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“Asshole,” I lie, calling on muscles earned with years of pole dancing as I brace my hands on his chest and take him up on the challenge, rising up and then lowering myself again. And then again. Using his cock like my own personal sex toy as I start to lose myself in it. Riding him hard, chasing the building pleasure that he’s made me such a glutton for and letting it carry me away.
But then Dante’s hands are on me again, rubbing fresh, wet paint into my skin. Drawing sensual patterns over my stomach, breasts, clit. Reaching around to my ass and kneading it, spanking it again, forcing me to go faster and harder as he paints me like I’m a fucking canvas.
“Beautiful,” he grunts, sexy-as-fuck tremors going through his muscles as his cock swells inside me. “Do it, princess. Let me see you fall apart again. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
I’m close. So close I can’t stand it but so fucking greedy that I never want it to end.
It doesn’t end. He grabs my hips and drives up into me, and pleasure explodes through me in an unstoppable wave that feels like it willneverend.
“That’s it. Fuck. It’s always so… fucking…goodwith you.”
Hearing it sends another wave crashing through me, and he rolls me onto my back and drives into me hard, fucking me right through. Smearing the bright colors he painted onto my skin over the both of us. Panting against my throat as his hips finally start to stutter, his rhythm cracking as he gets close.
“Come,” I whisper, my body tightening around him. I scrape my nails down his back and grab his ass. “Give it to me. I want everything.”
Because he’s right. I’m insatiable. Greedy as shit when it comes to him and his cock and the cum I want inside me, filling me up. Greedy for the sizzling connection I feel as his eyes blaze into mine, burning deep, like he doesn’t want it to end, either.
But then it does. I tighten my inner muscles and Dante’s face contorts as he shouts, and he gives me exactly what I asked for. Everything.
And just like he said, it’s so fucking good with him.
Every. Single. Time.
28
RILEY
“You good, princess?”Dante murmurs, sprawling out on the floor next to me.
He tugs me against his side and presses a kiss against my temple, then settles my head on his shoulder, idly tracing the patterns of drying paint on my body.
It’s nice…. and I’m beyond good.
“Quit fishing,” I say, biting back a smile.
He snorts quietly. We’ve both got our eyes trained on the canvas, but I still catch his grin in my peripheral vision.
“Want me to go grab us something to drink?”
I shake my head without bothering to raise it. I’ve got no interest in moving again, possibly ever, and from the total relaxation I can feel in Dante’s body right now, he seems to feel the same.
I lazily wave a hand toward the canvas, both my brain and body buzzing with afterglow. “What are you going to do with that? It’s a mess.”
“Nah. It’s beautiful. The best one yet. Maybe I’ll hang it in my room. I’ve been thinking of putting something up there.”
I laugh. He’s over the top. But I can’t deny that the idea of Dante sleeping under that particular painting sends some heat through me. “Is that what you were planning for it? Painting something for your room?”
He shrugs, his shoulder rippling under my head, but doesn’t answer.
I roll onto my side and prop myself up on my elbows, resting them on his chest. “No, really. What was it going to be?”
When I walked in, the half-finished canvas was full of the bold colors I always associate with Dante now, but laid down in a way that seemed almost violent. It sucked me in, just like all his art does, and I want to know.
I want to knowhim.
“I was just painting out a dream I had,” he finally says without taking his eyes away from the canvas.
“Must have been an intense one,” I tease.
