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“Coming?” He glances back at me, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.He makes me laugh.It seems so strange, that this man of all people would be the one to make me laugh spontaneously for the first time in so long.
“I think I did several times already,” I tell him, joining him under the warm spray of water. It feels divine—one of those showers that makes you feel like you’re standing in a rainstorm, and Dante reaches for me the moment the door is closed, turning me so that my back is against the cool tiles.
“I could make you come again.” His eyes are dark, full of desire. He was inside of me minutes ago, his cum is still dripping down my skin, but I can feel him starting to swell against my thigh as he leans into me. His mouth captures mine, soft and warm, gentler this time. His hands rest on my hips, and I know the statement isn’t just that arrogance slipping through again. Hecould. The way he touches me, I think he could make me come as many times as he wanted.
“Do you want that?” Dante’s voice is silky smooth, a seductive whisper in my ear under the heat of the water. It promises so many things that I’ve never really experienced in their entirety. Not the way I’ve always been told they should be experienced.
His hand slides between us, teasing my oversensitive flesh. I feel tender and raw, but my body still responds instantly, as if it were made for him. As if all this time, I’ve just been waiting for him to bring these sensations to life.
Once more won’t hurt.I can feel myself rationalizing it, but the temptation is too strong. His fingers delve between my folds, and the breath he sucks in when his fingers graze my clit is intoxicating. He reacts as ifhe’sthe one being pleasured when he touches me.
I want to explore him, too. My hips arch into his hand as he strokes my clit slowly, gentler this time, matching the slow, unhurried pace of his kisses. I reach down, my fingers trailing down the length of his stiffening cock, and he sucks in another sharp breath. He arches forward, pushing himself into the palm of my hand, and I wrap my fingers around him.
“God—” Dante groans, his mouth dragging along the side of my jaw. “Even your hand feels fucking incredible.”
He says it almost with disbelief, as if it shouldn’t feel that good, and a hot jolt of desire stabs through me. It’s the same thing I feel, and I can’t believe that this man, who undoubtedly can have anyone he wants, wantsmeso much. That I’m making him feel as good as he has for me.
My fingers barely fit around him. I slide my hand down to the tip, feeling the slick heat of his pre-cum against my palm, and I gasp as his fingers move faster against my clit. His cock throbs in my hand, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to take him in my mouth.
I start to sink to my knees, but Dante’s other hand on my hip squeezes, keeping me in place. “You can taste me next time,” he murmurs, his voice thick and hoarse in my ear. “I want to be inside of you again.”
Next time. I should tell him that there won’t be a next time. That this is a one-night-only thing. But he’s already turning me to face the other wall, his hands sliding hungrily over my ass as he nudges my legs wider, and I lean forward without thinking, my back arching.
“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Dante groans. “Fuck—”
The swollen tip of his cock nudges against my inner thigh, the water spilling over my back, and I feel Dante’s fingers slip between my legs. “I want to eat your pussy until you scream for me,” he groans, two fingers sliding into me, opening me up for his cock as I feel him nudge against me. “But I can’t fucking wait—”
He already came once, and he’s this ravenous again. His desire drives mine higher, makes me arch my back further, and whimper with need as the tip of his cock replaces his fingers, his hands hard on my hips.
“Fuck me,please,” I whisper before I can stop myself, and he thrusts hard into me.
In this position, it’s so much deeper. I cry out when he sinks all the way in, pulling out and thrusting again hard before I can catch a breath. It’s almost too much, but it feels so fucking good, and it’s only compounded when Dante’s fingers find my clit again, his other hand sliding up to palm my breast. I arch back against him, my ass pressing into his groin as he thrusts again and again, setting a pace that makes me struggle to keep from collapsing with pleasure. My hands are pressed against the dark tile, knuckles whitening with the effort to stay upright, my body shuddering with every hard meeting of his body against mine.
“You’re perfect, little bird,” Dante breathes, sinking in deeply and grinding himself against me. “So wet, so fucking tight—”
Every filthy thing he says only pushes me closer to the edge. There’s no reason to hold back; if my body can manage to come again after this, he’ll get me there. I feel like every inch of me is awash in pleasure, dizzy with it and the heat of the shower. It’s easy to forget that ten minutes ago, I told myself that this would only happen once.
His fingers find that perfect spot as he thrusts again, hard, and I dimly hear myself cry out his name as my fingers claw against the tile and I come apart at the seams. I hear him groan, feel the delicious friction of his cock for a moment more before he suddenly slips out of me, and I hear the slap of his hand against his flesh as he strokes his orgasm out onto the tiles.
I can’t move for a moment—if I do, I think my knees will give out. I turn slowly after a second, leaning back against the wall as I look at Dante, his hand still lightly stroking his cock as the last drops of his cum spill out onto the tile, his dark hair wet against his scalp, his eyes dark with pleasure.
He looks utterly gorgeous.
“That was—” Dante looks at me, letting go of his softening cock, and I nod.
“Amazing.” I let out a breath, closing my eyes. “You’re going to wear me out so much I won’t be able to tattoo you.”
“Tempting.” He closes in on me again, stealing another kiss. For a moment, I think he’s going to start turning us both on all over again, but he savors the kiss instead, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip before drawing it between his—and then he lets go, stepping back into the water.
I stay leaning against the wall for a moment. If he said anything, I’d use my still-trembling legs as an excuse, but the truth is that I want to enjoy looking at him. I don’t plan to do this again, and I want to remember what he looks like. I want to rememberthis, like the kind of experience that you know you shouldn’t repeat but also know you’ll go back and revisit, because it was so fucking incredible.
His body is like a sculpture, marked by tattoos that spread over his upper chest and down his arms to his hands, the chest tattoos curving around his sides and down his hips. He has exquisite taste in art—the tattoos aren’t blocky crosses or thick tribal lines. I see other mythological art mixed in with the repeating motifs of skulls and blooming flowers and vines—pomegranate seeds dripping from the center of a rose, gems spilling from the mouth of a skull. All of it is impeccably done, and I miss the smirk on his lips as my gaze roves hungrily over his body, until I finally drag my eyes back up to his face.
“Enjoying the view?” His voice is thick with humor, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Admiring your tattoos. Although the canvas isn’t bad, either.”
“Hmm.” He tilts his head back, washing the soap out of it as he steps towards me again. “You seemed to think more highly of it when you were running your hands all over thatcanvasearlier.”
