32. Lucia #2
It’s a hurt I caused, so I need to fix it.
“Lucia—”
Propelling myself onto my tippy-toes, I kiss him before another word can leave his mouth.
Shock is Dante’s initial reaction to my boldness, but he quickly recovers. As his arms band around my waist, he returns my embrace.
We kiss for several long minutes, our hands as exploratory as our tongues.
I’ve unbuttoned Dante’s dress shirt and am tackling his belt when the covers on my bed brush the undersides of my knees. Never pulling away from my mouth, he lays me on the bed, then wedges his trouser-covered thigh between my legs.
Layers of clothes separate us, but my clit responds as if we’re both naked. I grind against his thigh and breathe heavily into his mouth when the quickest rub shoots sparks across the lower half of my stomach.
My shoulders join and my back arches when Dante drags his lips down my neck. He sucks on my neck, marking me, before his mouth lowers to my budded nipples. I’m not wearing a bra, so when he sucks the peaked bud into his mouth through my sleep shirt, a moan rumbles up my chest.
“Mmm,” I moan, melting under his touch. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could do this alone. Even while imagining you doing precisely this, your hands feel ten times better than mine.”
He drags his tongue along the column of my neck, pausing at my ear. “You’ve touched yourself while thinking about me?”
His question is full of lust, but I am compelled to make eye contact. He said he doesn’t remember that night, but how is that possible? I understand a lapse in memory when you’re drunk, but once you sober up, anything you did before you were drunk is usually crystal clear.
Nothing but curiosity flashes in his lustful gaze, so I nod absentmindedly.
Dante growls, and it puts my interrogation to bed on what happened that night. I’ll get answers—just not until I’ve climaxed first.
With his bright smile fading the pain still filtering in his eyes, he removes my sleep shirt, then slowly slithers down my body. I thrust my head back and moan when his lips skim my side boob, then I grunt in annoyance when they tickle my ribs.
Dante only smiles.
“Yes,” I breathe heavily into the air as he drags the tip of his nose down my panties, dampening the scant material more.
Although this is meant to be about repairing the damage I caused, I don’t protest when Dante glides my panties down my quivering thighs before he settles between them.
It would be criminal to stop him now. His smirk is the smuggest to date, and there’s too much lust in his eyes for a little bit of hurt to push through.
“Tell me to stop if you need me to.”
He waits for me to nod before he spears his tongue through the lines of my pussy and buries it deep inside me.
As my fingers seek something to sink into, he eats me with greedy, perfectly placed licks and kisses.
He takes me to the brink of ecstasy using nothing but his mouth, and I love every fucking minute of it.
This is what sex is meant to be about. Connection. Heat. Love.
It isn’t something you can buy.
Tension this hot can’t be manufactured.
“Dante…” I murmur when his fingers slide over my wet center before he slowly stuffs two inside me.
My blood begins to boil when he applies the perfect amount of pressure on my clit with his tongue, as he does with his fingers on my G-spot.
I peer down at him, moaning when I notice he’s watching me. He drinks in every expression that crosses my face and smirks through every squirm.
“So fucking perfect,” he groans against my pussy lips as the tension boils over and I’m blindsided by a climax.
As I shiver through waves of ecstasy, he lowers his thumb to my clit and makes slow, deliberate circles. He toys with the nervy bud while showering me with praise until my tense muscles relax and the second finish line presents.
Stars reform fast when I wedge my foot between his body and the mattress. He’s so hard the mattress springs are digging into his cock.
While he eats me as if he’s starving, I jerk him off with my foot. It sounds awkward, but the amount of pre-cum soaking the material covering his impressive manhood confirms Dante finds it as hot as I do.
“God, I want to taste you,” I murmur, the fantasy in my head too white-hot to keep to myself.
Dante’s hot breath floats over my soaked pussy. “Soon. I want you to come again first. Then you can do whatever the fuck you want to me, angelo.”
Christ, he’s sexy when he’s blistering with confidence. Only minutes ago, he was carrying the world on his shoulders. Now the heaviness has slipped away.
I did that.
Me.
It feels great admitting that.
His attention to my clit is perfect, better than I’ve ever experienced. My first time didn’t involve much foreplay. There wasn’t enough time. If I wanted to make it out of that storage closet alive, my first time had to be fast and dirty.
Don’t get me wrong. It was amazing. I just prefer to pretend it was terrible because the man who had wooed me out of my panties in less than an hour wasn’t close to who I thought he’d be when his mask slipped.
“Oh god,” I cry out when the tingles ramp up.
“You’re doing so good,” Dante says, curling his fingers. “Keep going.”
Waves of pleasure ripple low in my stomach. I writhe against his mouth, grinding out the orgasm threatening to pull me under.
“Ride the wave, Lucia.”
For a brief second, Dante freezes. Not for long, but long enough for the wave to crest just short of the target.
My climax is still earth-shattering, and it sucks the last of my energy, but Dante refuses to relent.
He toys with my clit and licks up the remnants of my arousal until I free-fall into orgasmic bliss for the third time this evening.
I can barely lift my head when he scoots off the bed. He stands at the foot, then lowers his eyes to my naked form, his eyes flickering with the memories rolling through his head.
“Show me.” His voice is thick, and it shreds through worry when he says, “Show me what we did that night.”
Even though I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically, I lower my hand to my pussy.
When I roll my clit between my thumb and index finger, every muscle in Dante’s body pulls taut.
God, he’s a beautiful man. His body is pure perfection, and his cock, even hidden by designer trousers, is awe-inspiring.
I should be embarrassed touching myself in front of him, but I’m not. Who would feel something as weak as humiliation when you’re being stared at like you’re everything?
Wanting to give Dante an accurate representation of the night he busted me touching myself, I lower my eyes to the crotch of his pants and lick my lips. He follows the deviant movie in my head to a tee. He strokes his cock through his trousers while slowly stepping forward.
“Did you come?” he asks, his voice husky with arousal.
I nod before adding words to the mix. “Yes. With your guidance.”
His growl hits every one of my hot buttons. “Then do that now. Make yourself come.”
“Okay.” I wet two fingers before breaching them past the opening of my pussy.
As my thumb circles my clit, I return my eyes to Dante’s crotch.
Like the first time we did this, he’s no longer stroking his cock through his trousers.
It’s thrusting in and out of his circled fist in rhythm to the frantic throbs of my clit. “Oh…”
“Eyes, Lucia. Keep them open.”
My mouth falls open, and I gasp when he moves close enough for our thrusting arms to touch. My wildest dream is coming true again, and it takes everything I have to stave off another orgasm.
“Oh god. I’m… I’m…”
Intense pleasure radiates through me when Dante’s cock exposes that he’s as close to the edge as I am. The veins feeding his girthy length pulsate as the crown is swamped with pre-cum.
“Dante…”
He watches every breathless squirm rocketing through my body, fighting not to turn his eyes to the door. It’s closed.
A lack of privacy is the cause of his fret. It’s his memories slowly seeping back in.
He knows what happened that night. He just refuses to let those secrets burn us at the stake for the second time.
He’s putting me first.