Dial a Stud: Dante's Story (17 page)

Fortunately he must be a man who liked a long shower, and while he was in the bathroom, I found fresh sheets for the bed, dressed in his t-shirt again, and quickly sent a text to Mel. I thought about ringing her but it was now only nine o’clock, and chances were, she wouldn’t be up.

With her potentially busy, and I me still needing to speak to Dante, I didn’t want to risk being held up on the phone.

Once I’d sent the text, I headed for the kitchen again. Now he was awake, he should eat. He might not want to eat, but he was a big, strong man, he needed something to get his strength back.

I started rummaging around in his kitchen again, to work out what to prepare for him, and wondered if his stomach would be able to handle poached eggs.

I bent down, digging around in his fridge to see what he had, when I sensed I was no longer alone. I straightened, before turning slowly to face him.

He stood, propped up against the door frame, watching me. He looked better, but the way he leaned into the frame showed he was still weaker than he probably wanted to admit.

He had pulled on a pair of black sweat pants, and they should have looked awful. I hated sweat pants, but damn if the man didn’t make them look sexy. Or maybe it was just that he was so gorgeous, he would have made a hessian sack look sexy.

“You should sit down before you fall down.” I said, reluctant to look at him. This man messed with me in ways I wasn’t used to. I couldn’t look at him without feeling out of control. Even knowing he was sick, didn’t stop me from wanting to crawl up him, like a monkey up a tree, but I had to have more control than that. “You should also eat. What can I get you?”

“I’m not really hungry.” He straightened, and walked slowly across the floor until he could sit down at one of the bar stools.

“You need to eat to get your strength up. You’ve been sick. You have a lot of eggs. Would you like poached eggs?”

He seemed to pale at my suggestion. The man was still sick, that was obvious. “No food. Please cara, trust me on that. I will be sick if I eat.”

“Well, a drink then? One of your protein shakes, juice, something?”

A ghost of a smile tilted up his lips. “Please…no…nothing.” He paused for a moment. “Well, maybe a glass of water?”

I rushed to get him one, needing something to occupy me. I didn’t know what to do or say around him. Much as we needed to talk, he was sick, so this wasn’t the best time.

Once I gave him his drink, I wiped down the kitchen counter top and sink. In my nervous state, I dropped the dishcloth and without thinking, bent down to pick it up.

It was only when I heard a harshly indrawn breath behind me, that I realised I’d just bent over in front of Dante, and I had no panties on.

“Dio mio.” I heard the softly muttered words behind me. “Vi sara la morte di me.” I turned to him at the string of huskily spoken Italian. “You have no panties on? You’re wearing my clothes? Posso vedere la tua fica.”

“I wish you wouldn’t speak so much Italian. I can’t understand you.”

He flashed me a brief smile again. “That is as it should be cara. Believe me; you should not be in my head right now.”

His words piqued my curiosity. “Please, humour me. What did you say?”

Dante sighed, dropping his head into his hands, peering at me through his fingers. “You should learn when to leave well enough alone. You should also refrain from leaning over in front of a man, when all you are wearing is his t-shirt.” He dropped his hands from his face, his eyes looking more alert than they had earlier. “Seeing you naked, seeing that lush ass of yours and that sweet little cunt has made me aware that I may just live after all.”

I blushed at the realisation that he’d seen everything, when I bent over. Why that embarrassed me when he’d been there before, I wasn’t sure. Hell, the man had been up my ass for fuck sakes. That was about as intimate and invasive as a person could get with another one. I shouldn’t feel any embarrassment, under the circumstances, but I did. 

I frowned, not entirely sure what he meant by those words. When he pointed to his groin and I realised he was erect, I blushed again, feeling like my cheeks were on fire.

Despite my flaming face, I did do a mental eye roll all the same. Men, they could be nearly dead, and yet a bit of ass, pussy or boob and one bit of them at least, still had some life left in it.

“You’re still sick; you should go back to bed.” I suggested. I needed him out of the kitchen; being this close to him, was too intense. This man had a very powerful effect on me. I was attracted to him, I wanted him, but he was sick. The last thing he needed was me jumping his bones.

“Thank you for taking care of me cara. Will you stay with me? I still need to speak with you. I know you’re angry with me for taking advantage of you, instead of sending a couple of my studs.”

“I’m not angry with you any more Dante. I’m just confused. You said you have known me for a while, and yet I’ve never seen you prior to the night we danced. I don’t understand why you never introduced yourself. Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re a good looking man. I doubt I would have told you to bugger off, if you’d approached me.”

Dante shrugged, that now familiar hint of a smile flashing across his face. “Not everything is how it seems. Don’t be fooled by outward appearances Grace. There is a lot about me you don’t know. There is a lot about me you may very well understand, when I’m ready to share my life with you. Women look at this.” He waved a hand at himself. “They assume that if the outside packaging is pretty, that what is inside will be pretty too. That is not always the case.”

His words made me more curious about him. He was hinting that there was more to him than met the eye, and after seeing the state he’d been in, when he’d been in the grip of that nightmare, only proved there was a lot about him, I didn’t know.

“How about I help you back into bed? I’ve changed the sheets for you. You were soaked with sweat when you were feverish.” I walked over to him, and place the back of my hand on his forehead. He was still a bit warm. “You’re still a bit warm. Let me take you back to bed, and I’ll give you more Aspirin.”

He surprised me by raising a hand to my cheek, gently trailing a finger down to the corner of my lips. His touch left me feeling like my skin was on fire. Bloody hell; what was it about this man that affected me so much?

“You are so beautiful cara; bella signora Gracie.” He whispered, before slipping his hand into my hair, and cupping the back of my head. “I need to kiss you. Please, just a little taste.”

