Dante's Fire(13)

He groaned and met her halfway. Their tongues tangled together, the  heady taste of him assaulting her senses. Fire thrummed through her  veins as his hands slowly slipped underneath her t-shirt to touch the  bare skin of her belly. She sucked in her breath at the feel of his  roughened fingers, inches away from the burning heat between her legs.  Those hands coasted upward to her breasts, brushing against her hardened  nipples with light strokes. Selina arched and cried out for more,  nothing in her vision except the man in front of her, with his dark eyes  and delicious touch and gentle heart.

He cupped her breasts in both hands, rubbing, massaging. Her nerve  endings hummed and her arousal twisted higher. This was a simple  exchange of giving pleasure, and she sunk deep into the release, letting  her body take over while her mind finally surrendered. He nibbled on  her bottom lip, soothed with his tongue, while his thumbs flicked the  tip of her nipples and coaxed them to grow tighter and harder.

Selina wrapped her arms around him and hung on. His skin felt like steel  encased in satin as she ran her fingers over his back and the muscles  rippled. "More," she whispered. Urgency and the heady sense of freedom  pushed her onward. "Please."

"You okay?" He asked the words through gritted teeth. Power surged over  her - he wanted her. This was more than just a man helping a woman  release her demons. He wanted her on a basic level of a man to a woman,  and she gloried in the knowledge.

"Yes. Touch me. Put your mouth on me."

He muttered a curse and slid her shirt up. Lowered his head. Licked the  hardened tip of her breast with slow, careful strokes. Liquid fire  pulsed between her thighs in sheer demand. As if he knew she was ready,  he opened his mouth and took her nipple between his lips and sucked.

"Dante!"

His other hand slid down her belly, hooked under the elastic of her  panties and settled over the tight curls. Wet and pulsing for his touch,  she opened her thighs in an unspoken invitation, confident she could  stop at anytime. But she didn't want to stop, needed to feel his fingers  inside of her, just once...

He lifted his head from her breasts. "Look at me."

Eyes glazed, waiting for his intimate touch, she obeyed.

His voice oozed over her like hot caramel in sensual demand. "Me. Only me. Not them."

"Not them."

He slid one finger into her tight heat. She cried out at the delicious  sensation and liquid warmth rushed to greet him. He muttered in  satisfaction as he drew his finger in and out, teasing the tight bud as  sensation squeezed every muscle in her body. His name broke from her  lips as he moved over her, inside her, bringing her closer to blessed  release.

"Let yourself feel, sweetheart. Let me give this to you."

His thumb rubbed over her clit as his fingers worked their magic. Selina  poised on the edge of the cliff, sensations wracking her body and  pushing everything out of her mind except the promise of sweet release.

He thrust a third finger deep inside of her. Then delicately squeezed her clit.

Selina cried out as the orgasm took hold. Her body convulsed with sheer  ecstasy. He helped her ride out the wave, murmuring endearments as she  gave it all over to him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled  her in tight to his body. Selina slumped over him. Tears leaked down her  cheeks and she trembled in his embrace.         

     



 

He pressed kisses in her hair and let her cry, a mixture of release so  intense her insides felt cleansed. As she drifted toward slumber, she  whispered her last words.

"Please don't leave me tonight."

She fell asleep before she heard his answer.







The dream rose from within-the familiar scene unfolding and taking shape  in the misty fringes of slumber. Dante fought the image, but his  mother's voice whispered, urging him to walk forward, into the fog.



His mother led him forward through the park with urgency, as if she  sensed danger near. Her black hair fell thickly down her back as he  gripped her hand and trailed behind, the scents of rotten leaves and  musty earth greeting his nostrils. Dante didn't speak, understanding  they needed to get to the end of the path as shadows stole over the sun.

