Semua Bab Craving The Mafia's Touch.: Bab 1 - Bab 8

Dante's POV. "Yeah… gulp it, take every damn inch," I growled, my voice low and sharp, my hand gripping the back of her head as I pushed deeper. Her lips stretched around me, muffled gasps mixing with the obscene sound of wetness. She whimpered when I tightened my fingers in her hair, and my other hand cracked against her ass, hard enough to make her jolt. I liked the way they jolted. The way their tears mixed with spit. The way I could feel control thrum in my veins like a drug. Women, to me, were tools. Flesh to warm my bed. Lips to drain my frustration. Hips to fuck until they couldn't stand straight. Feed them, touch them, toss them. Simple. Predictable. I leaned back, letting her work, my mind half here, half somewhere else. My thoughts drifted to numbers, territory, the last shipment from the port... Then, slicing through the air like a blade, I heard it. “Dante Moretti!” A woman’s voice. Strong. Unflinching. Not a whimper, not a plea, this one was a challenge. I froz

Dante's POV, The last gulp of bourbon slid down my throat like liquid fire, the burn settling deep in my chest. I let it linger there a moment before slamming the glass onto the mahogany desk. The knock came again...sharp, impatient."Come in," I muttered, still facing the massive floor to ceiling window that overlooked the city.Boots clicked against the marble floor. My personal guard stepped in, broad-shouldered, hands clasped neatly behind his back like the disciplined soldier he was.“She’s here,” he said, voice low, controlled.A slow smirk pulled at my lips. “I knew she’d come back.”The guard cleared his throat. “It’s not Bianca, sir.”My smirk froze, then fell. I turned sharply. “Then who the hell is it?”His expression barely shifted. “Betty. Betty Mordecai.”My jaw tightened, not with fear, never with fear, but with pure disappointment. That woman was like a stubborn stain I couldn’t scrub out.“What is she doing here now?” I asked, the words ground out between my te

Dante’s POV The morning air was quiet, still laced with the scent of last night’s smoke from the courtyard torches. I was already at the balcony, glass in hand, swirling the thick, ruby liquid of a Sassicaia 2018. Smooth, bold, arrogant, just like me. The kind of wine that lingered too long on the tongue, reminding you it was expensive enough to silence men twice my age.I heard her before I saw her. Those deliberate, almost arrogant footsteps. Bianca. She had that habit of walking like the whole damn floor belonged to her.I didn’t turn. I let her stand there. I wanted her to stew in her own silence.After a beat, I said without looking back,“Is greeting far from your side these days, or has respect gone extinct already?”Her voice slid through the morning like a blade.“Respect should be earned, Dante. Maybe take up the cross you keep preaching about and set the example, instead of waiting for people to worship you.”I smiled into my wine. Damn! woman was blunt, I’d give her t

Dante's POV I opened her door, expecting her to be ready, but froze the moment I saw her. Bianca stood in front of the mirror, her servant fussing over her, adjusting her hair and the folds of a deep red gown that clung to her curves like it had been molded to her body. The feather mask hiding part of her face only made her more dangerous. Every inch of her screamed power and elegance...deadly, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore. My pulse picked up, and I immediately snapped back to reality, signaling the maid to leave.She turned sharply, her eyes catching mine in the mirror. “Don’t waste your time, Dante. I’m not changing my mind about going to that party,” she said, her voice a whip that cut straight to the point.I leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m not here to talk you out of it,” I said, letting my gaze roam over her, the way the red gown hugged her waist, the subtle shimmer of the fabric across her chest. “But you need to be careful. Mordecai i