I met his eyes that looked back at me, with such intensity, as he waited for my reaction. I couldn’t answer him, I couldn’t pull away. In fact I was powerless to do anything, as I felt him apply enough pressure, to bring my head to his.

I didn’t realise I’d held my breath, until his lips finally touched mine. It was just the barest of touches, little more than a brush of our lips. He backed off from me slightly, his eyes meeting mine again, but all I could do was look at him, saying nothing.

He must have decided there was something in my expression that wasn’t telling him to back off, because he drew me to him again, and this time, it wasn’t a mere touch of his lips to mine. This time, he kissed me.

Feeling his lips on mine, their softness, their insistency as he demanded access to my mouth, I opened to him. The moment my lips parted, I felt his tongue slide into my mouth, and brush over mine.

It was a slow, sensual kiss, rather than passionate and demanding. He nibbled his way along my bottom lip, before sucking it into his mouth. He licked his way over my tongue, tasting me and I responded, my hands coming up to tunnel into his long silky strands.

I could have kissed him, all day he was so damn good at it, even allowing, for being sick. Eventually though, I had to pull back to drag much needed air into my lungs. He was out of breath too I noticed, but when he raised a hand to push his hair back off his face, I could see he was shaking.

Instantly I felt terrible. What the hell was I doing? The man was sick. He shouldn’t be kissing me. He should be in bed resting.

“Come let me help you back into bed.”

When he stood, I curled my hands around one bicep trying not to notice how hard it was. The man was a powerhouse, that’s for sure. Well, maybe not now, while he was sick, I thought when he sagged slightly, leaning into me.

Slowly we made our way back to his bedroom, and I left him standing alone briefly, while I turned the fresh sheets back, and indicated he should get into bed.

Once he was settled, I walked into his bathroom to get him water and more Aspirin. It was much easier getting him to swallow them this time, when he was lucid, and after he’d taken them, I returned the glass to the bathroom.

“Cara? Please, lie with me awhile.” Dante raised a hand to me, when I walked back into the bedroom.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Was that such a good idea? I looked into his eyes and that was my first mistake. There was such a look of pleading in those chocolate depths, I couldn’t say no to him.

With a sigh, I climbed in when he lifted the sheets, and slipped in by his side. That obviously wasn’t enough for him because he immediately dragged me closer. I ended up half lying on top of him, with his arms holding me tightly to him.

I felt him press his lips against my neck, his hands tangling in my hair, as he took a couple of deep breaths. Was he sniffing me?

He began to mutter in Italian again, as his hands moved over me, from my hair to just above my ass. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated; the movements of his hands more restless. There was one thing he kept saying, over and over again, and with each huskily spoken word, I could feel his touch becoming more demanding.

“Voglio scoparti, voglio scoparti. Perdonami, perdonami. Voglio scoparti Grace.”

“What’s wrong Dante? I don’t understand you. What are you saying? Please, I don’t understand.”

I felt him freeze, his body unmoving beneath mine, except for the frantic beat of his heart. Suddenly, without warning, he dragged me on top of him and I gasped. He was erect, fuck, he wasn’t just erect, he was as hard as iron beneath me.

His hands shifted to my chin, tipping my face to his, letting me see the desire raging in his eyes. “You want to know what I’m saying to you? You might prefer not to know, but you can feel me. I know you can. So, you want to know? You want me to tell you, what I’m saying, in English? I think you know cara, I think you can tell. I want you. I want to fuck you. I want to sink my cock so deep inside you, that I fill you as full of me as I can fill you. You make me feel again. You make me want again. You have awoken a need, a desire, in me, that I thought, I would never feel again. What I once did left me empty. It took away the desire, the need and the want. It was like being a robot, or on auto pilot. Sex was not enjoyable any more. I couldn’t feel pleasure any more. You, you my beautiful Grace have reawakened me. Let me love you. Let me in, please. I want you.”

I stared at him, at the plea in those beautiful, expressive eyes of his. Was he for real? He was saying that I was like some kind of saviour to him; that I had brought his mojo back. He’d said it far more eloquently than that, but the meaning was the same. He wanted to have sex with me. It was not a case of doing it because he was being paid to do it.

His hand cupped my cheek as I stared at him, torn, unsure what to do. “Please, don’t deny me. Your head is so busy right now, but you are not a passing fancy to me Grace. I have wanted you for a long time. I have admired you, the kind of person you are. You have faced the challenges life has thrown you, and survived. You have shown your strength, and yet, you have great compassion too. You are so beautiful. Please, I want you.”

Chapter Twelve

I found myself confused by his words. There was obviously something deeper going on here, but I knew, I couldn’t rush him to share with me. I’d learned that a long time ago. No one likes to be nagged and badgered to reveal their inner most thoughts, and Dante would be no different.

This man confused me so much, though. He was in a class of his own. I’d never met anyone like him before. I’d also never met anyone, who made me desire him as much as he did.

I knew when I looked at him again, as he waited for me to say something, I knew, I couldn’t deny him. Fuck, who was I kidding? I wanted him too. I was a sucker for a gorgeous face and, ugh, the look in his eyes. Who could say no to that face?

Immediately, I went into worry mode. Not so much worrying about myself, but worrying about him. He was sick. He’d only just improved enough, that he wasn’t burning up. He might not be up to this. Bad choice of words probably, when I could feel the ridge of his cock, under my leg, which proved he was up to it. Still, just because he could get hard, didn’t mean this would be a good idea. What if I exhausted him or he had a relapse?

What about protection? He’d come to my home that night with Alex, armed with dental dams and condoms, but I had nothing with me. I’d always used condoms with the various men I’d picked up. I was impulsive, not stupid. I didn’t want to risk disease and pregnancy? Well, that was a whole other story in itself, and before my mind could go down that path, I shut myself off, and turned my focus back on him.