27. Riley
I may have beenthe one to start it, but Dante takes over the minute our lips touch. He owns my mouth, taking the kiss from spontaneous to scorching so fast that I’m left reeling. And then it gets even hotter. He breaks away just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside, then he shoves mine up too, so we’re skin to skin with one of his hands down my pants and the other back around my throat.
“More,” I pant into his mouth, grinding against his body as he takes mine apart.
Dante chuckles, a low, sensual vibration I feel all the way through me, and delivers. Sucking and licking. Biting and soothing. Driving me crazy when he shoves a hard thigh between my legs to give my aching, wet pussy something to grind against.
I get lost in heat and hunger and passion, and when he tugs on my hair, tilting my head back and exposing my neck as he forces us both to come up for air for a moment, I have no idea how much time has passed.
I don’t care, either.
“Damn, princess. You taste better every fucking time,” he says with a dirty grin.
“You sure about that?” I ask, getting another low, rumbling laugh against sensitive skin in reply.
He grips my throat again, just tight enough to send a bolt of pure fire down to my core. “I’m sure.” His eyes bore into mine as my pulse flutters madly against his palm. “But maybe I should keep checking just to be positive, yeah?”
“Fuck yes,” I breathe out, then make a sinful sound when he leans down and licks a long stripe up my neck. I can’t resist teasing him a little, though, so I add, “Unless you want to get back to your painting.”
“Good idea,” he says, rolling his hips against me so I can feel how hard his shaft is. “You remember how you painted in here with me before?”
He’s got me mostly undressed now, but still has too much on himself. And by too much, I mean his jeans.
I want his cock out. And then I want it inside me.
And he wants to talk about painting.
“Do I remember… what?” I pant, rocking against him.
“Painting, princess.” He grins down at me, hot and dirty, and smooths my hair back from my face. “You were fucking gorgeous. Wild and free. Paint with me again.”
I thought we were going to fuck.
No, I need to fuck.
“You want to paint? Right now? Instead of sex?”
Heat flashes across his face, his eyes hooded and dark with lust as he steps away from me. “Hey now, no one said anything about one or the other.”
My whole body is thrumming, blood hot and skin prickling with want. It clouds my ability to think, or to make sense of it when he grabs the canvas he was working on when I walked in—still half bare and dripping with thick, sensual globs of paint—and sets it against the wall. He places the palette of those same thick, rich paints right next to it, then beckons me over, pulling me against him and running a hand down my body. “No reason to have to choose. I want it all.”
I grind against him. “Then take it.”
His grin is positively filthy. “Give it to me. Sit on my face, right here. Give me that taste I need while you finish this painting for me. Wanna see what you do with it while I make you come on my tongue.”
I laugh, heat flashing through me at the crazy suggestion. Then I realize he’s actually serious when he hands me a brush, and all that heat turns into molten, liquid lust that pools hot and slick in the cleft between my legs, like my body is begging him to take that taste he just told me he wants.
“Is that a yes, princess?”
“Yes,” I pant as he quickly finishes stripping off my clothes and lowers himself to the floor.
He pulls me up to straddle his face, hands hard and commanding on my hips as he drags his tongue through my center.
Fire licks in its wake, sending a demanding spike of pure need and urgent want through me.
“Fuck,” I gasp, lurching forward and bracing my hands on the wall, one on either side of his dripping canvas.
He groans and does it again, licking me like candy. The rough, end-of-day stubble on his chin abrades my thighs, sending little zings of sensation through me in perfect counterpoint to the warm slide of his tongue through my slit.
“So fucking good, princess.”
“God, yes,” I pant, flexing my thighs in an effort to lift away from his face so he can breathe.
He yanks me back down with a throaty laugh. “No hovering. I need you to soak my face. Get it wetter than that canvas, babe. I want to drown in you.”
I can’t.
I want to.
He doesn’t give me a choice, holding me against him tight enough to bruise and burying his face in my pussy like he has gills.
“Dante, shit, please… don’t… don’t stop,” I beg, shamelessly grinding down against his wickedly perfect tongue and riding it hard.
The hungry sounds that spill out of him spur me on, and I lose myself in it. In him. In the hot, musky scent of sex as it mingles with the rich, earthy paint odors. Dante eats me out with a messy, single-minded determination that has me right on the brink of coming before I can even catch my breath.
Then he reaches up and pushes two fingers in my mouth, twisting his face to the side and pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against my inner thigh while I suck them.
“Get them sloppy for me, princess. And grab that paint brush.”
I moan and nod, lathing his fingers with my tongue before sucking them deep. I’d do anything for him right now.
