I’ll wallow in self-resentment for days to come when my hips involuntarily roll. It’s not my fault. An extremely handsome man is looking at me like I invented the sun.
Daftness inspired by lust is anticipated.
Instead of scalding my recklessness, Dante encourages it. After fisting my bun, he uses his grip as leverage to pull me down on him again and again. Tingles surface too fast to be safe, so I breathlessly murmur for him to stop.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
He rolls his hip upward, grinding against me, before he locks his eyes with mine. They appear nowhere near as confused as they did a moment ago. “That’s not possible. You can’t take advantage of a willing participant.”
I twist my lips, confused by his reply.
If this is what he wants, why has he been so distant?
Dante doesn’t give me time to dwell on the facts. With his stocky thighs forcing my legs wide, and his cock’s head rubbing against my opening, stars commence blistering before I can catch my breath.
I try to pull away. It’s the right thing to do, but the plea in Dante’s voice when he begs to make me come is too much to bear.
“Let me do this for you. Let me make you come.Please.”
Ashamed by how fast he can unravel my morals, I bury my head into his neck and breathe through the hysteria. It should only take one sniff of his perfume-scented skin to return my respect.
It doesn’t.
I’m thrust into the throes of ecstasy only seconds later, Dante’s filthy, pleading mouth an unpinned grenade for any red-blooded woman.
I still as tingles race over every inch of my skin, and I breathe his name heavily in his neck. It’s a fast orgasm, but its swiftness doesn’t dampen its power in the slightest.
I’m exhausted by the time the simmers simper, but hopeful our exchange has sobered Dante enough for it to be the beginning of lust-filled embrace.
My hope is short-lived. As his cock throbs in sync to the needy pulse of my clit, Dante traces a cluster of freckles on my neck. I didn’tknow they existed until they were pointed out in a similar manner years ago.
The softness of Dante’s touch and his rushed exhale bombard me with so many memories that I clam up. For nine months, the memories of the last time these imperfections were highlighted fueled my wish to live.
The fantasy crashed and burned when Gabriele was born. The flames of the inferno were ferocious enough to destroy any happiness they once rewarded me.
Dante’s glassy eyes bore into mine, and then recognition dawns. “It’s you.”
I return his stare, lost.Who did he think he was making come?
When all roads lead to one answer, I feel sick.
I attempt to slip off his lap, but Dante holds on tight, refusing to let me go.
Mercifully, the pitter of little feet saves me from having my heart shredded.
Camille is awake, and I’m not the only one realizing. Dante’s eyes widen as his throat bobs on repeat. He dreads the thought of his daughter seeing him like this. Not just naked, but with his bravado stripped away.
I’ve never seen him so bewildered.
“I’ll tell her you’re not feeling well.”
This time, he lets me go.
My thighs wobble with more than the effects of an orgasm when I make my way to the door. “Once you’ve slept, you should feel better.”
I freeze partway through the door when Dante calls my name.
He waits for me to face him before saying, “Camille…” Before he finishes, his eyes bulge, and then they’re hidden by the trash can liner a cleaner replaced yesterday afternoon.
