Chapter 27 Grace #2
"I'm going to feed you every inch, little bird," he says. "Just when you think you can't take any more, I'll give you some more. And you're going to like it."
I moan his name like a prayer.
He fists my hair and pulls my head back, making me look at him even as I start to lose focus.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with desire.
And then he kisses me.
It's the same way he kissed me at the altar, but it’s so much more. The finger he pushed inside me heightens everything. His thumb is rubbing slow circles around my clit as he touches my tongue with his, making me taste him.
Smoke and sandalwood fill my lungs. I want to drown in it. I want it under my skin.
"More," I beg. "Please."
"I have a horny little wife," he growls, adding another finger inside me and making me gasp. "I wonder if you'll be asking for more once I'm inside you."
His mouth is feverish against mine. His body pushes me harder against the wall as he pumps his fingers in and out of me.
"You taste so innocent, piccola," he says. "Like flowers that have just bloomed. I’m addicted to the taste of you.”
I feel so boneless in his arms. I’m so close to the edge now.
And he must feel it, because he pulls out of me.
“Not yet, piccola,” he says. “You don’t come until I tell you to.”
“Please,” I gasp, bucking against his hand.
"I just told you, little bird," he says. "You're not allowed to come until I have my cock buried inside you. Now, take your dress off. I need to see you. All of you."
I suck in a breath.
We’re surrounded by so much light. It makes me hesitate.
But there’s a challenge in his eyes, daring me to bare myself before him.
I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a gorgeous white dress with long velvet ribbon straps trailing down my arms. Taking it off will mean that he'll be able to see every inch of me.
I’ve never felt beautiful in my skin before, but maybe it's time to change that.
I lower the tiny zipper near my ribs and slip out of the straps. The dress pools at my feet. I'm standing before him in lacy lingerie now, all of my curves on display just for his eyes.
"I used to think luck was never on my side," he says. "But looking at you now, I know that I'm the luckiest man in the world."
He takes out all of the pins in my hair until it falls down my back in loose waves. He cups my cheeks in his hands and tilts my face up toward his. I find it hard to meet his gaze, but he's patient.
When our eyes lock once again, my breath remains suspended in my lungs.
"You're beautiful, Grace," he says. "So stunning that I forget how to breathe around you sometimes."
He presses his lips down over mine. He’s gentler with it now, making me feel comfortable. When I moan into his mouth, he tugs me closer.
I surrender.
To him. To this moment. To us.
His mouth is firm and commanding against mine. His stubble is rough against my cheeks. And the friction between us is the most delicious thing I’ve ever experienced.
I lean into it.
His cock is rock hard against my belly now, making promises of everything to come.
He pulls away for a moment. His eyes remain locked on mine as he shrugs off his suit jacket and spreads it across the carpet. Then he gently lowers me onto it.
He's looking at me like I'm someone he's afraid to lose.
I suck in a breath when he settles himself between my spread thighs. His swollen length drags against my pussy. It's so big that I wonder once again how he's going to make it fit inside me.
He reaches between us and rips my panties.
My eyes widen.
"Dante, that was La Perla," I say.
"I don't care what brand it is," he says. "You've turned me into an impatient man, bella. I don't want anything coming between me and this sweet pussy ever again.”
His hand cups my pussy so possessively that I see stars. His calloused fingers move up and down my slit.
"I don't want you wearing panties anymore," he says. "I need to know that this pussy is ready for the taking anytime I please. Is that understood?"
I blink up at him. "Yes."
He replaces his hand with his cock. I'm soaking wet and ready for him, but he doesn't push inside me yet. Instead, he rocks on top of me, rubbing his shaft up and down my slit.
Every time he brushes against my clit, he ignites a bundle of nerves that makes me want to implode.
"My pretty wife," he praises. "My dirty slut. You look so fucking good underneath me.”
He threads his fingers into my hair. His mouth comes crashing down over mine. He kisses me so hard that it makes my toes curl. His hand cups one of my breasts.
"You're built like a goddess, Grace," he says. “You drive me to the brink of insanity every time I look at you.”
I feel wanted under him.
I feel seen.
Everything he says and does rewrites the narrative in my head. Every second I spend with him erases my mother's voice from my memory.
His mouth trails kisses down my neck. His hands are strong as they hold my waist.
