Fisting the elastic on her hip, I snap it with a twist of my wrist. She utters another gasp as I pluck the scrap of fabric away and drop it on the shards of priceless antique crystal that litter the floor. I thrust two fingers up to the knuckles inside her, rough and hard.
And there it is. A needy moan falls from her lips. Ecstasy transforms her features as she tilts her head back against the mirror and closes her eyes.
Her arousal coats my fingers. She’s always been attuned to my touch, always ready for me.
Wrapping my fingers around her delicate neck, I pin her in place as I curl my fingers and pump into her tight heat with a steady pace.
“Dante.”
That’s fucking right—that sound right there. There’s no hiding her reaction in the throaty way she whispers my name.
My voice is dark, reflecting the color of the thought that torments me. “Have you gotten wet for another man?”
Those beautiful eyes fly open. She stares at me with magnificent pools of sad, haunted green.
“Have you, Tatiana?” I keep my fingers still inside her and press a thumb on her clit. “Has your cunt gotten this wet around another man’s fingers?”
She only continues to observe me with a big, frightened gaze.
I want her to say it, no matter what the answer is. This isn’t a truth I can live without. I can’t let another man who touched her continue to breathe. I’ll hunt them all down and bring her little pieces of them like that ring and the tooth. I’ll make sure she understands what any such man’s fate is.
I roll her clit beneath the pad of my thumb, drawing slow circles until she’s panting. “Answer me.”
She protests with an exhale. “Dante.”
Good answer but not the one I want right now.
She whimpers when I pull my fingers out. I move the hand I have wrapped around her neck down the elegant column of her throat. The marks I left have faded. She’s no longer hiding behind a scarf. Only behind her silence.
I draw my hand lower and flatten it between her breasts on her heaving chest. Her heart beats with heavy thuds beneath my fingers. The hard tips of her tits push against the fabric of her dress. I palm one of those perfect curves. She mewls when I punish her nipple, pinching it lightly before rolling it between a forefinger and thumb.
“Answer me, Tatiana. Has another man touched you here?”
She lifts her hands from where she’s clutching the edge of the vanity and pushes on my shoulders. “Dante, please.”
“Please, what?” I cup her other tit too, filling both my hands. “Please, stop? With this?” I pinch her other nipple. “Or with the questions?”
She yelps but arches into the touch.
Holding her gaze, I take her ankles and bend her knees. She balances her feet on the edge of the vanity, already looking vanquished with her skirt bunched up around her middle, her knees spread, and her soaking wet pussy on display. She watches me, her eyes dark with lust, as I lower my head and kiss the inside of her leg.
I do it again, tenderly, and she doesn’t pull away. She opens her knees wider when I trail kisses up her inner thigh. She doesn’t utter a chirp, but she jerks when I end my path between her legs.
I flick my tongue over her clit. “Has another man kissed you here?”
She arches her hips and threads her fingers through my hair. “Dante, stop it.”
I kiss her pussy like she won’t let me kiss her mouth, softly and thoroughly, bringing her right to the edge, and then I stop.
She looks at me through her long lashes, following my actions as I unzip and take out my cock. When I line the crest up with her pussy, she braces her hands on the vanity behind her and locks her elbows to catch her weight on her arms.
I enter her with a single thrust, burying myself as deep as she can take me. Her inner muscles flutter around me as they adapt to the stretch. She almost loses her balance, but when she takes her feet off the vanity to lock her ankles behind my ass, I slap her thigh hard.
She yelps again, growing even slicker around my cock.
“Keep your legs open, and don’t look away from me.”
A frown mars her forehead. She focuses on my face, her need clearly written on hers.
