Inferno Page 6

  “Tell me why you left your ex-fiancé at the altar.” Dante’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  I cleared my throat, then placed my cup down on the saucer in front of me. “It was more a relationship out of convenience than anything else. Our parents were friends.” I hesitated, unsure how much I should tell Dante about my family, whether he was familiar with American politics at all. “As I’m sure you can imagine, since my parents liked to have a say in every other part of my life, they also had a say in who I could date…and marry.” I gave him a knowing look. “I never questioned it, although I should have. I’d lived my entire life bending to their will. I didn’t think there was any other option but to do as they said. My mother made me dye my hair blonde before my first date with Brock, for crying out loud. She said he preferred blondes.”

  “It sounds a bit archaic,” Dante commented, his leg brushing mine.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I said thoughtfully, then quickly added, “You have to understand, I didn’t grow up in a regular family.” I swirled my spoon around in my tea cup, needing to do something with my hands. “My father had a very public persona.”

  Dante lifted a brow, obviously intrigued.

  “I’d rather not say too much. It’s irrelevant to the point at hand. However, because of this, he was very concerned with how his family was perceived, right down to how we dressed, where we went, and who his daughter dated.”

  “Were you at least attracted to your ex?”

  I paused to consider his question, staring off into space. “I should have been at some point, shouldn’t I?” I returned my eyes to Dante’s. “I mean, how could I have allowed myself to be so manipulated as to agree to marry someone I didn’t even have feelings for? I guess I just didn’t know any differently. I remember hearing some of my college friends talking about the guys they were dating, how they’d buy them flowers, surprise them by standing outside their class when they got out. There was none of that with Brock. Hell, I was lucky if he remembered my birthday. I figured maybe it was because he was seven years older than me. We started dating when I was a freshman in college and he was finishing up his last year of law school.” I bit my lip.

  “I remember talking to my mother about it one time when I questioned whether I should call things off with him. Naturally, she didn’t exactly support the idea. All she said was that people in love seemed to forget what was important in life.”

  “And what would that be?”

  My eyes locked with his. I opened my mouth, pausing briefly. “I wish I knew.”

  “So you’ve never been romanced? Before fate intervened and our paths crossed…”

  I shot him a fake look of annoyance.

  “You’ve never felt the heat of a man’s eyes raking over every inch of you, making you squirm?” He lifted a brow.

  “Brock never made me squirm,” I answered with obvious disdain.

  Dante narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

  “What do you think I mean by that?” I shot back in a bold voice, giving him a knowing look.

  He opened his mouth, his eyes widening as realization washed over him.

  “Brock liked routine.” I looked forward, straightening my shoulders, fidgeting with the tea cup. “Throughout our relationship, we stuck to a preplanned schedule for when we’d have sex. Every Wednesday morning. He would set an alarm twenty minutes earlier than normal, roll on a condom, then get to it. No foreplay. No making sure I felt good. Nothing.”

  “You’re joking.”

  I raised my tea cup to my mouth. “I wish I were.”

  Dante shook his head, releasing a long breath. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably have the same reaction.

  “Brock never gave me an orgasm,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  “You just mean during sex, correct?”

  “No,” I answered, keeping my eyes trained on his. “I mean ever. Like I said, there was never any foreplay.”

  “None at all?”

  “None…at…all.”

  He leaned closer, his voice becoming softer and more sensual. “How long were you together?”

  “Ten long years.”

  “Was he your first?” He rested his hand on my leg, his fingers slowly grazing the skin around my knee.

  “Yes.” I inhaled a sharp breath from the feeling of his hand on my flesh.

  “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

  “Of course I have!” I insisted. “Just not at anyone else’s hand…other than my own,” I mumbled.

  “What would make you stay with someone like that?” A hint of curiosity crossed his brow.

  “I didn’t know any other way.” I knew it made no sense that someone who exuded the image of being put-together and secure, like I did, would put up with everything I had for so long. In truth, it never really bothered me…until recently. It was just part of my life. I had practically no say over my personal life, so I focused on things I did have control over, like my job. I had found happiness there. “I thought it was normal, thought all the stories my friends told me about their experiences were embellished.”

  “There is nothing normal about being with someone so selfish as to not make sure you were taken care of.” He scooted closer, his hand roaming my leg. “A relationship is supposed to be mutually beneficial for both parties.” His breath was hot on my skin as his lips drew closer to my neck. A heat burned in my stomach, the feel of Dante’s hand on my leg making my need for him grow with each passing second. “It’s supposed to involve some give, some take.” He lifted the skirt of my dress, his hand inching farther north.

  When he slid back my panties and began to tease my clit, I gasped. I shot my eyes to him, my breath hitching. “What are you—”

  He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breath warming me. “I plan to make sure you’re finally taken care of, Eleanor.”