I stare up at the painting on the ceiling. It's a riot of colors that makes this moment feel all the more magical.
My back arches when his lips close around my nipple.
"Dante," I moan.
"You taste like tart cherries," he says. "It's no wonder I have to drag you to secret spots just to get my fill of you."
He moves to my other nipple, sucking on it until they're both hard peaks for him. He moves down my belly, giving me love bites all the way down to my pussy.
As I stare down at him, I think about how different life used to be.
My mother once put me on a diet of almonds and cucumbers for a month while I was going through puberty. She took it as a personal offense that one of her daughters looked nothing like her. I was starved and ridiculed and taught to hate my body.
But I met a man who celebrates me.
It’s not just about the physical.
He challenges me to love myself for who I am. He's teaching me that love can be unconditional. And all of the imperfections that I thought made me less worthy are some of the very things he loves most about me.
My fingers are tangled in his hair as he saws his tongue up and down my slit. His stubble rubs against the inside of my thighs as he presses his mouth harder against my pussy, drinking his fill.
And when he looks up at me, the sight of him between my thighs almost makes me unravel.
"You're not allowed to come until I let you, piccola," he warns, looking up at me.
I lift my hips, needing more.
Instead of giving me what I need, he slows down. It's the second time he's taking me toward the edge only to deny me pleasure. He licks me leisurely, swirling his tongue over every hole.
I've never felt this exposed before.
Instead of shrinking, I feel my energy expanding to match his.
I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut when he sucks on my clit again. His lips feel so good on my flesh. He's a man who knows what he's doing, and it's turning my brain into mush.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is a red dot.
I turn still.
He picks up on the shift in my energy. He follows my line of sight to the high corner of the hall.
"There's a camera," I whisper.
“It appears so.”
"Do you think someone's watching the feed?"
"If it's a man, I want him dead," Dante growls. "I don't want anyone looking at my wife."
His possessiveness goes straight to my head. My clit starts to throb with need.
"Maybe it's okay for them to just watch," I whisper.
A look of understanding crosses his features.
"I almost forgot," he says. "You like that, don't you? You got so wet the last time you were being watched. You liked that the group of men couldn't take their eyes off your big, beautiful breasts as you came undone for me.”
I hold my breath. I feel like I can come just by listening to him say these filthy things to me.
"Fine," he says, moving back up my body. "I'll let them look. But if anyone ever so much as holds your hand, I'll slice their throat open."
"Would you really?" I ask.
"There isn't much I wouldn't do for you, little bird," he says. “You should know by now that you're all fucking mine."
"Yours," I say, my lips parting as he finally, finally pushes his cock against my entrance.
“Only my cock gets to have this tight little pussy wrapped around it,” he says. "I'm going to be your first and last fuck."
He pushes inside me, feeding me another inch of him. The veins in his neck and forehead are swollen against his skin, straining from the effort it's taking him not to slam home inside me.
"More," I whisper.
"You're a fucking miracle," he says. "My fucking miracle."
"Daddy, please," I whimper.
There's a moment of silence between us.
"I didn't mean to call you that," I rush to add.
"Oh yes, you did," he says. “It’s not your first time calling me that, either. It’s your darkest desire.”
I look into his eyes.
And I remember.
When we first met, I was under the influence of an aphrodisiac. I can now recall what I said to him when we were in his car. I showed him my tits and said, “You can touch them if you want, Daddy.”
I remember it all now.
“It’s your darkest desire,” he says. “You want a daddy who can take care of your every need. And I’m going to be that man for you.”
Heat blooms through all of me. My cheeks feel like they're on fire.
"Is that understood?" he asks.
I nod.
"I want to hear you say it, piccola," he says.
"Yes, Daddy," I whisper, wondering why the word feels so right on my tongue.
"Good girl," he says. "You know exactly how to make a man lose his mind, don't you? I used to be a man with morals, but look at what you turned me into. I'm about to take your virginity on the floor like an animal."
His strong arms are braced on either side of my head as he pushes deeper inside me. There's visible strain on his face as he hits the barrier of my virginity.
I fall into the forbidden role.
"I don't mind," I whisper. "You work so hard. You deserve to feel good, Daddy."
He mutters a string of curses, his accent so thick that I can't decipher half of the words.