Chapter 32 #2
I can feel her body starting to tighten, her thighs beginning to tremble around my head. She’s close, so fucking close. I pull my mouth away.
“No—Dante, please—”
I look up. Her eyes are glazed, her lips parted. “Say it.”
“Say what?” she pants, frustration edging her voice.
I lean in and blow a cool breath over her wetness, making her shudder violently. “Say you’re mine.”
“Dante—”
I give her what she wants for just a second. One hard, fast lick that has her back arching off the couch. Then I stop. “Say it, Bianca.”
“Fine! I’m yours. I’m yours. Happy?”
“Getting there.” I smirk and go back to work, but I’m not gentle anymore. I’m fucking relentless. I wrap my lips around her clit and suck, hard, while my tongue flicks over it. I slide two fingers inside her, and she is so wet, so ready, they slide in with no resistance.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, Bianca. Soaking my fucking fingers.”
I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her scream into her own hand. My other hand slides up her body, cupping her breast through her dress, my thumb rubbing over her nipple until it’s a hard peak. I want to feel her come. I want to taste it.
Her breathing is ragged, sobbing. Her heels dig into my back, trying to pull me closer. I’m fucking her with my fingers, fucking her with my mouth, and all I can hear are her muffled cries and the wet, filthy sounds of me eating her out.
“That’s it,” I growl against her, my voice vibrating through her entire body. “Come for me. Come all over my fucking face.”
It’s all she needs. Her body seizes up, a violent, beautiful tremor that rocks through her.
She comes with a broken cry, her thighs clamping around my head as she shakes, and I don’t let up.
I keep sucking, keep licking, keep driving her through it until she’s pushing at my head, overstimulated and sensitive.
I pull back, breathing heavily, my chin soaked with her. I look up at her, collapsed on the couch, completely wrecked. Her hand has fallen from her mouth, and she’s just staring at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling like she’s just run a mile.
I lean forward, bracing my hands on the couch on either side of her hips, and bring my mouth to hers. I kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips, on my tongue. She moans into the kiss, her hands coming up to clutch at my shoulders.
You’re mine now, I think, sucking on her lower lip. You wanted the beast, baby. Now you’ve got him.
"Your turn," she says breathlessly.
"What?"
She slides off the couch onto the floor, her hands already reaching for my belt. "Fair is fair."
I should stop her. Should tell her we need to get back to the party before someone notices we're gone.
Instead, I lean back against the couch and let her work.
She doesn’t rush. She’s savoring this, pulling my pants and briefs down just enough to free my cock, which is already hard and aching for her. The cool air of the room hits my heated skin for a second before her warm fingers wrap around the base.
Fuck.
She just holds me for a moment, her thumb stroking the underside, and I look down to see her staring with a kind of reverence that makes my blood pound. Her lips are parted, her breath warm against the sensitive head.
She doesn’t just dive in. She leans forward and brushes her lips against the tip, the lightest, most fucking torturous kiss I’ve ever felt. It’s a ghost of a touch, a promise. I fist my hands in the carpet to keep from grabbing her head.
Her tongue darting out to trace a slow, wet circle around the crown. I buck my hips involuntarily, a jolt of pure pleasure shooting straight up my spine.
Jesus Christ.
She opens her mouth and finally takes me in, not all the way, just the head, and the heat is fucking incredible.
She swirls her tongue around me, licking and sucking gently, and I can feel the wet, velvety heat of her mouth pulling me deeper.
Her hand is still working my shaft, a steady, slick pressure that matches the rhythm of her mouth.
I look down and the sight is fucking pornographic.
Bianca on her knees, her dark hair falling around her face, her beautiful lips stretched around my cock.
Her eyes are locked on mine, watching every flinch, every reaction she pulls from me.
She’s studying me, learning what I like, and she’s a quick fucking study.
She's good at this. Too good. The thought of where she learned makes jealousy spike through me, but then her mouth is on me and I stop thinking about anything except the way she looks on her knees.
"You're so eager," I manage. "My good little girl, aren't you? On your knees where you belong."
She makes a sound around me—half protest, half agreement.
I grip her hair, not controlling but guiding. "That's it. Take it deeper. Show me what that smart mouth is really good for."
She does just that.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan, my voice rough. “Just like that. Take me deeper.”
She moans in response, the vibration shooting through me like lightning, and she obliges, sinking down until I feel the back of her throat.
She gags slightly, pulling back with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to me.
She doesn’t stop. She gasps for air and goes right back down, taking me deeper this time, her throat relaxing around me.
“Fuck, Bianca, your mouth… it’s so goddamn good.
” I can’t help it. I slide one hand into her hair, not forcing, just holding, feeling the silken strands against my fingers.
She picks up the pace, her head bobbing, her hand twisting on the downstroke.
The wet, sucking sounds are obscene and perfect.
She’s not just doing this; she’s worshipping me.
Every flick of her tongue, every deep throat, every time she hollows her cheeks is a prayer.
I’m losing my fucking mind. “You look so good like this. On your knees for me. Your perfect lips wrapped around my cock.” I thrust my hips up slightly, meeting her rhythm, and she takes it, her eyes watering but never leaving mine.
“You’re mine, remember? You said it. This pretty fucking mouth is mine. ”
She hums in agreement, the sound vibrating through my entire body, pushing me closer to the edge. The pressure is building, coiling tight in my gut. I’m close, so fucking close.
I pull her off. She looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes dark.
"Turn around," I tell her. "Hands on the couch."
She does. I flip her dress up, admire the view for half a second before bringing my hand down on her ass. Hard enough to make a sound. To leave a mark.
She yelps.
"That's for flirting." Another slap, other side.
"I wasn't—"
"Quiet." I smooth my hand over the red marks, then slide two fingers inside her. She's ready. More than ready. "This is what you wanted. To be reminded who's in charge."
I work her with my fingers until she's shaking, right on the edge again. Then I pull out, replace them with my cock, pushing in hard and fast.
We both groan.
I set a brutal pace, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides around to work her clit. The couch creaks with each thrust but I don't care. Don't care if someone hears. Don't care about anything except making her fall apart.
"Come for me," I order. "Right now."
She does. Clenching around me, her whole body going tight before she collapses forward.
I follow seconds later, spilling inside her with a groan I barely manage to muffle.
For a long moment, we just stay there. Breathing hard. Connected.
Then reality crashes back.
We're at a party. We've been gone for at least twenty minutes. People have definitely noticed.
I pull out carefully, help her stand. Find her underwear and hand it to her.
"We can't keep doing this."
"I know."
But we both know we will anyway.
I unlock the door, check the hallway. Empty.
"Fix your hair," I tell her. "And your lipstick."
She does, using a compact from her small purse. When she's done, she looks almost normal. Almost like we didn't just fuck in a storage room during a formal gala.
"Ready?" I offer my arm.
She takes it. "This doesn't mean anything."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself."
We walk back to the party. Back to the performance. Back to pretending this is all still fake.
But the ring in my pocket—the one Marco delivered this morning—feels heavier with each step.
Soon, I'm going to make this real.
Whether she's ready or not.