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Again, he doesn't look at me, but I can see the smile on his lips as he slowly, torturously slowly, slides one finger into me. "Ahh," I breathe.
He slides the finger in and then out, repeating the delicious torture until I'm squirming.
"I need more, honey," I say. "I need you."
"And you'll have me." His eyes finally meet mine. They're devilish with a small smile hidden there. "Eventually."
And then his mouth is on me, sucking my clit as his tongue laps at me, two fingers now fucking me.
"Shit!" I shout, my hips moving to try and get more from him, to demand more. But I don't tip my head back, despite the overwhelming pleasure.
I don't close my eyes.
Because while he fingers me, while he eats me, his eyes are locked to mine.
"Dante, I'm going to come," I whisper moments later, even though it hasn't been long at all.
I can feel the smile on my pussy.
See it in his eyes.
He stops, sitting back on his heels as he wipes his mouth on his forearm.
"Dante!" I say, frustrated in more ways than one. "I was close!"
He stands, moving to me and lifting me off the desk by my hips, turning me so we're back to front as a hand moves my hair over one shoulder. His face moves to my ear when he speaks there.
"You'll be coming on my cock, fiorella."
Everything in me melts, especially when he presses between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend over his desk. I lie there, the sealed wood cold through the fabric of the corset he hasn't taken off me, and hear his hands moving, undoing a belt.
And then the head of his cock is running along my slit, the head popping into my entrance before he repeats the move again. Up, down, in. I try to move my hips back to get more, but his hand moves to my hair, fisting it and tugging until I'm staring at the ceiling.
"Remember that I am yours, Delilah. I exist on this planet to please you," he says before slamming into me, drawing a loud cry from me as he does.
He pulls out, slamming into me again, and I moan his name.
"That's it. Say my name."
"Please, Dante. Please!" He moves to bend over me.
“Who do I belong to, Delilah?” he says in my ear, his back lining mine as he continues to pound into me, my hips hitting the mahogany with the force. “Tell me. You fucking know whose I am.”
His demand is hot in my ear, his breathing heavy, but it also reminds me that I'm still fucking angry. That bitter jealousy still stirs in me, not yet appeased by an orgasm.
“Do I, Dante? Do I know that?” I say through gritted teeth, trying not to moan the words. He groans a sound that has me tightening around him before he pulls out and stands up. I look behind me, baffled, as he steps back, his pants not even fully down, just pushed enough to get his cock out. “Dante, What the fuc— Oh!”
His hands move to my waist, turning me before he picks me up and places my bare ass on his desk, then he places his hands on my thighs and widens my legs so much, it’s almost painful. But any pinch is overtaken by him slamming back in.
“You want to question whose I am, fine. But you’ll do it looking in my goddamned eyes while I fuck you, telling you who the fuck you are to me."
“Dante,” I moan, his hand going into my hair and tugging until I’m forced to look into his eyes.
“You are mine. I’ve never had anything that is mine until you, and I do not fucking plan on losing that. But more importantly, Delilah—” He pulls out and slams back in, and my eyes drift shut at the deliciousness of it. His hand tightens in my hair again until I open my eyes. “Most importantly, I am fucking yours. Yours and only yours.” Again, he pulls out and thrusts in brutally. “Do—" Thrust. "You—" Thrust. “Fucking—" Thrust. “Understand me?” he says, then he continues his assault on my body, the pleasure ratcheting up, his face moving to my neck, licking and biting. Leaving a mark, I’m sure. “I am so fucking crazy for you. I would tear down my entire family, burn it to the ground if you asked me to, Lilah. You don’t get it.” His hand releases my hair and the arm wraps around my waist as the other drifts to my hip, moving in until his thumb gently lands on my clit, and I moan.
“You don’t get it. I can’t breathe. I can’t function. Every move I make is on your chess board. You are my queen.” The pressure on my clit increases, and the pleasure in my belly starts to curl in on itself as I move, wrapping my legs around him because I need him closer. My hand slides up to his neck, wrapping around the back, holding him, and something changes in me.
The anger and frustration melts as I look into his eyes because gone is the joking. Gone is the teasing and the smiles.
