Novel & Cerita In The Hand Of Dante Book

I got lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations they were arousing in my body. Finally, Dante pushed me to the and I landed with a thud, my breathing heavy. "Hands above your head." He ordered tersely and I immediately obliged, putting my hands above my head. He constrained them with one hand of his, pushing my thighs apart with his knee and settling himself between them. I struggled to force air into my lungs, the hunger in my blood feeling insatiable.

I don't know how we managed to leave the club when neither of us could take our hands off each other but we made it to his Mercedes where I performed a much needed handjob. " You have a beautiful home," I murmur admiring a nude sculpture of a woman in the middle of the hallway. Dante doesn't reply right away , instead he comes behind me, his hard length poking my butt. His big hands wrap around my waist, he pulls me closer and what ever sassy sentence I had in mind dies. Hot breath snakes over my neck and I let out a small whimper. Dante's hand move over the slope of my shoulders, feathery strokes brushing my bare skin. I throw my head backward, grabbing a fist full of his hair as my lips pa

"Love is like a torch, burning brightly and felt deeply. But, Xander, I didn't feel your love. If I didn't feel it, it didn't exist. What's the point of talking about love now?" Why would anyone who truly loved someone repeatedly make them feel heartbroken? Natasha rushed over, shoving me. "Cynthia, you slut. How dare you speak to Xander that way?" As she pushed me, the flame, which was still flickering, burned my left hand. Before I could say anything, Xander immediately grabbed my hand, blowing on it worriedly. "Cynthia, are you okay?" He then turned to Natasha, pointing at her. "Are you crazy? Apologize to Cynthia right now!"

I don't know how we managed to leave the club when neither of us could take our hands off each other but we made it to his Mercedes where I performed a much needed handjob. " You have a beautiful home," I murmur admiring a nude sculpture of a woman in the middle of the hallway. Dante doesn't reply right away , instead he comes behind me, his hard length poking my butt. His big hands wrap around my waist, he pulls me closer and what ever sassy sentence I had in mind dies. Hot breath snakes over my neck and I let out a small whimper. Dante's hand move over the slope of my shoulders, feathery strokes brushing my bare skin. I throw my head backward, grabbing a fist full of his hair as my lips pa

His lips were warm, slightly damp, and the tenderness of the action sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Dante felt the slight tremor in her hand, and it made his smirk deepen just a little. He didn’t rush to let go. Instead, he held her hand still, his thumb grazing lightly over her knuckles. The touch was slow, deliberate. With featherlight movements, he started tracing invisible patterns on her skin—small, lazy circles and delicate lines that made her fingers twitch.

To laugh at my predicament. With unwavering obstinacy, I locked eyes with him while drawing nearer. As if taunting the gods, he stretched out his hand, a sardonic smirk gracing his lips. Tentatively, I surrendered my hand into his massive palm, sensing Dante's presence looming behind Silvio. In an unexpected revelation, the touch sent a surge of warmth cascading down from my fingertips to my very core, prompting me to discover the iciness that had settled within my toes.

I'm on display, for Dante and Dante alone. He's perfectly in control until the tailor's assistant, a man in his twenties, touches me in a way Dante disapproves of. His hand lands on the curve of my butt, just checking some measurement, and Dante is up out of his chair like a shot, his hand clamping down over the young man's wrist. The assistant's eyes widen, and I can see fear blooming in them. Dante says something to him, his voice low, but I can't make out what he says.

Lorenzo snarled, swiping at Robert and carving claw marks into his shirt as he sent him flying and focused on his new target. “Give me the book! Now!” he screamed, his many voices so loud that I had to cover my ears and just in time too because I heard glass shatter in the distance. Dante glared at him, the book tucked securely under his arm. “If you want it so bad, come and get it!” Without hesitation, Lorenzo pounced on Dante but he was too late. He passed the book to me and grabbed Lorenzo, pinning him down to the ground. “Let go of me! Now!”

Dante. He’s sitting beside me, the divider is now open, head tipped back, lashes dark against his skin. The scar near his temple catches the dim blue light, sharp enough to make my stomach twist. He looks peaceful—almost human—and it pisses me off that even like this, he’s beautiful. His hand hangs between the seats, fingers twitching against the armrest. That hand. I can still see it in flashes—blood slick between his knuckles, gripping my skin while his teeth bared and my name tore out of his mouth like a threat.

My mind was somewhere else; it was on a certain man Dante