Dante Sparda X Reader Novelas e Histórias

A shiver ran down her spine—not from the cool air but from the truth settling deep in her bones. Could she kill Antonio and still walk away from Dante unscathed? Would Dante let her? Would she even want to walk away? Before she could spiral further into dangerous thoughts, the bedroom door opened. Dante stood there, his hair damp from the shower, wearing only dark sweats, his torso bare, covered in scars and tattoos that marked his brutal past. His eyes locked onto her, narrowing slightly. “Thinking of running?” She forced a smirk. “You really think I’d be that stupid?”

It wasn't the violent explosion of the warehouse; it was a slow, honey-thick heat that traveled from my hand, up my arm, and settled deep in my chest. Dante let out a low, shaky breath. He didn't pull away. Instead, he flipped his hand over, interlacing his fingers with mine. We watched together as the black veins beneath his skin shivered and beat a hasty retreat, vanishing beneath his bronze skin once more. "You feel like life," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. "I’ve spent a decade feeling like a tomb, Elara. And you feel like a goddamn sunrise."

Elara pressed her hand to her stomach, crying silently. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” She ended the call and collapsed back onto the bed, shaking. Alive. Dante was alive. But somewhere in Thailand, lying in a hospital bed with scars across his chest and machines breathing beside him Dante stared at the ceiling and realized something terrifying. For the first time in his life, he wanted to live. Not for power. Not for legacy. Not for revenge. For a woman who wasn’t his fiancée.

He hated that he had become their best tool for brute force. Halden met his eyes. No apology, no softness—just fact. “Can you open it?” Dante nodded once. “Back up.” Elara descended the last rungs and pressed close to him, her breath visible in the cold. “Slow,” she whispered. “Don’t spike. Don’t—” “I know,” Dante said, though he didn’t know if he meant don’t spike your physiology or don’t become what it wants. Maybe both. He gripped the wheel and began to turn.

I didn’t think I’d meet up with him, but if he put in the effort to come see me, I’d make time for him. Then there was Dane. Goddess, just his name had me clenching my thighs together. He was a high risk, but I swiped right on Dane because he was everything I had ever wanted, fantasy-wise. And if I ever met up with him, that’s all it would ever be: a fantasy. When I picked a book off of my TBR shelf to read the dirtiest, smuttiest, violent-filled dark romance novel, I pictured a man like Dane. Yeah, he’s my favorite too.

“The one who leaves bruises on your hips. The one who fucks you like he owns you.” Elara yanked her hand away. His cock stood half-hard now, thick and heavy. She stepped back until she hit the wall. “How do you know about that?” she asked, voice breaking. Dante sat up slowly. “I make it my business to know things. Especially about the only woman who can touch me without pain.” Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs. Wetness soaked through her panties. The fear should have made her run. Instead, it made her want to step closer.

“I want more.” Dante lifted his head, his dark stare searching for mine. Lifting my head, I nodded. “Fuck, Camila, I could get off listening to the erotic noises you make.” “I want you inside me.” Scooting up to the headboard, I leaned forward reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re in charge, Dante. I’m fine with that. I just want to feel you, your body over mine.” I lifted his shirt, revealing the peaks and valleys of his toned abdomen. Spreading my fingers, I ran my palms over his broad shoulders, down his muscular arms. There were stories written in his scars and his strength, stories I could spend a lifetime learning.

Slowly, my head raised and my eyes met with the sexy,ruthless mafia lord dressed in all black. Dante. His eyes settled into mine. For a second, I got lost in them, forgetting the situation I was in, forgetting about Isabel’s wrath. His eyes slowly left mine, gazing lower and settling on my bare skin. Only then did I remember I was completely naked. Heat rushed through my cheeks. And my hands clamped across my body, ashamed of the fact that I was naked before him. I could still bear the humiliation of standing naked before everyone, but with Dante, the guy that stole my first kiss,I can’t.

“Mhm.” “You’re annoying.” “And you hit people.” He said. “You deserved it,” I added. Surprisingly, the man laughed despite still looking mildly injured and annoyingly he was actually kind of attractive when he smiled. “I’m Dante, by the way,” he said finally. “Before you attack me again.” I hesitated before answering. “Zara.” “I know.” That made me pause. “You do?” He gave me a look. “You live in Matteo’s house. You think nobody talks?”