Page 58 of Dante

I suppress a mewling sound, not wanting him to think I’m so brazen.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly what I should want him to think if I’m going to see any action tonight.

Dante moves his hands lower, squeezing my ass.

My pussy pulsates eagerly at the promise of what is to come.

This wanton desire for Dante shocks and surprises me.

Not even the raciest passages in Alice’s novels arouse me the way Dante’s touch sets me on fire.

When Dante leans closer, I breathe in his intoxicating scent of cedar and musk.

“I want to see you,” he says, yanking the towel away and letting it drop to the floor.

I stand naked before him, feeling as if I’m under inspection. Almost like I’m being judged.

I hold my head high.

Then without another word, Dante drops to his knees.

He parts my legs as wide as they can go and runs the length of his tongue from my upper thighs to my sex.

“Dante,” I murmur as sparks shoot through my body.

Through my lowered lashes, I can see him devouring me in the mirror’s reflection.

His dark, beautiful hair blocks most of the action. Yet when he shifts to the side, I catch that snake-like tongue of his darting in and out of my pussy.

Just when I’m about to come, Dante stops.

He bends me forward so my hands rest on the sink to hold my weight.

Then he unties his belt, and his robe drops, revealing him in all his naked glory.

Dante’s erection is as long and thick as one of those half-goat, half-human satyr figures I’ve seen in museums. His reflection shows the lust in his eyes, too.

Positioning himself behind me, Dante moves the head of his dick against the crack of my ass.

I feel it, warm, throbbing, and pressing against my rear opening. Suddenly I’m anxious.

My pussy is so tight that even normal sex still feels slightly uncomfortable, though Dante makes certain I achieve orgasm.

Does Dante want anal sex? As his wife, am I required to agree?

The thought of Dante penetrating me in this way terrifies me, but it turns me on all the same.

I open my mouth to ask a question but shut it immediately. Dante doesn’t like questions ever, and certainly not now.

“Relax,” Dante says, pulling out my elastic band and letting the blonde curls I piled on top of my head spill over my shoulders.

He adjusts us again so we can both see our reflection in the mirror. Dante, hard and fierce, with his dark skin and black hair.

And me so fair and delicate with blonde tresses. He pushes me forward again until I’m resting on my forearms.

“Watch,” he orders.

My pulse races as Dante presses his cock against my tight hole. The sensation blurs the line between pain and pleasure.