15. Dante #2
Her pathetic little mewl causes my knees to weaken. With excruciating slowness, I pull my fingers out and swirl her swollen bud with her slickness. “Good girl. How’s that?”
I cut off another one of her unintelligible noises by plunging back inside her. In this small space, her cry almost deafens me.
I love the way she falls apart under my touch, and as I fuck her with my fingers, her whole body pitches forward and back like she’s the puppet and I’m her puppeteer.
My cock leaks from the tip, begging for friction, but I’m not finished with Sara yet.
Not until I’ve reduced her to a sobbing, soaking mess.
I know she’s close when she starts pushing back against my thrusts.
“Look at you riding my hand. You want to come on my fingers, don’t you?
” I try to keep my voice cruel and mocking, but I have no doubt she can hear the need that roughens every vowel.
I crave her release just as much as she does. Maybe more.
“Please, Dante!” Sara glances at me from over her shoulder, and I’ll be damned if her begging doesn’t tighten my balls. I rip my fingers free to swirl her clit in small circles.
“Dante!” She chokes on my name as her body convulses under my ministrations, and I mold my lips to the dip above the swell of her ass while she rides out the spasms.
Humming, I nip at her salty, sweat-drenched skin and pin her down when she tries to sit up. “Not yet, coniglietta. I need to taste the fruits of my labors.”
She moans as I kneel behind her and bury my tongue in her cunt.
She cants forward to steady herself on the sauna bench, but then she’s arching the curve of her backside and widening her legs to give me better access to those pretty pink folds.
My hands grip her ass with bruising force as I spread her open even wider.
“Fuck. You’re so pretty down here. So soft and pink.
” With a growl, I devour her with my tongue, relearning all the soft, wet parts of her I used to have memorized.
She tastes good. Better than the memories I clung to in my darkest hours.
Only seconds pass before she starts quivering around my tongue and her leg muscles tense for the inevitable climax.
For the briefest second, I toy with the idea of denying her and leaving her wanting like I did at the club.
But when it comes to my tesoro, I’ve always been too weak for my own good.
Reaching between the soft flesh of her thighs, I strum her oversensitive clit until she screams, soaking my lips with another candied release. I drink down every drop like a man dying of thirst. “Fucking perfect.”
By the time I stumble to my feet, I’m intoxicated. Drunk on pure Sara. She tosses her plaited hair over one shoulder as I fist my cock. I rub the head along her entrance from behind before sinking inside with a guttural noise. “You’re so damn tight.”
All the thoughts in my brain melt away, and for once, I let myself exist here without consequence.
Sara’s panting, her walls clenching and unclenching around me as her body blossoms like a flower. I wind her braids around my hand in warning. “If you don’t stop that, this is going to be over too fast.”
She relaxes as soon as the warning tumbles from my mouth, and I bite back a smirk. She needs this just as much as I do.
After a long moment of recounting Nonna’s wrinkled smile, I start to test Sara’s depth.
A groan rips from my throat, betraying the control I’m trying to maintain.
I don’t want her to know how amazing she feels, how she’s ruined me for all other women.
Because the raw truth is that I haven’t been with anyone since Sara.
Years. Years spent denying myself so many pretty smiles and sinful bodies because they weren’t her.
Every piss poor excuse to Marco about being too busy to join him at the strip club or the bar was a flat out lie.
I just couldn’t bear to erase my tesoro’s touch.
And on nights the urge proved too strong, my hand provided an inferior substitute.
Now that she’s here, I’m not going to hold. Wrapping my arms around her curved waist, I use her weight to drive her down the length of my shaft over and over again. It’s like the old days, but so much better because I’m not hiding the animal in me anymore.
She embraces the darkness I once thought would send her screaming, and I come in mere minutes, buried so deep inside of her that I can feel the exact moment her third orgasm seizes her.
This is supposed to be about revenge. About exorcising the demons playing around in my head.
But this is also Sara. My Sara. I was always going to find my way back to her, and denial will only cost me.
As she collapses onto the bench, I trace her spine with my tongue.
We can’t go back now, so why not lean in?
Regular visits to satisfy my obsession should be enough to maintain a clear head.
I’ll let her stay and play with her for a while longer, at least until I find the Ghost.
And then what?
Sara squirms in my arms, her breath ragged. I bend closer and capture the lobe of her ear between my teeth. “Not so fast.” We’re alone in the house, but I still whisper, my words only meant for her. “I’m not done with you yet. No by a long shot.”