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My body freezes. Is he for real? What does he mean ‘not tonight’? Anger, frustration, and belligerence cause my eyes to prickle with wetness.
“Tonight is about makingyoufeel good,” he continues. “Tonight is about you claiming back control.”
“So, you don’t want to stop?” I ask, hopefulness filling my voice as the hold on my wrist loosens.
“Fuck, no. I just meant we take care of you tonight. You can suck my dick every night after if that’s what you want,” he chuckles, “just not tonight.”
I pout because I was looking forward to tasting him, to finally knowing what it feels like to have power over someone in that way.
“As much as I want to wipe that pout away with my cock, Alessa,” he guides my hand back to his waistband, “I want to taste you first. I want to feel you shudder around my tongue as I make you come. I want your pussy sopping wet for me before I fuck you so thoroughly you’ll be chanting my name in prayer.” Jesus Christ, doesn’t he know I’m already dripping for him?
“Saint…” my fingers dip beneath his waistband.
“I’ll give that nickname a whole new meaning, baby,” he continues in his seductively deep voice, “I will worship your body. Every inch of you will be claimed tonight. Your body is my offering. Your pleasure will be my reward.”
“Shouldn’t it bemyreward?” I ask, pulling his boxers down and revealing his huge cock, hard and smooth, hisforeskin barely there as it stretches proudly in front of me, a droplet of precum glistening on top. Just one lick wouldn’t hurt. Surely.
“No, Alessa.” He lifts my chin with his index finger until our eyes meet. “Any man worth his salt will tell you that making his woman come over and over again is his biggest privilege,” he says as his boxers join the rest of his clothes on the floor.
Hiswoman. I try not to purr like a kitten at him calling me his woman. But before I can even berate myself, he pulls me roughly back up and onto his lap until I’m straddling him, and then his fingers press against my centre through my panties.
“Jesus, you’re so wet for me,” he groans. “Questa sarà la tortura più dolce, non è vero?3”
“Wh-at?” I stumble over the word as he circles his thumb against my clit.
“My torture. You’ll be my sweetest torture. But I’ll repent,” he chants feverishly before his lips capture mine, and his index finger slides my thong to the side and pushes inside me.
37
DANTE
“Ooooh,” Alessa moans into my mouth as I push my finger inside her tight, wet pussy. She’s so responsive, so fucking perfect for me, I nearly weep with the need to be inside her. But I have to make sure she’s ready first. Both in her body and in her mind. I don’t want her doubting what’s about to happen between us. I need her mind focused on the pleasure I’m about to give her. No one else but us matters tonight. Not ever.
My sole purpose is to chase away all her bad memories and create new ones in their stead. When Angelo called me pussy whipped a few weeks ago, I didn’t know his words were prophetic. But they were. In a few short months, Alessa became the sole focus of my brain. Thoughts of her invade my every waking moment, every dream, too. At first, I was certain it was because of the threat she posed. An unwitting reminder of what I had done so many years prior, fuelling my rage and disdain. Then, I thought it was intrigue, the need to find out why she was so hell-bent on staying in this town, despite my many attempts to make her leave. Somewhere along the way, I realised I was impressed by the sheer determination in her. By her wit and her sharp mind. Andnow? Now I know this thing between us was inevitable. Written in the books the moment her green eyes looked into mine when she was a little girl. I knew back then I had to protect her at all costs. I just didn’t know why.
Now I do.
She was destined to be mine, and I will destroy everything and everyone that will try to get in our way. Marriage contracts be damned.
“Dante,” she gasps, her head throwing back as I add another finger, making sure to stretch her in preparation for my cock. “Yes. Dante, yes,” she exclaims, rocking in my lap as I stroke her g-spot, my dick rubbing against her thigh and leaking precum. I want to hear her gasp my name like that every day. Every fucking minute of every single day. With a growl, I stand up, throwing her on the bed and crawling onto it behind her until I’m right between her thighs, her sweet scent rendering me speechless. The need to taste her, to feel her perfect cunt beneath my tongue overwhelms me. It’s a feeling akin to the rage that always comes over me. All consuming and unbearable. And like the rage, I let it take over, listening to my instincts as I dive in, feasting on her like she’s the best meal I’ve ever had.
Alessa moans my name, making me dizzy with need, her fingers digging into my hair, pulling on my strands as she pushes against my mouth, my tongue spearing inside her. When I feel her legs tremble around me, her body convulsing with uncontrollable shakes, I move my mouth, my lips sucking in her clit. She screams, her body coming off the bed and into the air as she comes on my mouth, liquid gushing against my face.
Jesus fucking Christ. She’s going to be the end of me. I lick every last drop, delighting in her confused moans as my tongue strokes her sensitive bud while I lick her clean before moving over to her thighs.
“Did I—” her voice is croaky, “did I just pee?” her arm lands over her face, hiding it from me.
I climb over her body, settling my weight on top of her, before pulling the arm off, revealing her embarrassed face.
“No, baby.”
“It was incredible, and then—I feel like I just peed myself.” Her lower lip trembles.
“You didn’t. You just came all over my face in the best possible way.” I nuzzle into her neck licking a path up to her ear, before nibbling her perfect little lobe.
She hums in pleasure. “You liked it?”
“Loved it.”
