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Not for him.
For me.
Like I have such fucking power that this man—a man of restraint and control and money—can't even bear to take off his clothes.
The siren smiles at him as I move my hand and take his cock into it, my eyes locked on his. His chest is heaving, moving with deep breaths, his mouth parted as my much smaller hand starts to move, stroking him.
Then I move closer, so close I'm breathing on him. His legs widen, giving me more room to work with. My tongue dips out, the tip swiping where a drop of precum has leaked out of his cock, and a deep moan falls from Dante's lips. I take him and tap the head on my tongue a few times, watching his face as pure lust takes over.
"Jesus fucking Christ, you're dirty, aren't you?" he asks in a low voice, and I smile before moving, slipping the head between my lips and sucking. I moan at the taste and slowly ease him inside, sucking and licking as I do.
The feeling of his eyes on me, of the feral look in them, of him towering over my small body sends a new rush of wet between my legs. As the arousal starts to furl in my belly again, I moan around him, my hand capturing what is left out, and he smiles.
"That's it, suck my cock like a good little girl," he says, his voice low and raspy as I stare up at him, moving my mouth over his cock. "God, such a pretty sight, watching it disappear down your throat." His hand moves to my hair, twisting it and using the new leverage to guide me. My tongue runs along the underside, and he groans deep, urging my face to move quicker along him. I let my jaw go slack, let him use me, let the feeling of this—being so used and overpowered by a man—overtake me.
He doesn't treat me like a precious, breakable thing.
He treats me like a woman he wants to destroy, a woman who can handle it and come back stronger and better.
The feeling is intoxicating as I moan around his cock. My hand moves, dipping down to my wet pussy, and a finger circles my clit, making me moan harder. My hips start to rock against my hand at the rhythm he's fucking my face.
"Jesus Christ," he says, bending, moving his hands to my armpits before lifting me and tossing me onto the big, fluffy bed. I land with a giggle, my emotions and thoughts all over the place, but Dante has no such look on his face.
"You play with that pussy. Get it ready for me," he says, and his eyes are dark, pupils wide with lust, his jaw set tight as he starts to unbutton his shirt. "Now, Delilah," he says, and I acquiesce, running a hand down my body and circling my clit, letting a low moan leave my lips.
"Open your legs so I can see, baby," he says, and I groan but do as he asks, spreading them on his dark sheets.
As I watch inches of tanned flesh come into my line of sight as he undoes buttons unbearably slowly, I give him his own brand of torture. A single finger enters my body, and I moan, my pussy calming down to try and get more, to get anything.
"Fuck," he says, watching the finger leave then return, his own fingers pausing their work.
"Hurry," I whisper.
"Fuck!"he says then finishes the buttons, throwing the shirt to the side and stepping out of his pants. His shoes are long gone. And finally, he's crawling up my body.
"Birth control—are you on it?" he asks, and I blush at the words.
It's almost funny if you look at it from the outside. I take my clothes off and dance on a stage for a living. I met this man because he bought my time. Moments earlier, his cock was in my mouth as he fucked my face. But here I am, blushing aboutbirth control.
"I have an IUD." His eyes twinkle.
"I was tested recently. Nothing came up,” he says. "I would love nothing more than to fill your cunt bare."
His words have a staggering breath leaving my chest.
“I’m… Dante, I've—" I start to explain, to tell him, but he presses his lips to mine, cutting me off.
"You telling me I can fuck you bare,fiorella?" The sweet word rolls off his tongue and even here, like this, it melts a part of me.
"Yeah, Dante," I whisper, ignoring the fact that there is so much more we should do, more I should say before this. But I've already made up my mind.
I want Dante Romano.
If only for one night, I want him. I want this. I want to give him this. I want to sever the final tie of being the breakable, protected princess.
He smiles a wicked smile, and then slowly, torturously slowly, the head of his thick cock moves, sliding inside of me like he was made to be there. The stretching is intense, not necessarily painful, but uncomfortable and foreign. But his breath in my ear, the way he's panting there, has my body melting, relaxing to let him in.
"Oh, god," I whisper.
