Chapter 9
9
G ia
Dante captures my lips with his and pulls me into a tight embrace. A wall of heat and strength surrounds me for a moment, and I can barely breathe. Then, he moves his lips on mine, coaxing his tongue into my mouth—and breathing becomes a near-impossible task.
My brain slips into overdrive, with shots of adrenaline fired into different parts of me. Dante kisses me with intensity, his tongue stroking mine with fiery need. Then he turns around, and I’m slammed between him and the wall behind me. Damn.
No one ever kissed me like this.
He devours my mouth like he wants to extract every little secret and explore every little bit. I touch his chest, feeling his muscles bunch as he shudders. He’s warm, rock-hard, and aroused. When I lower my hand to the front of his pants, his cock salutes me, and I bask in the opportunity, cupping his bulge. Even over his pants, I can tell it’s pulsing for me, and that awareness sends a wave of heat from top to bottom.
I need to see more. I need to do more.
He nips my lower lip, and a shot of lust flies through my veins. Then, he holds my wrist. “Not here.”
I blink at his refusal, confused, then understand what he means when he pulls me from his suite through the hallway to my bedroom. Of course. AJ was sleeping in the crib. How did I forget?
We barrel into my bedroom, the cast from the moon spilling over the floor and furniture through the glass door. He holds me from behind, slams me against the wall. This man likes doing that, and I’m not fighting him. Right now, if he swings me over the chandelier, I won’t complain.
He kisses my neck, and I melt into him. “Are you safe?”
“Yes,” I say, glad he remembered to ask. “You?”
“Me too. Are you using birth control?”
“No,” I say. A memory of the reason why comes rushing into my brain. Me on the floor, crying. No, screaming. I will it away like I’ve done so many other times.
Dante stops touching me. “I need to find a condom.”
I realize what he means. Of course, he doesn’t want another unplanned pregnancy. Then I say the truth bottled in my throat. “I... I can’t have babies.”
“What?”
“I can’t… ever get pregnant.”
Oh, man. That’s it. He’s going to leave me—not that I think he’d want to impregnate me, but I assume the fact I’m damaged goods makes me less desirable in general. If only he knew.
He tips up my chin and makes me look at him. Even though the moonlight is the only energy source in the room, I see golden sparks in his green irises, and his eyes look like a forest catching fire. Is he going to ask me what happened? Insecurities twist my gut and wrap my middle section. If he does, there’s no way this can go on.
“Filling your bare pussy with my cum. Works for me,” he says, kissing me again, this time with a tenderness that wasn’t there earlier. But I don’t want tenderness—that will slow things down and make me think, and I don’t want to think.
I dip my hand down his pants and pull just enough for his cock to jut out. I saw it the other day, but palming it is priceless. He groans against my lips, and I squeeze his cock, earning another small groan.
He quickly gets the idea and accepts my silent suggestion instead of questioning me. “Have at it, sweetheart.”
I fall to my knees, and he drops his pants all the way and kicks them to the side.
I lick his cock with the tip of my tongue, swirling it around him, feeling him and becoming acquainted with the velvety skin and the hard rock underneath it. He tastes good, and I play with his balls, rolling them over my fingers. One, then the other.
Oh, God.
My pussy is wet. Just doing this excites me and sends a fresh coat of cream to my sex. I bet he can smell my arousal in the air.
I bring him into my mouth, as much as I can take. The taste of him is delicious, and I drive him in and out of my mouth quickly until my saliva coats his entire dick like I’m branding him. I have this strange urge to claim his cock—when I know I have no right to. Yet the urge is there, latent and undeniable.
“You’re a greedy cock sucker, aren’t you?” he asks, an edge to his voice that I never heard before. “Fuck.”
Encouraged, I suck him, using my hands to touch what I can’t put in my mouth. A deep desire to drive this man crazy awakens inside me, and I have no power over it. I’ve never felt anything like this, and the rawness scares me.
“Lucia.”
He grabs a handful of my hair and tugs at it a little, disconnecting my mouth from his cock. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Keeping my head in place with one hand, he positions his cock at my mouth with the other. I poke out my tongue, tasting the precum soaking his thick head. He pulls my hair, the ache sensitizing my scalp. I moan, so turned on.
I lift my gaze to him, and he greets me with a close-lipped smile, a curvy line in the semi-dark that sends my heart into a tailspin.
He spits into his palm, then spreads it generously on his dick and demands, “Lick me.”
I follow his command and lap my tongue over his cock, licking his saliva off like I’m finishing the best dish in the world. Then, when I’m almost done, he slams his cock past my lips and starts to fuck my mouth hard.
I would have fallen backward if he weren’t tugging my hair to keep my head in place. Hell, my knees are weak, my body already trembling.
“Yes. Swallow all of me, baby girl. You can do it.”
With each thrust, he drives himself deeper into my mouth, putting my throat muscles to the ultimate test. I nearly lose balance, but once again, he pulls at my hair. The strands tangled around his hand tighten, hurting me a bit.
I can barely breathe. He plunges in and out of my mouth, defying my gag reflexes, and each time I try to keep up, the frenzy of it leaves me dizzy. At last, he jerks his cock and spills his cum inside. I swallow him, his hot load streaming down my throat.