“So good for me,” he mutters. Then he dives back into my pussy and slides his wet fingers out of my mouth with a pop, barely giving me a chance to whine about the loss before I’m gasping and cursing him out when he slips them into my ass instead.
“Fuck.”
It’s a burning invasion that pushes me right to the edge, but then Dante pulls his mouth away from my clit and growls at me, “Paint. Do it. Show me. In color.”
His words don’t make any sense and all I care about right now is how fucking good he’s making me feel, but somehow, I understand him anyway. He wants to see it. He wants to see all the hot, urgent, spiraling need inside me thrown onto the canvas.
And he’s not going to let me come until I do it.
“You motherfucker,” I gasp, scrabbling for the fallen paint brush and blindly stabbing it at the palette.
Blue. The paint that coats the soft bristles looks slick and wet and decadent.
I slather it on the canvas, leaving a thick purple smear behind as the new paint mixes with the red that was already there.
“Fucking beautiful,” Dante mutters, humming against my clit in satisfaction. Then he sucks on it hard, two fingers still buried in my ass and stretching it to the point of pain, and an orgasm rips through me that’s just as hot and sloppy as his mouth.
“Oh fuck, yes, Dante.”
He smiles against my pussy, I feel it, but he doesn’t let up.
Of course he doesn’t.
“Again,” he demands, fingering my ass in a hard, fast rhythm that makes me crave his cock. Then he plunges his tongue inside me, fucking me with it in the same rhythm, and I’m right there. Ready to give him exactly what he wants. Needing to.
Then the fucker stops.
“Paint, princess.”
I stare down at him, his face slick with my arousal and his green eyes almost seeming lit from within, thin, vibrant rings of color around pupils blown wide with lust as he stares back up at me.
“What?” I pant, rocking over his face as my inner muscles clench and yearn, my body already greedy for more. “Dante.”
His lips spread in a hot grin, his voice muffled and thick, and he plants slow kisses along my slick thighs, never taking his eyes off me. “I know exactly what you need. I’m also pretty sure I told you to paint.”
It takes a minute for the meaning of his words to trickle through the cloud of need I’m floating on, but when it does, I shakily scoop up a dollop of bright green paint with the brush—paint that’s the same color as Dante’s eyes—and splatter it onto the canvas.
Dante instantly rewards me, and the wave of fierce pleasure that rocks through me as I come again almost whites out my vision.
“Fuck. Oh fuck, please,” I babble, my thighs shaking as the aftershocks shudder through me.
“More,” Dante mutters. “Fill it.”
I want him to fill me, but I know he means the canvas… and it doesn’t matter that I’ve just come twice in a row. His tongue is addictive and the filthy onslaught of my senses as his thick fingers fuck my ass turn me into a greedy bitch who wants him to push me harder. Give it to me again. Make me scream for him.
I moan his name and slash the brush across the painting in front of me without any rhyme, rhythm, or reason other than to make sure he doesn’t stop. Every color on the palette is a bright jewel, and they crowd together in random bursts and messy swaths that burst with the same vivid pleasure he pulls out of my body.
The canvas starts to look like I sound.
Shameless.
Desperate.
Carnal.
It’s fucking beautiful, just like Dante said.
He hums against my swollen clit, lapping at it until I’m begging again, until I’m babbling and right on the cusp of another bone-melting orgasm. He’s pulled back each time I’ve forgotten to paint for him, edging me to the brink of insanity, but this time he doesn’t stop. He tips me right over that peak, and I scream his name.
“Dante!”
I fall forward, the paintbrush in my hand leaving a long, wet smear down the left side of the painting. Dante’s sinful mouth never leaves my pussy, and I catch myself with both hands against the wall, my shoulder smacking into the canvas as the overload of pleasure leaves me trembling and boneless.
“Not done yet, princess,” Dante mutters, hauling me back where he wants me.
“I can’t,” I whisper, already wanting it anyway even though I don’t think I can take it.
Dante proves me wrong, and this time, he doesn’t force me to paint for it again.
This time, I’m pretty sure he’s just as gone as I am.
He straight-up growls, eating my pussy like a man possessed until he makes me come for him again. Then he slides out from under me and hauls me up to my knees, pressing up against me from behind, our bodies molded together from shoulders to groin.
“Look at it,” he rasps, the rough denim of his jeans sending shocks of pleasure through me as he rubs up against my ass. He slides his hands up my sides and cups my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers before he pinches them hard enough to light me up again, his breath falling hot and moist against the side of my neck… and smelling like me. “Look at what we fucking made together.”
I am. I can’t look away. It’s an explosion.
It’s like I painted everything that happened to my emotions today.
“Same, princess,” Dante growls. “I feel the same.”
