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Pulling her on top of him, Dante lay back against the pillows.
“Touch me,” he whispered.
He guided her hand to slide down his chest to the hardness between his thighs, and Annabelle took delight in hearing him haul a harsh, ragged breath into his lungs. He was hot and warm in the palm of her hand. She stroked him from base to tip, all the while letting her mouth explore the saltiness of his skin. His firm pecs, the rigid peak of an erect nipple, and the fascinating lines making up his abdomen.
His dick sat up straight and erect, thick and beautiful in a base of dark hair. Annabelle licked its full length, watching from the corner of her eye as Dante’s fingers curled into the sheets. He didn’t make much noise when they made love, but his reactions told the full story. She plucked the mushroomed head between her lips and moaned when she tasted precum. Pulling him deeper, she held him with one hand and slid the other between her thighs, stroking her drenched clit in tandem with the up and down motion of her mouth.
Dante’s labored breathing filled her ears, and his clenched fingers yanked the sheets as if he aimed to tear them from the mattress. Her mouth stretched from his girth, and she continued sucking, squeezing, and moaning, high off the knowledge she could bring this powerful, handsome man to the brink of self-control.
His body trembled, signaling he neared release, but one minute Dante was clawing the linens, and the next, he was gripping her long plait.
His dark eyes glittered at her with resolve. “Ven aquí,” he commanded.
Without waiting for her to move, he hauled her up his body and rolled her onto her back. His weight came down, and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that devoured and demanded with searing intensity.
Dante delivered sucking kisses to her sensitive throat and collarbone, and Annabelle whimpered at the sensation of his firm lips against her heated skin. Lower he went, in between the valley of her breasts.
His warm breath on the underside of her breasts made her nipples tighten. Biting her lip, she twisted against him and closed her eyes, arching her back in a silent plea to pull her nipple into his mouth.
Finally, he gave her what she wanted. Gentle sucking at first, which threatened to drive her mad. He took his time with each breast, paying homage to each achingly swollen dark peak with his tongue. She could hardly stand the gentle pressure, but when he sucked hard, she gasped out loud and sank her nails into his muscled shoulders.
“Ah, querida, mi cielo, mi reina,” he said in a guttural voice.
Cupping her mound, he let his fingers play with her clit and stroke the folds of her wet sex. Fisting the sheets, she moved her hips in undulating waves against the movement of his hands. She was dizzy with desire, almost incoherent as he continued to torture her.
Kissing him was not enough. Being touched by him was not enough. Sucking him was not enough. Annabelle needed more and begged for it in a hushed, cracking voice filled with need. But he refused to give her what she wanted, easing lower and taking his time with his exploration.
Dante shaped the curve of her hips with his hands and lingered on the flat plane of her stomach. Then he made her belly quiver as he circled her navel with his tongue and whispered Spanish words of adoration and desire.
He kissed the butterfly tattoo on her hip and gently gnawed the sensitive flesh at the crease of her thighs. Everywhere he touched, electricity crackled under her skin and sparked fire to her nerves.
Dante nudged her legs wider, and her breath hitched in anticipation of his next move. She lay splayed open to him. Her throat tight. Her body rigid. Then his mouth was on her—and his tongue followed. Knowing. Searching. Demanding. That wicked pink snake, as wicked as its owner, glided along her wet slit. Her head tossed from side to side. She could barely stand the sensation of the intimate caress—so deliciously carnal—she became disoriented in the throes of pleasure.
Dante’s hands on her hips kept her firmly in place. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t edge backward to give herself reprieve. She simply had to take what he offered. A careful, calculated tongue-fucking.
She climaxed with one hand against the back of his head and one leg thrown over his shoulder.
He didn’t stop.
He continued to devour her until another orgasm tore up her spine, sending her spiraling into ecstasy. Her own hands squeezing her aroused breasts to magnify the effects of the orgasm. It was as if a volcano had erupted inside her body, and she released gasping moans in the aftershocks of the explosion.
When Dante finally lifted his head, she was exhausted. Spent. Boneless and limp.
He kissed his way up her belly to the sensitive spot at the side of her neck.
“¿Te gusta?” he asked.
“God yes.Yes,” Annabelle whispered in a shaky voice.
She wrapped her arms around him and ran her palms up his muscular back. His body was magnificent. Tight muscle covered in smooth skin, all the way down to his tight rear end.
Dante started making love to her again, more slowly this time. There was less urgency as they kissed and caressed each other.
They faced each other, lying on their sides, and Dante pulled one of her legs across his muscular thigh. He inserted a finger into her wet core, and Annabelle bit her lip, toes curling at the gentle intrusion. He followed with another finger and gently pumped them in and out of her, using a slow dragging motion that tortured as much as it titillated.
Unbelievably, her desire built to a boiling point again, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Please, please.”
“Please what? Tell me what you want.”
