All Chapters of Stalked By My Boyfriends Best Friend: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Dante POVI shift, rising above her, my body hovering over hers, feeling her breathless heat. My lips crash against hers in a fierce, bruising kiss as I thrust myself into her in one swift motion. Her back arches beneath me, her hands clawing at my shoulders, digging into my skin as I fuck her harder, faster, deeper. Her moans are muffled against my mouth as I claim her, my tongue exploring her mouth, matching the rhythm of my hips as we both race toward the edge of madness. Her nails rake down my back, sending a flash of pain that only heightens my pleasure. I growl against her lips, the primal need to possess her completely consuming every rational thought. Her body responds to every movement, her hips meeting mine with an urgency that drives me wild. I can feel her pulse against me, her heart hammering in sync with mine, as if our bodies are communicating in a language only we understand. Grasping her chin, I tilt her head back, staring down at her, but her eyes are still closed.

Luna’s POV Fury blazes through my veins, scorching me from the inside out. Every inch of my body feels like it’s vibrating with anger as Dante drags me through the dimly lit hallways, indifferent to my struggle. He doesn’t care—about my fear, my defiance, or my will. I’m nothing more than something for him to control, and the way he acts makes me want to scream. But the tape over my mouth keeps me silent, suffocating my rage. The elevator doors slide open, and when we step into the room, my stomach churns, an overwhelming sense of dread hitting me like a tidal wave. It’s worse than I could have imagined. The room is like some twisted dungeon—dark, sultry lighting, shadows dancing across the walls, soft red lights casting an eerie glow. My eyes scan the space, taking in the sight of a couple near the corner. A woman is bound to a St. Andrew’s cross, while a man and another woman caress her, their hands moving over her body like they’ve done it a thousand times. The sounds of moani

Luna POVI feel conflicted, like I’m stuck between two versions of Dante—the one I hate and the one they’re trying to show me. But how can I reconcile those things? I don’t know what to believe anymore. Lost in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, I struggle to break free from the belief I’ve clung to for so long—that Dante was somehow just like the man responsible for my mother’s death. The thought has been my anchor, my way of surviving in a world that often felt too dark to understand. But now, faced with the man he is in front of me, clean and composed, it’s as though everything I thought I knew is unraveling. How do I reconcile this image of Dante—the protector, the savior of women—with the man I’ve spent years hating? Can I even begin to trust him? My gaze flickers around the room, desperate to escape the weight of my thoughts. It lands on a couple, their bodies entangled in raw, intimate acts, and I feel a mix of disgust and—God help me—curiosity. The realization that I’m si

Dante’s POV I never intended to kidnap her. But here we are, and everything’s gone to shit. I’ve been so consumed by Luna, by my need to have her, that I didn’t see the bigger picture. I made a colossal mistake, and now it’s catching up with me. Justin was right there, in her apartment. All I had to do was handle the situation, put my fucking cock away, and think. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted him to know she was mine—to shove it in his face. And that was beyond fucked up. Before, I wouldn't have, but these past few days, his silence, his possible connections to everything, made me hate him. The message I sent to Callum was no better. My head was wrapped up in Luna, in fucking her, in marking my territory, and I wasn’t thinking straight. The message was a jumbled mess, completely useless, so no one checked to see if Justin was hanging around her place. And now, I’m left picking up the pieces, wondering how the hell I missed everything that’s been going on. I’ve got someone t

Dante POVHer pace quickens, her body now slamming into mine with a new urgency. Her breath comes in shallow, hurried gasps as she kisses me with fierce intensity, her tongue pushing into my mouth, desperate, hungry. I meet her halfway, kissing her back with everything I have, my hands moving to grasp her hips, helping her move faster, harder. I keep my eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of emotion cross her features, every twitch of pleasure that ripples through her body. I have to fight back speaking, all I want to do is whisper dirty things to her, but I feel that might push her back into the space where she closes her eyes. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can feel her pulse quickening, matching the frantic rhythm of our bodies. It’s intoxicating—being this close, feeling her this way. She’s not just fucking me. She’s claiming me, too. I groan again, deeper this time, as the pleasure builds inside me. Her body clenches around me, and I know she’s close, teet