  “But we’re in public,” I said in a throaty voice, making no move to stop what he was doing. I couldn’t remember ever being so aroused. My entire body ignited as his fingers ran my wetness over me, teasing me with his light touch. I discreetly spread my legs slightly, giving him better access. I had completely tuned out everything else around us — the clatter of china, the low conversation, the faint music. For all I knew, we were in our own private room and this was just the start of something incredible. If the way his fingers touched me with such cunning and deftness was any indication, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when we took this even further.

  “God, Eleanor,” he groaned. His husky voice sent a tremor down my spine. “Do you have any idea how amazing you feel? Do I make you this wet?”

  I closed my eyes, his words flaming a need I didn’t know I had. Brock had never so much as uttered a single word to me during sex. Dante was barely touching me, but the sensation of his fingers gliding over my center made me feel more fulfilled than I had during any previous act of intimacy. My mind was blank, too many different sensations rolling through me at once — pleasure, bliss, hunger, arousal, serenity…happiness.

  “Answer me, Eleanor,” Dante demanded. “Do I do this to you?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered, my chest rising and falling in a faster rhythm. I’d never felt so alive before. I knew this was so very wrong, but the electricity flowing through every inch of me made me not care.

  “Good.”

  When he pushed a finger inside, I had to bite back a moan.

  “You are so tight, Eleanor. I can’t wait to feel you pulsing around my cock when I finally give you exactly what you need.” He brushed his lips against my neck. “What you’ve been deprived of for too many years now. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” I exhaled, pulsing against his hand. My body was climbing higher and higher. I could almost see my release in sight. This all seemed like a dream…an incredible, erotic dream.

  “Me, too, Eleanor. God, I want that so bad.” He paused. “But not right now.” He abruptly pulled his hand away.

&nbs
p; I gaped at him, panting, disbelief filling my wide eyes. I was seconds away from crumbling into pieces and couldn’t believe he was going to leave me this wound up. “Wha—”

  “I want to hear you moaning my name when you come,” he said very matter-of-factly, as if this were a business negotiation. He scooted away, lifting his tea cup to his mouth, taking a sip. “I want you to let go of all your preconceived notions of what sex is supposed to be like. I want you to let yourself be completely free with me. You said you had no expectations. Well, I do. I want to give you your wings. I don’t want you to think sex is a taboo subject. It isn’t. It’s natural. It’s beautiful. It’s pure. You’re not free to fully express yourself here.”

  I blinked repeatedly, clenching my legs together to get some sort of relief from the pressure still building inside me. “So you’re just going to leave me like this?”

  “Hopefully not for too long.” He winked. “Now, tell me. What are your likes? Dislikes?”

  I avoided his eyes, my cheeks flushing a brighter shade of red than they already were as I squirmed in the booth.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you’re serious about this, I’d prefer to know what you like. What turns you on?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  “Surely you must have some sort of idea as to what makes you feel good.”

  I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. At twenty-eight, I was more than aware that I was rather inexperienced when it came to this kind of thing.

  When I remained silent, he pushed. “When I was just fingering you, what did you enjoy about it?”

  He sliced his fork into one of the decadent cakes and brought it to his mouth, acting as cool and collected as he always had, as if we were talking about something as mundane as the weather.

  “I don’t want you to be embarrassed, Eleanor,” he comforted me. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did it feel good when I had my hand up your skirt?” He placed his fork on the table, then brushed his fingers against my leg. It was such a subtle gesture, but my entire body became desperate with need. I wanted to grab his hand, shove it back up my skirt, and make him finish what he started.

  “I want to show you sex can be such a beautiful thing between two consenting adults, that there’s nothing wrong or embarrassing about discussing it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex. Too many people listen to their religions and think they’ve sinned by indulging in this perfectly normal act. Don’t.” He leaned closer, his teeth scraping my neck delicately. “Don’t feel guilty for listening to your desires.”

  I straightened my posture, drawing in a long breath. I could do this. This was just another negotiation. It was simply two mature adults discussing what they wanted to get out of this arrangement, nothing more. It was completely irrelevant that the topic was of a sexual nature.

  I’d mastered the art of remaining poised in this type of setting. Nothing Dante did could affect me. Not the way he looked at me with a depraved hunger in his eyes. Not the way he licked his lips, as if he’d been thirsty for days and had finally been led to water. Not the way his smooth voice crooning my name made a shiver trickle down my spine.

  “It felt good when you played with my clit,” I replied in an even, professional voice. “Well, good probably isn’t the correct word. It drove me crazy when your touch was light, barely there. I thought I was going to lose it, but in a good way.” I cracked a smile.

  “I take it no one’s ever done something like that for you before?”

  “That’s for sure,” I mumbled.

  “But you pleasure yourself, correct?”

  I raised my tea to my lips, feeling my short-lived resolve crack. I’d never met someone so bold, so confident in his sexuality as to ask these types of questions. As much as I wanted to treat this like any other negotiation, it was proving to be impossible. In every other negotiation I’d been a party to, I’d done my research. I knew my client’s file inside and out. Here, I felt like I’d been given the case two minutes before having to be in court and was now flying by the seat of my pants.

