Savage Little Games: Chapter 34

It’s been a little over two weeks with no sign of Madison. I’m impressed actually. With all the cameras everywhere nowadays, I have no clue how she snuck away without a trace. There’s been no sign of her in the city since the night she walked out. I hope she’s okay, and that she will at least call to let her father and sisters know she’s doing well.

Convincing Dante that she’s fine is impossible. He grows moodier each day, spending his free time in the gym sparring with Eli instead of with me. I was able to convince him to let the guards who were on duty live after he let Eli teach them a small, no doubt memorable, lesson. At least they’re still alive.

Those orgasms we once had to negotiate down to one are non-existent now. Not that I blame him. If it was Cole who had run away without telling me where he was or what he was doing, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

Thankfully, that’s not the case. And it reminds me of the conversation I’ve been putting off with Dante.

At dinner that night in the dining room, I interrupt the usual silence to say, “Cole is coming home for a visit this weekend. He’s flying in tomorrow.”

Dante’s fork pauses in pushing around his chicken marsala. “Oh, right. I had forgotten…”

“With everything going on, he can just stay in my apartment.”

“No. You want him to stay here. There’s plenty of room in the hotel.” In the hotel, right, because he wouldn’t dare let a twenty-year-old boy near his daughters. Not that I blame him. Boys will be boys and all that.

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t have to feel guilty that your son is safe and happy just because one of my daughters is missing.”

I wince at his words that feel like an accusation, as if he thinks I should feel guilty for Madison leaving because he blames me for the grown woman’s actions. Sure, she may only be the same age as Cole, but she’s old enough to be on her own. I survived on my own as a teenager with an infant son.

Since I don’t have anything to say in response to Dante’s words, I glance toward Sophie and Cass who barely eat more than three bites of dinner lately. “Would either of you mind if my son comes to visit this weekend? He won’t be sleeping in the penthouse, obviously.”

“Sure,” Sophie agrees, giving me a shrug.

“Whatever,” is Cass’s response without lifting her eyes from her plate.

“Great,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. “Could I maybe go pick him up at the airport Friday?”

“Fine,” Dante replies with a sigh. “I’ll have the guards take you.”

“Thanks.” Having the guards drive me is better than an absolute no from him.

I never thought I would miss the version of Dante that constantly flirts and teases me, but I do. While I don’t think he would let me leave if I asked, he doesn’t seem happy about me being here. I’m no longer a challenge for him to conquer. I’m the woman in his bed, in his house, whom he simply tolerates.

After the night Dante held me while we slept, there have been no more pillow walls, yet, he hasn’t even tried to touch me which is frustrating.

That’s why, that night, when we’re both settling into bed, I try to have a conversation with him, hoping to clear the air between us.

“If you’re not going to forgive me, then why do you want to keep me here?” I ask him softly in the darkness. “As a punishment?”

“If I were punishing you, you would know it,” he grumbles from where his head rests on his pillow, facing away from me. It’s as if he can’t stand to open his eyes at night and see a glimpse of me.

“What can I do, Dante?”

“Nothing. There’s not a fucking thing anyone can do to bring her back, is there?”

Sighing, I slide over to his side of the bed, molding the front of my body to his bare back, being the big spoon as I put my arm around his waist. My entire body is tense as I hold my breath, waiting for his rejection.

How ironic is that?

I came into this arrangement intending to hurt him, to reject him for seventy-six days in a row, and now here I am wanting him when he doesn’t want me. My rejection hurt him, more than I could imagine. I know that now.

But Dante doesn’t shove me away or tell me to get off of him, so I let my fingertips explore the lines of his abs, the trail of hair leading down into his boxer briefs. My lips are close enough to press kisses to his bare shoulder.

His stomach muscles tighten under my fingers, as if he’s at least somewhat affected by my touch.

“Maybe I can’t do anything, but you can,” I tell him. “Hurt me. Punish me. Fuck me. Just do something because I don’t want to be here anymore if you don’t want me.”

Dante’s heavy hand covers mine that’s on his stomach. Instead of pulling my palm off him, he slides it under his waistband to where he’s long and thick, tenting his cotton shorts. My breath hitches in surprise as I curl my fingers around his hot, smooth flesh.

“Does that feel like I don’t want you?” His voice sounds deep and rumbly, making my thighs clench together. His fingers surround mine to squeeze and stoke his shaft. “I have to jerk off every time I think about the sounds you make when I shove down your throat. I explode as soon as I look at the picture of you sleeping so peacefully with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

Holy shit. I love hearing him say I still arouse him. After he’s been so distant, I thought…wait a second. My hand stills on his erection. “Did you say picture?”

