His mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is a desperate collision. He claims my mouth, his kiss desperate and absolute. I meet his aggression with my own, wrapping my arms around my neck and tangling my fingers into his short, dark hair. The dark ink covering his strong arms flexes and presses into my bare skin as he shifts his weight, pressing me flat beneath him.
My lips part with a loud moan as his teeth graze my lower lip. He tastes like adrenaline and dark coffee. His calloused hand reaches under the hem of his oversized henley and slides up my ribcage, his thumb tracing the underwire of my black lace bra. He does not bother with the clasp. Dante simply grips the delicate fabric and rips it down, freeing my breasts. The lace tears with a sharp sound that echoes in the dead hotel room.
"Beautiful," he growls against my throat. His rough beard scratches the sensitive skin of my neck, sending electric shocks straight down to my core. "So damn soft. So fucking perfect."
His hot mouth closes over my right nipple. A gasp rips out of my throat. Dante sucks hard, his tongue lashing against the tight peak. The sensation is blinding. I arch my spine, pressing my chest deeper into his mouth, silently begging for more. My hands grip his broad shoulders, feeling the tension bunched in his muscles. He pulls away just long enough to capture my other breast, giving it the same ruthless, worshipping attention.The pull of his mouth sends an aching throb directly between my legs. The dry humping against the rotting wallpaper earlier pushed me to a climax, but the ache has returned with ten times the ferocity. My pussy clenches, already weeping slick wetness onto the bare mattress.
"Dante," I whimper, my sassy bravado melting into a puddle of desperate need. "Please."
"Please what, my sweet girl?" He drags his open mouth down my sternum, tracing the line of my stomach. "Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me to ruin you."
"I want you." My fingers dig into his biceps. "All of you. Now."
This man is going to ruin me. And I am going to let him.
Dante shifts lower. His large hands grip my knees, pushing my legs wide open. I am exposed to him in the dim light of the ruined penthouse. My black lace panties are soaked through, clinging to my swollen wetness. Dante stares at the junction of my thighs, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. The intensity in his expression makes my chest tight. He does not just want to fuck me. He wants to consume me, to brand me as his own so deeply that the rest of the world ceases to exist.
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and tears them down my legs, tossing the ruined silk onto the floor. I am naked, vulnerable, and splayed open for him. The cold air of the dead-zone hotel sweeps over my slick folds, but the chill is banished the second Dante leans in.
His rough cheek brushes against my inner thigh. I jolt at the contact. Dante grips my hips, anchoring my thighs exactly where he wants them. Then, his hot, wet tongue drags right up my center.
I scream his name. The sound bounces off the gilded mirrors and rotting velvet drapes. Dante does not care about the noise. He wants me loud. His tongue is relentless, sliding through my slick wetness and finding my swollen clit. He circles the sensitive nub, pressing firmly, sending wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashing through my nervous system. I thrash on the mattress, but his grip on my hips is like a vice. He holds me still, forcing me to take every ounce of pleasure he is giving me.
"Dante, oh god, wait—" I am spiraling too fast. The sheer intensity of his mouth is too much. I have always been in control. Taking orders, submitting to someone else's rhythm, it goes against every independent instinct I have. But this man dismantles my defenses without even trying.
He ignores my plea. He sucks my clit directly into his mouth, applying a firm, agonizing pressure. At the same time, two fingers slide deep into my pussy. The stretch is incredible. I moan as he curls his fingers inside me, finding a sensitive bundle of nerves and stroking it mercilessly. My walls clench around his digits, dripping slick down his knuckles.
"You're so wet for me," Dante rumbles against my thighs, his hot breath fanning over my swollen folds. "So perfectly tight."
He adds a third finger, stretching my entrance even wider. The fullness is maddening. He pumps his fingers in and out of my slick core, his thumb returning to work my clit with ruthless efficiency. The pleasure builds into a towering, terrifying wave. I cannot hold it back. My hips snap upward, chasing his hand. My nails bite into the dusty mattress.
"Give it to me, Gemma," he demands. "Fall apart for me."
The orgasm tears through me like a live wire. My body bows off the bed, my muscles locking tight as intense spasms rock my core. I cry out, my voice cracking under the sheer weight of the pleasure. Dante takes my climax, swallowing my sweet juices, his fingers maintaining a steady, grounding rhythm inside me until the last tremor fades.
I collapse back onto the mattress, my chest heaving. My chest heaves as I struggle to pull air into my lungs, my mind completely wiped blank by the intensity. I lie there, boneless and panting, staring at the cracked ceiling of the Grand Continental.
Dante moves up my body. He is still fully dressed, his dark jeans straining against an erection that looks painful. The silver buckle of his belt presses into my bare thigh. His eyes are pitch black, dilated with raw hunger. He looks down at me, his chest rising and falling hard.
"My turn," he whispers.
He stands up beside the bed. The sound of his zipper lowering is sharp in the quiet room. Dante pushes his denim and boxers down his muscular legs, kicking them aside. My jaw practically drops. He is solid. His cock is solid, incredibly long, and standing at rigid attention, weeping a drop of precum from the broad tip. The weight of his balls rests perfectly beneath the shaft. He is a weapon built for ruin. And he is about to step right into my center.
Dante crawls back onto the bed, positioning himself between my spread legs. He wraps my knees over his forearms, opening me as wide as humanly possible. I am already slick, my body humming with the aftershocks of my climax, but looking at his arousal brings a fresh wave of wetness pooling between my lips.
He leans forward, bracing his weight on his tattooed arms. The tip of his cock brushes against my slick entrance. My wet core clenches instantly in anticipation of his heat. He is so hot, so incredibly solid.
Dante does not speak. He stares into my eyes, holding my gaze captive as he slowly, agonizingly pushes the broad head of his cock past my tight entrance.
I gasp, the sound ripping out of me. The stretch is intense. My walls pull taut around his girth. Dante groans, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against my chest. His jaw locks tightly. He is fighting a battle for control, trying not to simply plunge inside and break me in half.
"You are so damn tight," he forces out through clenched teeth. "Fuck, Gemma. So sweet."
"More," I beg, digging my heels into the back of his thighs. "Dante, please. Fill me."
That is all the invitation he needs. Dante drives his hips forward, burying his cock all the way to the hilt in one smooth, powerful thrust.
I cry out, my head throwing back against the mattress. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming. He stretches my inner walls to their limit, hitting deep spots I did not even know existed. The pain is a fleeting, tiny prick, swallowed by a crushing wave of pleasure. We are locked together. The cold, abandoned hotel vanishes. The threat of the Bellantis outside fades to static. There is only Dante.
