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Dante Campano is fingering me in public, out on a balcony, and I’m imagining it goingfurther.
“We’re going to get caught.” I can’t breathe. The pleasure spreads through me, warm and thick, and I nearly sob with the feeling of it as his index finger joins the middle, pushing into me and curling as he begins those steady strokes again. “Dante—”
Dante leans forward, the heel of his hand replacing his thumb, grinding it against my clit as his lips slide over the shell of my ear. “I’m the most powerful mafia boss in Los Angeles, little bird. In California. On the West Coast, even.” His fingers thrust into me again, harder, and then he pulls back a little, a look of gleaming lust written across his face as he pulls his hand free. “I can do what I want.”
And then he turns me to face the city below as his strong hands curl around my hips.
I know what he’s going to do before I even hear the slide of his zipper. With one hand, he flicks my skirt to one side, his knee between my legs as he nudges them apart. I hear the rip of foil and realize that hepreparedfor this, that he had a condom in hispocket, but it’s the last thing I think before I feel the swollen head of his cock against my entrance.
I grip the railing just as his hips flex, and he drives into me in one powerful thrust that sinks him inside of me to the hilt.
A cry of pleasure nearly tears free of my lips before I let go of the railing, clapping one hand over my mouth to stifle it, and the gasping sob of near-blinding sensation that follows as Dante thrusts hard again. His hand squeezes my hip, his cock thrusting powerfully into me again and again, the lights of the city glowing beneath us. I can’t believe it’s actually happening, and at the same time, I don’t want him to stop.
I don’t care if anyone sees us. It feels too fucking good.
I feel his fingers slip between my thighs, seeking out my swollen clit as he sinks into me again and holds himself there, rocking against me. “Fuck,you feel so good,” he groans, and I can feel him throb inside of me. “So wet—”
I’m dizzy with the pleasure washing over me, with the sensation of him inside of me, touching me. He leans forward, his lips brushing the side of my neck as his hand lightly curls around my throat, tilting my chin up so that I’m looking out at the vista of the city in front of us.
“I fantasized about fucking you like this,” Dante murmurs, his voice warm against my ear. “But the reality is so much better.”
His fingers slide over my clit expertly, faster than before, and I sink my teeth into my lip as I feel myself clench around him, shuddering and gripping the railing for dear life as I come apart. He doesn’t stop thrusting, doesn’t stop the slide of his fingers over my wet and swollen flesh, and the pleasure builds and builds, cresting until it’s only his hand sliding up from my throat to cover my mouth that keeps me from screaming my pleasure loudly enough that the entire party below us would hear.
“God,I don’t want it to be over,” Dante groans, his voice low and rough. “But you’re going to make me come, little bird.”
His desire for me is intoxicating. It’s only going to end in heartbreak, I know that, but no one has ever said things like this to me. No one has ever made me feel like this—or felt this way for me in return. His fingers press against my lips, holding in the helpless sounds of pleasure as he thrusts into me, quick and hard, my pulse racing in my throat at the thought of someone coming out onto the balcony and seeing us.
And then I hear the click of the door behind us, and I freeze.
Dante doesn’t. He doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t stop thrusting, his hand on my mouth and my hip as his cock slams powerfully into me, and I hear the sound of retreating footsteps as my orgasm crests again. The panic of being caught, mingled with Dante’s absolute disregard for anyone who might care, is a heady combination. I can hardly breathe as he thrusts once more, his hips flexing against my ass, and I spill over the edge with him.
His hand pulls away from my mouth, letting my gasping cry of pleasure echo over the cityscape in front of us, his hands tightening on my hips as he rocks against me. Even with the condom, I can feel him throbbing inside of me, exquisitely hard and thick. I let out another low moan as I clench around him, wishing I could feel the heat of him coming inside of me. The thought of him filling me up, of his cum sticky and warm on my thighs and soaking my panties as we go back to the party, sends another shudder of pleasure through me, and Dante groans as I ripple around him again.
“Fuck, Emma,” he pants, his cock still buried inside of me, both of us hardly able to move. I feel like my knees will give out if I try. “I want to stay inside of you all fucking night.”
“We’d have to go back home for that,” I whisper, and I hear Dante give a low, almost regretful laugh as he finally slips out of me.
“I don’t want to deprive you of the party. But it might not be too much longer before I’m obliged to whisk you away.” He tucks himself back into his trousers, zipping up, and I let my skirt fall back down around my legs as I turn to face him. I feel flushed and breathless, and he’s still standing so very close to me. It makes my heart race, makes me want him all over again, even though he just made me come twice.
I realize, dimly, that no one has come up to say anything to us. Whoever came out on the balcony must have gone back downstairs by now, but if they told anyone about what they saw, it clearly didn’t matter enough for anyone to come and stop us.
Or Dante might have been right about just how much he can get away with.
“What you said before—” I swallow hard, feeling as if there’s a lump in my throat as I look up at him. A faint, warm breeze springs up, ruffling my hair and my skirt, and I have that sensation of being outside of myself all over again. As if I’m watching a movie; as if I’m watching this happen to someone else. “About being able to do whatever you want.”
“Yes?” Dante looks at me curiously. He’s still close enough to touch, and he looks down at me, desire and affection clear in his expression.
For a moment, I’m not sure if I can get the words out. I’m not sure if Ishould.
“Does that also include being with someone like me?”
An expression I can’t quite read crosses Dante’s face. He reaches down, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers skimming over my cheekbone. “There is no one else like you,” he whispers, and then his arms are around me, pulling me into him, his mouth on mine once more.
It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s the most romantic thing anyone probably everwillsay. And for all my caution and all the effort I’ve put into trying to maintain a distance, I can’t help but fall.
I also know it’s not really an answer to my question.
This time, when the party is over, and Dante asks me to go back home with him, I say yes. I want more time with him, his hands on me, his lips everywhere I could possibly crave. I want more of the pleasure, more of what he makes me feel.
