Dante Dmc 6 Novels & Stories

Dean banged his spear against the floor and managed to close the portal. "My friend!" Yama chuckled, his voice loud enough to down the sound of buzzing. I gawked at him as he was in one of his crazy suits which were too blinding for my eyes. He was the only demon who inherited the throne without having to fight for it. The longest-running Demon King. Most of them admired him for that quality and feared him at the same time. Then again he looked like the kind of person who cannot even hurt a fly. With his tall slender body, gangly arms and brown chocolate eyes he looked like the boy next door.

Dante. Leaning casually against the window, half-naked, holding a glass of amber whiskey like he was in a cologne commercial. His tattoo curled down the side of his torso like it had been drawn by sin itself, highlighting every sculpted inch of his abs. And that smirk—God, that smirk. Equal parts arrogant and devastating. What on earth was wrong with you, Scarlet? Why do you want to pounce on him? “Why am I here?” I asked, trying to sound firm, though my eyes may have lingered a little too long on his chest.

“That’s the one, huh?” Evelyn turned, jaw tight. A man emerged from the passenger seat. Slightly shorter than Damien, he was stockier, wearing joggers and a fitted tank top that clung to biceps sculpted like Roman statues. Tattoos curled along his arms, and his smirk was just as annoying. “Evelyn, meet my brother, Dante,” Damien said, clearly entertained. “The personal trainer,” Dante added, flexing a little. “I run gyms up and down the East Coast.”

he smirks. Dante pulls my legs higher...his length glides into my aching pussy in one smooth stroke causing my hips to buckle. A strangled moan slips out, it hurts like hell in that erotic way,I part my legs wider , my weight propped by my elbow. Dante grips my waist slamming into me with so much force that my breasts jiggle in reaction. The second thrust is less aggressive , and just when I think I've gotten his full length there's a third that sends my back into a deep arch.

The house was warm from the afternoon sun shining outside and I heard a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my first thought was that it might be Marcus again, trying to force another appearance. My chest tightened at the thought. But when I pulled the door open, my breath caught for an entirely different reason. It was Dante. He stood there, tall and composed on the outside, but I could see it immediately. His shoulders seemed heavier, his eyes darker, like he hadn't had a good sleep in weeks.

Dante wanted to believe her, but he chose not to – this way he would be able to get over her death quicker. “Don’t you remember what they did you our parents?” Dante spoke as he stood in the middle of his room. His one eye covers with a patch, while a deep scar runs from his right cheek to the corner of his lips. Another deep scar ran at the side of his head. He is wearing a plain white button-up shirt and black pants. His hair is gelled back neatly. Dante and Mateo share the same eye color – they got it from their mother. They both are tall, but Mateo is slightly taller than his elder brother.

He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans, but I’m pretty sure he’s built. “Send me your address,” Dante instructed. “Ok, doing it right now,” I said, as I typed a message into my phone. Dante’s phone went off. “Perfect,” he smiled and started to walk away. He stopped and turned towards me. “You’re a size six, right?” “Yes, how did you know?” I asked, puzzled. “Just a talent I have,” Dante laughed. “See you at 7:00 pm, Kimmy.” “I look forward to it,” I said, smiling.

Dante leaned against the counter, his demeanor cool and collected, "I'm looking for someone. A woman by the name of Raven," Dante's voice was a deep and resonant baritone, commanding attention with its rich tone. It carried a hint of weariness, a testament to the burdens he has shouldered and the battles he has fought. Every word that emerges from his lips is delivered with a layer of grit and determination as if honed by years of pain and survival.

Aiden tensed— Dante appeared from the shadows, arms full of supplies: food, water, a burner phone, clothes, and something metal. Aiden blinked. “What’s that?” “A scrambler,” Dante said proudly. “Blocks local scanners.” Aiden’s lips parted. “Where did you get that?” “Borrowed it.” “You mean stole it,” Aiden said softly. “I mean borrowed it forever.” Dante smirked. “Now move.” They made their way deeper into town, avoiding main streets. Dante walked slightly ahead, shoulders tense, scanning for danger. Aiden tried to follow, but every few steps the world pulsed with sensory overload.

Dante stands out the front looking hot as sin. He is in cream linen trousers and a dark T-shirt. From the car I can see his large bicep muscles, the way his waist is trim leading down to narrow hips. On his feet he wears tan flip flops. Rake stops the car, gets out and comes round to help me out.