“Of course, I took a photo. It’s an image I never want to forget of what was almost a contender for the best day of my life.”

Would’ve been a contender if Madison hadn’t run off a few hours later.

“But don’t worry, I only sent it to Eli.”

“Eli!” I exclaim. Now I try to jerk my hand back from the bastard’s underwear, but Dante chuckles and holds it hostage.

“Oh, no. You have to finish what you started, butterfly.”

God, how I’ve missed that name. Even my stupid eyes and throat sting from hearing it again as I resume stroking Dante’s cock.

I want to ask him why he didn’t come to me if he was so damn horny, but then I realize why. He was angry at me. Thinking about me, my mouth, the photo he took of me before Madison left was the only comfort he would allow himself.

Removing his hand from mine, Dante stretches forward, turning on the bedside lamp before rolling to his back. His fingers come up on the back of my head, grabbing my hair to pull my mouth up to his.

I don’t just give him my mouth; I climb on top of him to kiss him. Our tongues meet forcefully, the first time we’ve kissed in two weeks. When Dante pulls my mouth off his we’re both gasping for air. He tugs my tee over my head and off, then tells me, “You know where I need your mouth. I want to fuck your throat all damn night.”

I nod eagerly as he grips my hair tighter, shoving me down his body. I crawl down on my hands and knees, rubbing my breasts down his stomach and bulge until my face is above his underwear. I jerk the cotton down greedily to get access to his cock. It bobs free for only a moment before I wrap my fingers around it to hold it still. My mouth covers his wide crown, sucking his head so hard my cheeks cave in. Dante groans as I taste his precum hit my tongue.

“Good girl. You know exactly what I like, what I need, don’t you? I’m going to own your mouth all fucking night.”

Normally I would lick his shaft up and down, teasing him. But not tonight. No, tonight he doesn’t want his dick to leave my mouth. He wants to hear me gag on it, to make me swallow his seed and keep him wet until he’s ready to do both of those things all over again.

And I want to do it for him. I want him to use my mouth, to use me however he wants, as long as he wants, because I want to make him happy, help him forget his worry for Madison at least for a little while. I’m not even sure why or how I got here.

The Vanessa who signed that stupid agreement that day in the basement would think I’m pathetic for wanting to suck the mafia king’s dick all night long. If Dante had asked me to do that the first night, there’s no way I would’ve agreed.

But now, things have changed. I’ve changed. Whether that’s good or bad, I’m not sure yet. All I know is that the way I feel about Dante isn’t something I’ve ever experienced before. I want him to keep me, to make me his, and never let me go.

The only thing that scares me is that all this may be wishful thinking that ends with a broken heart.

I don’t waste any more time worrying about that right now though. I can’t when I’m so horny I’ll combust as soon as my fingers graze my clit.

My hand moves down between my legs, but Dante says, “Don’t even think about touching yourself.”

I’m about to bite his dick in protest when his left leg brushes against mine that’s next to it.

“The only way you come tonight is on me. Now take your wet panties off.”

Understanding what he wants, I shove the thong, down my legs, kicking it off. Once it’s gone, I lift my leg to straddle his muscular one. When Dante lifts his knee, pressing the bone between my legs, applying pressure to that bundle of nerves, I close my eyes and groan around his shaft.

His knee lowers, causing my hips to immediately dip in search of it, making Dante chuckle. “Are you that needy, butterfly? So horny you want to hump my leg?”

I grind my pelvis down on his kneecap, not even caring what body part it is as I get closer to an orgasm.

Dante, eager for his own release, grabs the back of my hair to press my mouth down his cock, shoving to the back of my throat with a growl of satisfaction.

My orgasm crashes through me, my body engulfed by waves of pleasure while I’m still gagging. Tears slip from my eyes and drool slides down my chin while my thighs are still trembling. It’s all so fucked up. But it’s not the last time I ride the mafia king’s leg while he shoves down my throat. We barely get any sleep at all between rounds. No, I’m too busy caressing every inch of the man I can reach with my hands. And Dante, he stares down at me the entire time, stroking my face and hair. He looks at me like I’m the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world when in fact I’m a slobbery, sweaty, mess with one hell of a sore jaw by the time the sun comes up.

It’s all worth it, especially when Dante eventually slips from my mouth to worship me between my legs with his tongue, over and over again, until I pass out.