I’ve honestly got no idea whether I said that shit aloud or if he just already knows me that well. I don’t care, either. Not when I feel him shove his jeans down and rub his cock against my back.
“I need to be inside you,” he says, pulling away for a moment. “Spread your legs.”
I do it, bracing my hands on the wall in front of me on either side of the canvas.
“So soft,” Dante says almost reverently, nudging my wet pussy with the blunt head of his cock as he grips my hip and lines himself up. “Gonna take you hard.”
“Do it,” I pant, greedy for everything he wants to give me.
He groans, then buries himself balls deep with a single, brutal thrust that shoves me forward into the canvas.
I gasp, the wet paint thick and slippery and sensual against my breasts, cold and bracing on my overheated body. The unexpected sensation sends a tingling pleasure through me as he gathers my hair in his fist, wrapping it around and around to anchor himself, and starts fucking me hard. Making me slide against the canvas as he takes me apart like a man possessed.
“Jesus… fuck… princess.” Dante’s breath is choppy and harsh as he pounds into me. “You take me so fucking well. You like this? You like my cock splitting you open?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my fingers scrabbling against the wet canvas and scraping long furrows through the swatches of color there. “I need it.”
“Insatiable,” he mutters, his hips slamming into me like he’s trying to fuck me right through the wall. “You’re perfect.”
Hot, spiraling pleasure tightens in my core, and I squeeze my eyes closed as it starts to build, overcome with sensation. Then Dante’s hand cracks into my ass, and the sharp, bright sting makes my eyes fly back open as I gasp, my whole body clenching around him.
He groans. “Yeah, that’s it.” He spanks me again, and I almost come. “Milk me, princess. You’re so fucking tight. You feel incredible.”
If he spanks me one more time, I know I’m going to come again, but instead he pulls out, so abruptly that I whine, my thighs trembling. Without thinking, I shove my hand between my legs, needing just a little more to tip over into another brain melting orgasm.
“Oh fuck no,” Dante growls, capturing my wrist and tumbling backward with me. “You need something to get you there, it’s gonna be my cock. Ride me.”
He rolls onto his back and manhandles me into position, and when I kneel above him and reach back to guide his shaft to my pussy, his eyes go dark with desire as they rake over my body.
“Gorgeous.” His lips quirk up and he reaches up to trace the smeared paint on my chest. “You’re almost as colorful as I am.”
“Almost,” I pant, arching into his touch as he drags his fingers through the jewel tones already drying on my skin. They’re nothing like his ink, though. He’s got it everywhere, and I still want to explore every tattoo someday. Find out what each intricate piece of art means to him.
But not right now. Right now, I need to be fucked.
“Make me come,” I beg, taking him inside.
Dante grunts with pleasure, his big hands clutching at my waist when my pussy clenches around him. Then he gives me a dirty smile. “I’m just here to paint. You want to come, princess? Make it happen.”
“Asshole,” I lie, calling on muscles earned with years of pole dancing as I brace my hands on his chest and take him up on the challenge, rising up and then lowering myself again. And then again. Using his cock like my own personal sex toy as I start to lose myself in it. Riding him hard, chasing the building pleasure that he’s made me such a glutton for and letting it carry me away.
But then Dante’s hands are on me again, rubbing fresh, wet paint into my skin. Drawing sensual patterns over my stomach, breasts, clit. Reaching around to my ass and kneading it, spanking it again, forcing me to go faster and harder as he paints me like I’m a fucking canvas.
“Beautiful,” he grunts, sexy-as-fuck tremors going through his muscles as his cock swells inside me. “Do it, princess. Let me see you fall apart again. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
I’m close. So close I can’t stand it but so fucking greedy that I never want it to end.
It doesn’t end. He grabs my hips and drives up into me, and pleasure explodes through me in an unstoppable wave that feels like it will never end.
“That’s it. Fuck. It’s always so… fucking… good with you.”
Hearing it sends another wave crashing through me, and he rolls me onto my back and drives into me hard, fucking me right through. Smearing the bright colors he painted onto my skin over the both of us. Panting against my throat as his hips finally start to stutter, his rhythm cracking as he gets close.
“Come,” I whisper, my body tightening around him. I scrape my nails down his back and grab his ass. “Give it to me. I want everything.”
Because he’s right. I’m insatiable. Greedy as shit when it comes to him and his cock and the cum I want inside me, filling me up. Greedy for the sizzling connection I feel as his eyes blaze into mine, burning deep, like he doesn’t want it to end, either.
But then it does. I tighten my inner muscles and Dante’s face contorts as he shouts, and he gives me exactly what I asked for. Everything.
And just like he said, it’s so fucking good with him.
Every. Single. Time.