He sucks my clit deep into his mouth before letting it go with a loud, embarrassingly wet sound. I didn’t give him permission to take off my T-shirt, but that doesn’t prevent him from reaching up and rubbing my nipples into hard points under his palms.
“Do you want to come, darling?”
I mewl an incomprehensible answer when he pinches my nipples, sending another bolt of lightning straight to my core.
He rubs his stubble over my pussy. “I didn’t quite hear that.”
“Y-yes,” I manage on a broken whisper. “Ah.”
“I think you owe me an apology first.”
I couldn’t care any longer. I’ll shout it too. “I’m sorry!”
“That’s my girl.” He plunges a finger inside me, making my inner muscles spasm so hard I almost come.
Almost.
He pulls out and pumps in slowly, working me up at a torturously slow pace.
“Dante.”
“Fuck, yes.” He adds another finger and curls them inside me while rubbing his thumb in circles over my clit. “Say that one more time, and I’ll let you come.”
I breathe his name like a person blowing out her last breath. “Dante.”
He pulls out his fingers and replaces them with his tongue, fucking me how I need it this time.
I come in his mouth with my back arching off the bed, my body being pulled apart in a reverse exorcism. Instead of getting him out of my system, he’s injecting himself deeper into my blood and carving his name into my skin.
I’m still coming down from the violent pleasure when he unzips and takes out his cock. He’s inside me before I have time to catch my breath. Even now, when he holds all the power and I have none, he still respects my wishes. But only as far as my body goes. As for my heart and soul, he doesn’t care about the damage he inflicts.
He fucks me hard instead of gently. As I want, he gives me his depravity and not the soft side he used to save only for me. The punches of his hips are raw and rough, the action stripped of any affection, leaving only naked lust, but at least it’s honest. At least it’s not pretending to be something it isn’t.
He grips my face in his large hand and splays his strong fingers over my cheeks, lifting my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze as he moves his hips faster in chasing after his own release. Our mouths are a hairbreadth apart, our lips a heartbeat away from touching. He taunts me with his power, holding me in place as he lets me understand everything happens at his whim. Not kissing me. Coming inside me.
The pleasure that twists his face is so potent it seems closer to pain. Maybe it is painful. Maybe it’s as powerful for him as it is for me, the pleasure becoming one with pain. Indistinguishable. Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I can’t separate the emotional pain from the physical sensations any longer. Everything is meshed into one. That’s always been my downfall. I’ve always confused sex and love.
He keeps me immobile, making me take every drop that bathes me inside, finishing with punishing thrusts of his hips that pounds out a steady message. Every punch that slams his groin against my pussy spells a letter. He writes a word inside me without having to give sound to it. Not as much as a groan escapes his lips. His breath feathers hot over my mouth, his amber gaze drilling into mine as he carves that word so deeply the wound will never heal.
Mine.
I think about the manly fingers digging into my cheeks, preventing me from looking away, making me witness the act he’s performing, the pleasure he finds inside me, how ugly it is, how real. I think about the thick veins on his hands and the ink that covers them. I haven’t yet seen the letters on his fingers beneath his rings. He never takes them off. But I don’t have to see them to know what those letters spell—the name of his dead brother.
And even as he’s fucking me raw and taking his pleasure, he’s punishing me for that, for the life my father and brother took from him.
He can call it what he wants, but he didn’t ruin me out of love. Dante Morici ruined me not only for my fiancé but also for all other men out of revenge. I thought I escaped the invisible chains he shackled me with when I outran him. As it turns out, I’ve been a fool again.
Our past left a mark that cuts too deep to heal.
Our present is a vicious circle I can never escape.
Chapter
Ten
Dante
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