pressed against his back. He turned to see her completely naked, her skin glowing in the dim light.

She fell onto his body, surprising him.

"Come have your bath," she whispered.

He carried her to the bathroom. The water was warm, steam rising around them. He undressed slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

---

After the bath, Cassandra fell onto the bed. The silk sheets were cool against her heated skin. Dante followed, his body hovering over hers.

His hands explored her, touching everywhere. Her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She arched into him, enjoying the sensation.

"I want you," she whispered.

"I know." His lips found her throat. "But we go slow. Remember?"

She nodded.

His hand traveled lower, his fingers tracing her entrance. She gasped, her body tensing.

Then she felt something at her entrance. He was easing into her slowly.

She shook, pain flashing through her body. "Dante—"

He stopped immediately. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts."

His eyes softened. He pulled back, his jaw tight. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have rushed."

Cassandra blinked back tears. "You didn't know."

"I should have been more careful." His hand went to her breast, his thumb stroking gently. "Relax. Just relax."

He tried his finger, easing it into her slowly. When he put it deeper, she cried out.

Dante took out his finger immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize." She reached for him. "It's not your fault."

"It is. I should have been patient." He pulled her into his arms, cuddling her close. "I promise not to rush. We'll take it slow. As slow as you need."

Cassandra nodded, burying her face in his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head. "Always."

They lay tangled together, his arms wrapped around her. His heart pounded against her ear, steady and strong.

"Emma," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"I love you."