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“Dante!” I yelp, my heart hammering as I feel his hand on my bare ass.
Something else presses hotly against my ass, and my eyes bulge.
Holy fuck, is he for real?
Dante’s thick, swollen cock slips between my thighs from behind. I can feel him bend his knees, angling his cock up as his hand pulls my panties to the side.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit…
“Never forgetwhose you are.”
He sinks into me with one powerful thrust. I almost scream before I clamp a hand over my own mouth, Dante’s fat cock driving into me from behind.
It’s almost too much: too much sensation. Too much danger. Too much risk and adrenaline. But as he keeps fucking me in time to the music, with his hands on my hips and my dress mostly covering us, it just looks like we’re dancing extra dirty with each other.
Not a single person who saw us right now would imagine that every inch of this man’s cock is rammed deep in my dripping wet pussy.
The beat picks up, and so does his pace. He pounds into me savagely and aggressively, his hands roaming all over my body as I arch my back and push my ass back against him. He cups one of my breasts, pinching the nipple roughly through my dress just as his gorgeous cock sinks balls-deep.
All of it slams together: the crowd, the music, the public nature of this, and the thrill of being caught or seen. And of course,him, and his god-like ability to fuck meexactlyhow I need it.
And suddenly I’m shattering for him.
Just as I cry out, Dante grabs a fistful of my hair and twists my face around. His mouth slams to mine, swallowing my moans and cries of pleasure as he fucks into me over and over. I’m still coming when I feel his thick cock swell even more. He sinks deep, and I moan into his mouth when I feel the hot, thick spurts of cum spill into me.
We stay like that, swaying and dancing to the music—lip-to-lip, bodies pressed together, his dick still buried inside of me.
Then we do it all over again.
35
TEMPEST
You could saythat what I’m about to do is underhanded, sneaky, and wrong. But I’m choosing to view it through a different lens. This isn’t stabbing Dante in the back or meddling with his life.
It’s fixing a problem he only has because of me.
I’ve been thinking about Layla a lot since the truth came out back in the Hamptons, and even more since we got back to New York. The last thing Dante did for her was bury a secret she never wanted any of us to discover. In doing so, he made our whole family hate him and think the worst of him.
Maybe he’ll hatemefor what I’m about to do, but that’s fine. I won’t be here to feel shitty about it for long. And before I go, I can fix this problem for him.
Dante generally keeps a tight lid on all things Club Venom, and definitely on all things mafia. But the door to his office was open the other night while he was on the phone to someone that I eventually gathered was Vito Barone. Through the open door I heard Dante’s side of a conversation about Luciano Amatowanting to shut down Venom, or at least remove Dante as owner, over the situation with Silvio Bonpensiero.
Andthatgot me thinking about the firemen’s gala we went to, where Renata Bonpensiero was a huge bitch to me. I remembered Dante threatening her back with information he had on her husband working against the interests of his boss, Don Amato.
Dante’s conversation with Vito also clued me in that, while hehadinformation on Frank Bonpensiero, he wasn’t sure about using it quite yet.
I beg to differ.
So the other night, I…acquiredthat information. By which I mean, I might have slunk naked into Dante’s office, dropped to my knees and took his cock down my throat. And Imighthave watched him type in his computer password to wake it up again after he’d finished fucking me across his desk.
Again, it’s maybe wrong for me to be doing this without even talking to Dante. But this is one thing I can do for him after all he’s done for me, not to mention for Layla. I can stop certain people from calling for his removal from Venom.
I take a deep breath as I step out of the Uber in front of the Amato Brothers Funeral Parlor in the Gowanus neighborhood of Brooklyn.
I never thought I’d be a mafia deal negotiator. But, well, here we are.
There’s a big guy in a black suit smoking a cigarette by the front door. He eyes me curiously as I walk up to him.
