Dante Club Book Novels & Stories

The idea of wearing Dante's collar, of being marked as his so publicly, made my cock throb despite how exhausted I was. "Help me put it on?" I asked. Dante's eyes darkened. He took the collar and fastened it around my neck, adjusting it until it fit snugly. Not tight enough to restrict breathing, but present enough that I'd feel it constantly. "Perfect," he murmured, running his thumb over the leather. "Absolutely perfect. Now get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes." ************************ The club was in an unmarked building in the warehouse district, the kind of place you'd never find unless you knew exactly what you were looking for. Dante had already handled all the paperwork online,

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“If she was part of this council, if she faked her death just to test me... I’m going to burn that mountain to the ground.” “You go there, and you’re playing their game.” Dante finally looked up. His eyes were flat, the dark circles under them like bruises. He reached for a cleaning rag, his movements stiff. “The Council doesn’t have ‘members’ in the way you think. They have assets. My family was their library. Your mother? Maybe she was their blade. If she’s alive, she’s not the woman who tucked you in at night. She’s the person who let me butcher a cellar full of people just to see if you’d survive the trauma.” “I have to know, Dante.”

I think I have an idea of what is happening here. Dante peeked out, frowned, and suddenly, he understood something I didn't. "Your brother was going to Venus, one of the domination and submission clubs available in Los Angeles, a limited partnership club that Hiro has nothing to do with, but still recommends it," he explained and I folded my arms. I remember once I made an asshole comment about there being no diversity there and two women came in holding hands, a beautiful African-American and an Oriental girl who speaks an Asian language, but she... He had a mask. They both listened to the criticism and had fun at our expense, then they passed them through and he left with her.

Smooth and thick, soft and mocking. “Don’t,” the black wolf glared at it. “Okay!” The white one raised a paw in mock surrender. “That’s Blake,” Dante said, gesturing toward the white wolf. “My Zeta.” Beta is Adolphus. Zeta is Blake. Weird titles. Beta-Zeta. Sounds like some Greek alphabet mafia. I figured it meant they were his right-hand... wolves? Blake bowed to me, which felt surreal. “They’re my most trusted,” Dante added, his eyes boring into mine. “They won’t harm you.”

EMPIRE OF SIN — BOOK 1 The Rejected Queen Returns BOOK 2 & BOOK 3 — COMING SOON MATURE CONTENT WARNING: This book contains mature themes, violence, betrayal, and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. “I’ll make you a queen, Lilith. But are you ready to spread your legs without counting the number of cocks that go in?” Lilith thought she knew what betrayal looked like until she found her husband in bed with the woman she trusted most: her best friend, Anna. But the betrayal is only the beginning. When Anna attacks Lilith and accidentally falls down the stairs, she accuses Lilith of pushing her. Her husband believes Anna without question. Within minutes, Lilith gets

he probed. My gaze forcefully trailed up from the movement of his fingers on the zip of his pants, “That’s not… Not what I’m talking about.” “Then what?” Despite the fact that we hadn’t concluded on the conversation, Dante got up from the bed and for a moment I thought he was angry, but every single word stuck to my throat faded so easily when he tugged his pants down and I saw the intricate, and neat font two word line tattoo below his hip bone. I could only see the first word which read: ‘Sin.’

"Dancing, drinks. Definitely not what responsible adults do." "I'm in," Khloe replied without hesitation. I turned to Dante. "Do you dance?" "Not well. But yes." We quickly changed. I slipped into a black bodycon dress and put on heels I knew I'd regret later. Dante emerged in a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. Even in casual clothes, he was strikingly handsome. The club was exactly as Dove had described: an open-air venue right on the beach, with disco lights and bass so deep it resonated in your chest. Bodies swayed freely all around us, uninhibited and alive.

“A little… but I like it.” Dante groaned again and pulled me even tighter against him. “Fuck, baby… you’re going to make me lose control in the middle of this club.”

“We’re workshopping names.” “You did all this…for me?” I ask, my voice smaller than I mean it to be. “Who else here sings?” another voice says behind us. I turn. Dante stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he owns it—which he does. Dark shirt, dark jeans, no tie. He looks more like the club rat I used to know than the billionaire my contract says I married. He pushes off the frame and steps into the room, eyes watching my face more than the space.