“Good girl. Lick me clean.”
I know he’s watching me, so when he finishes spurting, I take his cock out of my mouth and lick every bit of it, the flat of my tongue cleaning him off. He angles my head so I lick his balls, too, lost in a daze of shamelessness.
“Enough,” he says, swiftly pulling me to my feet and taking me to bed.
I’m reeling from what we experienced. Even though I didn’t come, I feel different because it was about him. Hooked. On a high. Unable to focus on anything else but what’s happening now.
He eases me on the mattress and parts my legs.
When he nips my thighs, I almost jump from the bed. Fuck, he isn’t playing. Then, he immediately licks the area where he nipped. I close my eyes, so turned on it’s insane. He nips my other thigh, repeating the ritual, and my internal temperature rises dangerously.
I open my eyes and look down. As he dips his head, the expression in his eyes is like a shark about to devour its victim. His green eyes darken to black, but the rings of gold around the irises remind me that he’s still the same guy. Arousal amplifies within me, and I don’t break the stare, entranced by it.
“Dante,” I hiss.
He dives into my pussy, swiping the flat of his tongue against my wet flesh. I lean back and finally let my hair fall on the pillow again, the rush of blood so strong I’m dizzy.
He licks my pussy, running his tongue along my sex, sliding it over my clit, giving his mouth a naughty tour of my most sensitive part. I buck my hips forward, offering myself to him like a human tray. I want him to have me. I’ve never felt any of these intense emotions engulfing me, clawing through my chest and clutching my throat.
He delves deeper into me, thrusting his tongue, and adds two fingers, which he curls as he looks for my G-spot. I mewl, beyond turned on, so close to the edge, so fucking close.
I thrust my fingers into his hair, taking him where I want him. He finds my G-spot, teasing me. I contract, my core rock hard for a split second, and then, I let go, coming as he licks me, driving his fingers in and out of me restlessly, which triggers another orgasm.
I thrash my head from side to side, a wave of fresh cream pouring out of me, my limbs shaking, my heart about to leave my body.
I’m still recovering, in a haze of sweaty glow, when he disengages from my pussy and works his way up, giving my body open-mouthed kisses. He closes his lips on my belly, on my breast, on my neck like he wants to inhale me. Like he wants to possess a part of me that can detach from my body and latch on to his.
I’m willing to give it to him. This fire, this despair I’ve never felt before.
His mouth crashes on mine, and it’s a long, hot, dirty kiss. He grabs a handful of my hair and tugs at it, leaving my scalp super sensitive. A current of awareness dips lower, and I wrap my legs around him.
We’re naked, entangled, hot for each other.
He positions his cock at my entrance, and the promise that the thick head carries is enough to set my blood ablaze. He eases inside, one inch at a time, and my inner walls clamp around him, the delightful sensation of complete fullness taking over me.
Then, he looks into my eyes, and we’re both silent.
The silence lingers, and it quickly rattles me. Bad memories rush into my mind before I can protest and shut them off. I take a deep breath to center myself, and when I do so, his cock feels even tighter inside me, an ache pulsing in between my legs.
I still want him, but voices echo in my ears.
You think you’re something special? You’re a loser.
Why didn’t you tell me you’d be late tonight? Are you fucking your coworker?
I’ll show you not to disrespect me again, bitch.
The sound of a slap across my face, followed by another and another, resonates vividly inside me as if it just happened. I try to blink myself out of this episode, this awful memory that quickens my heart rate in the worst way. But now, it’s different—harder than the other times.
“What is it?” Dante asks, a frown forming on his forehead.
“Talk to me,” I blurt out. “I don’t like quiet.” I lie. I like quiet, but this is the first time we’re having sex. It’s the first time I’ve had someone inside me since I left my ex. And I can’t think of Ciro right now. Then other memories—the pig-like grunting noises Ciro made, how his face twisted when he screwed me, and how fucking heavy his body was the second after he came—when he’d lay on me, regardless of how much bigger he was, for a long ass time, hurting me.
Those ugly images menace me. Dante must pick up on it because he doesn’t move and looks at me intently. “You’re scared.”
“Talk to me,” I whisper, a trace of despair in my voice like I’m about to run out of breath. If we don’t have sex now, this will be a failure. The problem will present itself, and I’ll be worse off. My past won’t be only a lingering uninvited guest; it’ll become a permanent resident of my mind. “You can do whatever you want. But don’t stop talking.”
It is as though we’re walking in a dangerous neighborhood at night, on foot, and I stretch out my hand to him—then when he gives it to me, I cling to it.
He lifts his eyebrow and shifts, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll up and leave. He’s a hot man. He can find any woman willing to fuck him. A woman less messed up, without issues. Who am I? I’m nobody. And he’s a successful mafia boss.
Tears form in my eyes, and I close them violently, blinking them back. If I cry right now, the sex will be over. Dante will never touch me again. And I may never get over my past. Strangely, I know Dante holds the key to unlocking this trauma and helping me overcome it—even if he doesn’t know it. I need him now.
He watches me, and his expression softens. “Whatever I want,” he says and nips my jaw. “You’ll regret being so generous.”
I swallow the lump of uncertainty lodged in my throat. “Prove me wrong.”