5 – When the Beast Breaks

Ava's POV

Dante thought he had won.

That he could touch me, tease me, leave me trembling against that wall, desperate for him—and then walk away like he wasn’t affected.

Like I was the only one burning.

But I saw it.

The way his fingers flexed when he released me. The way his breath had hitched when he discovered I wasn’t wearing panties. The way his control had almost snapped.

He wanted me just as badly. He just refused to admit it.

But if he thought I would crumble, that I would simply obey and let him dictate when and how this would happen…

He was wrong.

Because tonight, I was going to make Dante Blackthorne lose control.

The Ride Home – Unfinished Business

The car was silent on the drive back to the penthouse, the hum of the engine the only sound between us.

Dante sat beside me, one hand resting on his thigh, the other gripping the wheel. His jaw was set, his expression blank. Unreadable.

But I wasn’t fooled.

His grip was too tight, his knuckles white against the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

His shoulders too tense, the fabric of his suit jacket pulling slightly over the hard planes of his muscles.

The air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension, a current of electricity buzzing between us.

He was still thinking about it. About me. About the way my body had melted under his hands, the way I had gasped his name like a whispered plea.

I smirked, shifting slightly in my seat, letting my dress slide up just enough to expose the smooth curve of my thigh. The silk brushed against my skin, cool and decadent.

His fingers twitched on the wheel.

Good.

I reached up, tucking my hair behind my ear, tilting my head slightly, exposing the soft column of my throat. My pulse thrummed beneath my skin, a deliberate temptation.

His breathing changed—subtle, but noticeable. A sharp inhale through his nose, as if he were reining himself in.

I turned to face him, my voice soft but intentional. “You didn’t finish what you started, Dante.”

His jaw clenched. “Watch yourself, Ava.”

I ignored him, my fingers drifting to my knee, tracing slow, lazy circles against my skin, each touch sending small ripples of anticipation through me.

“I was so close,” I murmured, my voice laced with unfulfilled need. “And you just… stopped.”

His grip on the wheel tightened, the muscles in his forearm flexing.

I dragged my fingers higher, featherlight touches along my inner thigh. “It’s not very polite to leave a woman like that, you know.”

The car swerved sharply to the side of the road.

Tires screeched against the pavement, my heart slamming against my ribs as Dante threw the car into park.

I barely had time to react before he was on me.

One hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back, exposing my throat. The heat of his breath ghosted over my skin, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

His other hand gripped my thigh, fingers digging into my bare skin, possessive and unyielding.

My breath hitched.

His voice was low and lethal, like a blade wrapped in velvet. “You think this is a game?”

I smiled, heart pounding. “If it is, I’m winning.”

His eyes darkened dangerously, an untamed hunger flashing beneath the icy blue.

Then, before I could take another breath, he ripped open my seatbelt, pulled me onto his lap, and crushed his lips to mine.

The Breaking Point

The kiss was brutal. Desperate. Consuming.

He kissed like he was punishing me, like he was taking back the control I had stolen.

His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make me moan against his lips. The sharp sting sent a thrill through me, a pulse of heat curling low in my stomach.

“You wanted this?” he growled against my mouth, his breath hot and uneven. “You wanted me to lose control?”

I gasped as his hands slid under my dress, gripping my ass, pulling me closer until I could feel him—

Hard. Thick. Dangerous.

“Yes,” I whispered, breathless, the word tumbling from my lips like a confession.

His teeth grazed my lower lip, a tease, a warning, a promise of what was to come.

Then his hand wrapped around my throat.

Not tight. Just enough. Enough to remind me that he was still in control.

My pulse raced against his palm, my breath shuddering between us.

“You’re playing with fire, little one.” His voice was molten heat, his lips brushing against mine, teasing without giving in.

I exhaled shakily, the need inside me a tangled mess of anticipation and defiance. “Then burn me.”

Something snapped in his gaze.

Dante growled, spun me around, and bent me over the backseat.

The leather was cool against my palms, a stark contrast to the burning heat of his body behind me.

My dress was pushed up in one swift motion, the air brushing over my bare skin, sending goosebumps racing across my thighs.

He traced a single finger up my slick folds, slow and deliberate.

I whimpered, my hips arching into his touch, seeking more.

His breath was a hot whisper against my ear, teasing. “Look at you. So wet for me.”

I arched back against him, desperate, my body aching for more. “Dante—”

His fingers slid inside me. Deep. Slow. Possessive.

I gasped, my body clenching around him, my legs shaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He chuckled darkly, his free hand gripping my hip, holding me still. “Not so confident now, are you?”

I moaned shamelessly, grinding against his hand, chasing the release he was so cruelly withholding.

He set a ruthless pace, his fingers pumping, curling, teasing—bringing me higher and higher, just on the edge of shattering.

I was seconds away from falling apart.

And then—he stopped.

The sudden loss of friction made me cry out in frustration, my body trembling with need. “Dante—”

He pulled me back up, turning me to face him, his expression dark and unreadable. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered the cruelest thing imaginable.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

I whimpered, my entire body throbbing, drowning in frustration and raw need.

Dante smirked, the devil incarnate. “This is what happens when you play with fire.”

He adjusted his tie, completely composed, while I sat there, legs shaking, body aching, my own desire a merciless torment.

Then he leaned in, his breath warm against my lips, his voice dripping with dark promise.

“You wanted me to break?”

His gaze burned into mine, a silent vow of what was to come.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I sat in that car, panting, unsatisfied, completely undone.

And I realized something.

Dante might have control right now.

But I wasn’t done playing.

If he thought he could tease me, push me to the edge, and then leave me like this—aching, desperate, powerless—he had another thing coming.

Because I knew something he didn’t.

I wasn’t just fire.

I was the match.

And I was about to set his world ablaze.