They came out from behind the trees - one, two, three large men. Hats  pulled down over their faces. Bulky arms and mean voices as they stopped  them in their path. His mother moved like lightning, but they were  stronger and faster. They pulled her off the path into the woods while  the third one pushed Dante to the ground, his young body useless in a  physical fight. He called the power of fire, but the man held his throat  in a viselike grip and he struggled for breath, struggled to focus on  drawing his senses together and causing a flame. His mother never  screamed but he heard low laughter, and ripped fabric. He cursed his  inexperience with his gift and called to the gods for help, but the  night remained silent other than the grunts of the men.

The grip around his throat loosened. Instead of calling on his power,  Dante managed a lucky punch that snapped the man's face back. Evil  glimmered. The flash of a knife appeared and he knew he might die.  "Wanna play, punk? How does this feel?" The blade came down and he  turned away. The man slipped and the knife zigzagged across his face,  tearing flesh and spilling fresh blood. Agony bit through him and pain  rolled over in waves.

Consciousness blurred. Time stopped. When he was released, the men  punched each other's arms in victory. Pointed at him. Laughed. He  crawled through rotten leaves and found his mother's body. Naked.  Bruised. Her face deadly still. Dante sobbed and covered her with the  ripped fabric, stroked her face and called for her over and over.

His hands touched blood. Hers. His. Mixed. She was dying. The men's  voices became distant. Rage roared and fired in his blood. His vision  blurred as the power shook through his body like an answering storm. His  hands reached forward toward the men as they walked away, and an  ancient curse rose from his lips in a language he only knew from a  dream.

Flames burned to life. The men screamed as fire rose from their arms.  Burnt flesh simmered in the air as the symbol cut deep and burned into a  scar to never be removed.

Sirens rang in the distance. The men ran, cries of agony and confusion  rattling in the fall evening. He sobbed as he lay over his mother and  she opened her eyes. Dark depths shone with gentleness, calm, knowledge.  Her voice rose and wrapped around him.

"It's my time, Dante. I will join your father and be happy. You have  found your destiny - your call to power. Women need your help. Find  them, heal them, and mark the ones who will burn in hell. This is a gift  of great responsibility. Through you, I will be avenged, and you will  save many. I love you, my child...I love you."

She slipped away to the gods to join his father and left him alone.

And he knew what he must do. Knew with every act of fire, he would avenge his mother's death. And would heal the innocent.

But he was always alone. Alone, alone, alone...

Dante's eyes flew open. The lingering remnants of the dream throbbed in  his head, and he sat up, his hands fisted over his eyes. For a moment,  he forgot where he was, until he noticed the soft female body pressed  close against him.

Selina.

What had he done? The lines of propriety blurred. He'd never gone as far  with a woman he set out to heal. Cuddling, talking, and safety were his  main concerns. His usual iron control failed the moment she responded  so sweetly, giving her body to him in complete trust. Had he let her  down? Had he failed?

Dante shuddered. He wanted to claim her for his own. Instead, he'd  brought her to orgasm, watching her face as she shattered in release.  The image of her attack had faded from her mind, and he shook with the  power to bring this woman to the brink and beyond.

She begged him to stay. He'd only meant to wait until she fell into a  deep sleep before disappearing, but the temptation to wrap his arms  around her and catch a few hours was too great. Was the dream a sign he  had failed to protect her?

"Bad dream?"

Her voice floated up in the darkness and enclosed him in crushed velvet.  He breathed in the heady scent of sandalwood and feminine arousal. "I  guess we all have them."         

     



 

"Even superheroes?" He turned and studied her face. Her jeweled eyes  held questions. She lifted her fingers to trace the edge of his mask.

Dante wondered if the others looked upon themselves as superheroes. Most  of the time he felt battered, alone, and world weary. He couldn't fly,  stop bullets, and had no cool gadgets. He was human, not immortal. He  knew there were others with different types of magic - men and women who  controlled earth's elements, able to help humankind in their own unique  ways. Dante had never met them - only knew they existed. Chase had  urged him many times to try to search for the others, but how did you  possibly do it? Hire a private detective to find hidden superheroes that  helped humankind? He wished he could start a therapy group for people  like him, and then pushed the thought aside to answer her question.