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“How are you so fucking soft?” he murmurs, his lips nibbling a path along my jaw. I cling to him, my fingers digging into the rolling and bunching muscles of his wide shoulders and sinking into his thick silky hair.
Dante grabs the edge of my skirt and hikes it up, baring my thighs. A cool breeze teases my skin, sending more goosebumps across my flesh.
His fingers trail higher and higher until he’s tracing the edge of my panties. The delicate lace does absolutely nothing to hide my arousal from him. I gasp as Dante traces the seam of my labia, catching the wetness that has gathered there.
“Do you want me to stop?” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
“Yes, jackass,” I moan, my nails digging into his back as I spread my legs wider.
He chuckles wickedly against my skin as his thumb starts to rub my clit. I bite back a moan, my hips bucking involuntarily, and bury my face into the fragrant skin peeking between his partially open shirt, his necklace cool against my heated cheeks.
“I am so fucked,” Dante murmurs, and suddenly, he snaps the crotch of my panties and slips a long thick finger inside me.
“Dante!” My brain short-circuits as my inner muscles clench tight around him in a way they never do for anyone else. It’s as if my body remembers what to do. What it was taught to do.
Deep and fast, he thrusts his finger in time with the insistent beat of my heart as pleasure swirls inside me. I can feel my orgasm nearing, coiling tightly in my belly like a spring. My head falls back against the car window, and I claw at his back, urging him on as he finger-fucks me with reckless abandon. My hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more of him.
He adds a second finger, stretching me wider, and I start to hear myself above the hum of the jet engine nearby. Which means I’m getting outrageously loud, but I’m too wound up to care. I’m teetering on the edge of climax, waiting for that final nudge.
As if reading my mind, his fingers curl with just the right amount of pressure, hitting my G-spot repeatedly. My vision sparks bright, and I shatter.
White-hot pleasure rips through me, and my body convulses. I cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. Dante groans with me as if he acutely feels my pleasure. He continues to pump his fingers inside me, drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling.
Even when my vision clears, his fingers remain inside me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. My nails are still digging into his back, my arms still gripping him just as tightly.
He’s not ready to stop. Neither am I.
When he finally drags his fingers out of me, I whimper at the sudden loss. He raises his head and pins me with his scorching hot gaze. For a long minute, neither of us moves, and it feels like Dante is staring into my soul, sifting through every decadent thought.
Thoughts of wanting to touch him . . . taste him.
And then he proves he sees through me when he gruffly commands. “Do it.”
My lids flutter closed as my cheeks flush. He’s read me like a fucking book. With shaking hands, I obey, undoing his fly and zipper, then I reach for his thick cock. He jerks in my hand as I stroke him, triggering a wave of lust so intense I bite my lip.
He’s so big that I’m no longer sure what I want more. His cum on my tongue or his girth stretching my pussy. Still, my mouth waters for a taste of him. My foggy mind begs me to make true one of its deepest fantasies.
I’ve never had Dante in my mouth before; there was only so much of each other that we managed to explore over the few nights in a three-month period, one of which I was a blushing virgin.
I run my thumb back and forth over his glans, catching a drop of precum. Immediately, I raise my hand to my mouth, but Dante stops me. He catches my wrist and instead suckles my wet thumb into his own mouth.
I gasp, shocked and aroused beyond words and more desperate than ever for him. Dante kisses me then, and shamelessly, I run my tongue along his, trying to discover the taste of his essence, but it’s too faint.
I draw back, lust warring with irritation. “You’re such a tease,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “There’s plenty more of it, Addy. You know what to do.”
I don’t even hesitate. I start to sink to my knees, but Dante shakes his head and slips a hand under my ass, hoisting me back up against him. “Wrap your legs around me.”
My breath hitches at the command, and I do as he says, my skirt riding up to my waist. I feel exposed, vulnerable, the cool night air teasing my bare pussy. Dante’s hands skim my hip, and I shiver.
Then I feel the broad head of his cock nudging at my entrance. In one smooth thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, filling me, stretching me too full. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, the sound emerging as a whimper.
Dante’s hands tighten on my hips then he growls, his voice rough with restraint, “Are you okay?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. My hips move of their own volition, struggling to accommodate his size. I forgot just how much Dante feels like. And then I nod. “Fuck me.”
He swears, a string of Italian curses, then his hips pull back, withdrawing almost all the way out before slamming back into me. I scream as pleasure explodes in my pelvis.
