He lets out a low growl of approval. “Are you going to let me fuck this pussy, strega dolce?”
My nod is the only response he gets before I allow him to move and manipulate my body like a small doll, not taking part as he undresses me to use me as he sees fit.
It’s unspoken, but I know that’s what he wants me to do. Dante likes to dominate and to have control. Tonight, I want him to have it.
His fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back until my neck is arched and exposed. His teeth graze the soft skin there, and I whimper, my nipples hardening against the cotton of my bra. Reaching behind me, he unclasps the offending fabric and tosses it aside, the cool air of the penthouse making my nipples pebble even harder.
He doesn’t stop there because Dante knows how to wreck me. While one hand continues to hold me against the table, his other slides down my body, over the curve of my breasts, pinching a nipple hard enough to make me cry out. Then it moves lower, tracing the dip of my waist and the flare of my hips until he reaches the slick, drenched heat between my thighs.
I cry out in both shock and anticipation as I hear the fabric of my panties rip as he tears them off with a snarl of impatience
Pressing both palms to my inner thighs, he spreads them as wide as they will go, almost to the point of pain,making me wish I were far more flexible. Then, he uses one foot to drag a chair from behind him to the end of the table, sitting down between my legs as if to feast. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that he plans on making a meal of me tonight.
I can feel him staring intently at my pussy, almost as if he wants to commit the sight to memory. Embarrassed, I attempt to close my legs, but he slaps one thigh and growls his displeasure. Trying to relax, I allow him to look his fill.
“Look at you. So wet, so eager for my cock. Even your pussy is pretty,” he murmurs in appreciation. “But never deny me what’s mine, cara mia.”
Satisfied with my compliance and the sight before him, he leans down, his tongue plunging into my core like he wants to own every corner of me, every secret I’d ever kept locked away. His lips are savage and hungry, his fingers leaving bruises I know I’ll cherish for days.
He then runs his tongue up my center, biting down on my clit, sharp and sudden, and I gasp in surprise. My body arches, pressing into his face like I’m begging for more, and I am. Begging for the pain mixed withpleasure only he can give me. This is Dante’s way. I want more. I will always want more from this man.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he growls, his voice rough, dark, and filthy. His fingers press inside me, curving upwards, massaging deeply and making me tremble, desperate to come. But he doesn’t give it to me.
No, Dante is a goddamn sadist, drawing out every second of this torture until I’m begging incoherently.
“Please,” I whimper, my voice breaking, my hips bucking against his hand. “Please, Dante...”
He grins, cruel and beautiful, and shoves another finger deep inside without warning. I gasp, my body convulsing around him, my nails digging into the table like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. His fingers move in and out, rough and relentless, curling just right to hit that spot again that makes me see stars. My moans are ragged, broken, obscene as he works me over, his thumb circling my clit with just enough pressure to make me scream.
“That’s it,” he growls, his breath hot against my core. “Take it, strega dolce. Take it all. You are doing so well, being my proper slut tonight.”
At those words, I gasp, knowing I should feel degraded or insulted. Instead, I feel a sense of pride that I’ve made this powerful man praise me, that I can handle his needs. Now, I’m all but purring, wanting more of Dante’s words of affirmation.
But then he pulls his fingers out, leaving me both empty and aching. Whining, my body trembling with need. Dante gives a dark chuckle and seems to just be getting started.
It’s then that I remember Dante Vescari has a reputation for torturing people. He’s a master of his craft, and tonight, I’m his willing victim.
He suddenly flips me onto my stomach using one hand. My cheek is pressed against the cold, solid surface of the table as I claw at the wood, and he yanks my hips back, leaving my ass in the air, completely at his mercy.
I can hear the metal of his belt buckle being undone, and then I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my pussy, thick and hard. Whimpering again, my body clenches in anticipation.
He doesn’t go slow. Dante isn’t about gentle. He slams into me in one brutal thrust, burying himself to thehilt as I scream his name, as he fills me, stretching me, ruining me.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. “You’re so goddamn tight. I will never get enough of this tight cunt.”
He pulls back and slams into me again and again. His rhythm is rough and punishing until I’m crying out with every thrust, my body shaking with a pleasure so intense it’s painful. His cock drags against that deep, sweet spot inside me with every movement, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through my core. I can feel him everywhere. His heat, his strength, his dominance.
One hand tangles in my hair again, yanking my head back as he leans over me, his chest pressing against my back, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice dark, menacing, and possessive. “Every inch of you. You fucking understand?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my voice breaking, my body trembling with the force of his thrusts. “Yes, Dante, I’m yours.”
He groans, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he regains control, thrusting harder and deeper until I’m unraveling. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidalwave, and I moan loudly, my body clenching around him, milking him until his thrusts become erratic. He finally buries himself deep inside and comes with a roar, his release flooding me, branding me as his.
For a moment, we stay connected, our breaths are ragged, our hearts pounding in sync with one another. Then, he slowly pulls out, leaving me empty. My body is still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure as I turn over, sitting upright on the table.
Not wanting to break our connection, I bury my head in his chest while wrapping my arms around his waist as I catch my breath. He hugs me tightly, as if he, too, can’t bear to be parted. His arms tighten, and he presses his cheek to the top of my head, while softly kissing the mess of my hair created by our urgent lovemaking.
We both laugh softly as we realize at the same time that Dante is still wearing his coat, shirt, and slacks. Our need for each other was so great, he only undid his belt and zipper before claiming me on his dining room table. Sighing, I tighten my arms around him, enjoying the moment of levity.