  “Yes,” I finally answered.

  “Do you use any toys?”

  “What? No!” I responded quickly, as if I’d just been accused of murder.

  “There’s nothing wrong if you have.”

  I sighed. “I don’t have any. I lived with Brock and—”

  “Say no more.” Dante put his hand up, interrupting me. “I have a feeling he wouldn’t take too kindly to it if he found them.”

  “He’d probably have a few choice words for me,” I muttered under my breath.

  Dante studied me, his gaze unsettling. Then he sighed, pushing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake toward me. “Here. Eat something.”

  “I’m not hungry.” My stomach was in knots. The anticipation had me completely unglued.

  “What have you eaten today?”

  “I had a few cups of coffee this morning.”

  “That’s a beverage. It doesn’t count.”

  “I also had some fruit. I’m not a big breakfast eater.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just not. And I don’t need you to tell me it’s the most important meal of the day,” I added with a smirk.

  “Then eat some cake.” He leaned toward me. “You need to have some energy for later.”

  “How much later?” I raised a brow.

  “You’ll see.” He winked.

  Huffing, I grabbed my fork and sliced into the cake, then raised it to my lips. My mouth watered as the aroma of chocolate, sugar, and vanilla met my senses. I slid the fork into my mouth, savoring the rich flavor.

  “Delicious, isn’t it?”

  “It’s no match for that gelato I had last night.” I passed him a coy look.

  “Duly noted.”

  A thick silence fell between us while we indulged in our cakes, making me restless. Dante, however, seemed to be completely unaffected by it. I began to think this was all part of his plan.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I finally blurted out after I’d eaten half the slice.

  “What do you mean?” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

  “Exactly what I said. Why are you making this elaborate deal out of having sex with me? I propositioned you. I showed up today to prove I was still interested, even without the influence of alcohol. So why all of this?” I waved my hand around the table. “Why can’t we just get down to business and get it over with?”

  “Get it over with?” he repeated slowly.

  “You have to know the anticipation is killing me right now.” I lowered my voice, trying to maintain my composure. “I was so close to coming before,” I said in a bold move. “Having to sit here is driving me crazy.”

  “It’s driving me crazy, too,” he admitted.

  “Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “You look like you’re ready to fall apart.” My tone oozed with sarcasm.

  “Don’t mistake my composure for not being affected by how alluring you are, how turned on I am by you.” He leaned in, his eyes searing me as he spoke in a seductive tone. “Every time I’ve raised my tea to my mouth, I’ve been treated to your scent on my fingers. Do you have any idea how much I want to throw you on the table and bury my face between your legs? To make your entire body shake from my touch, to bring you to heights you’ve never experienced?” His hand roamed to my thigh and he gripped it with more force than I expected. The initial shock made me gasp. It was somewhat painful, but I felt so much pleasure in that pain. “To know I was the first man to ever have the good fortune of tasting you? Of giving you an orgasm so intense, your mind becomes a blank slate, a complete slave to the rest of your body?”

  He pulled back, but his grasp on my leg remained firm. I had a feeling there would be a mark on it later. Something about Dante led me to believe that was the point. He wanted to mark me, claim me as his.

  Clearing his throat, he regained his composure, releasing his hold. “Like I said, you certain
ly affect me, too.”

  “Then why are you putting on this show? Why didn’t we just go somewhere more private?”

  “You’ve never experienced foreplay. In my opinion, that’s the best part.”

  “But this isn’t foreplay. This is just you being an insufferable tease.”

  “Ah, Eleanor, you are quite mistaken. This whole afternoon has been foreplay. It doesn’t have to be intimate, although that’s nice, too. Foreplay is all about building up the tension, about bringing each person to the brink of their breaking point, then shattering into tiny pieces.” His lips whispered against my neck, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “And I plan on shattering you.”

  Chapter Six

  “Where are we going?” I asked Dante after we finished our tea. I struggled to keep up with his long strides as he led me past the Spanish Steps.

  “To my place.” He gazed upon me with an almost predatory stare.

  My heart slammed against my chest, anticipation bubbling in my veins. I didn’t think I’d been this on edge when Brock and I had sex for the first time, which we’d planned beforehand. Afterward, all I could remember thinking was how I didn’t see what the big deal was. I had felt nothing, other than a dull ache…and not in a good way.

  Dante continued down a narrow street away from the Piazza di Spagna, then stopped outside an arched door. Withdrawing a set of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door, opening it, allowing me to enter in front of him. His dark eyes raked over every inch of me, every dip and valley, every curve, every freckle. I felt raw and vulnerable, but at the same time more protected and cared for than I ever had.

  Licking his lips as we stood in the small lobby of what appeared to be a luxury apartment building, he stepped toward me. I remained frozen in place, a tingle spreading through me from the wanton and shameless way he looked at me.