Chapter 12 - Alisa
His lips moved against mine like he was starving for the taste of me, and god, I was just as famished.
The kiss sent electricity racing through my body, and it settled permanently between my legs. I arched up against him, my breasts against his chest, my body remembering his like yesterday.
There was nothing awkward about being with him, nothing less-than. Together, we still felt like fire devouring all in our path.
Dante’s tongue was everywhere. Against mine, tracing the ridges of my upper mouth, crushing against my inner cheeks. I met him stroke for stroke, and my entire body relaxed as the kiss stayed hot, but turned lazy. Comfortable. Perfect.
I dug my nails into his shoulders and marveled at how strong he was. I forgot all about oxygen and breathed just him, in disbelief that the man who had haunted my dreams for years was hovering right above me.
I soaked in the moment for a permanent place in my mind.
His hand slid down my side, tracing a tingling path along my ribs before reaching the hem of my tank top. He broke the kiss just long enough to look into my eyes. I lifted my shoulders off the mat, giving him access.
That was all he needed. He gave me a lazy, sexy little half-grin and peeled my sweat-dampened tank top up and over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him.
“God, Alisa,” he breathed, his eyes darkening as they traveled down to my sports bra. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His words melted through me like hot honey.
Dante lowered his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. I swallowed hard, feeling my skin tickle against his mouth. He worked his way down, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts above my sports bra.
Instead of removing it as I so wanted him to, he cupped my breasts through the fabric, his thumbs circling my nipples until they pebbled and I writhed. I felt my pussy clench and moaned, my head falling back against the mat.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he confessed. “About touching you again. Hearing those sounds you make.”
He then bit into my bra, over my nipple. I cried out, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him there.
“Take it off,” I begged.
Dante leaned back slightly and smiled before peeling my bra up and over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up. The hunger in his eyes as he looked down at me?
God. It made me feel powerful. Invincible.
“Stunning,” he whispered, cupping my bare breasts, his eyes so fixed and hungry that I felt myself blush.
His thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I bit my lip to hold back a whimper. But when his mouth closed over one peaked bud, sucking hard while his tongue flicked against the tip, I couldn’t hold back the animalistic moan that tore from my throat.
“Dante,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “Oh god.”
He hummed against my breast and his free hand kneaded my other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers in song with the strokes of his tongue.
My hips moved without thought, seeking more against him. I could feel him hard against my thigh, straining through his shorts.
God, he wanted me just as bad, and I felt myself soak.
He then slid his hands down my stomach and traced along the skin above my waistband.
I started to reach for my tights, but he clicked his tongue. My eyes met his, and he shook his head, as though to tell me he was still the one in charge of this class.
I froze. Put my hands back down by my side and felt my heart thunder like the galloping of a million horses as I lurched my hips up in the air.
He began to slide my leggings and panties down my hips. Slowly, so slowly, revealing inch after inch of skin.
The AC blasted right onto me, and I trembled to hold my legs open for him. Once he had my clothes off, he didn’t move.
I just lay there, below him, tracing the map his eyes built as he took his fill of me.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes traveling up from my feet, over my legs, to the apex of my thighs. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
I watched as he settled between my legs and used his hands to push my thighs further apart.
His fingers traced up my inner thigh with featherlight touches that made me tremble. When he finally reached the center of me, his finger slid across my slit with agonizing slowness.
“So wet already,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Is this all for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I admitted in a desperate, breathy voice.
The truth of those words hit me hard. It had always been only him, even when I tried to forget.
His eyes never left mine as he slowly slid one finger inside me. God, he felt like the needle in the haystack I’d always been searching for, and I gasped and clenched around his finger, chasing the feeling. It had been so long since anyone had touched me there—since I’d wanted anyone to.
“God, you’re still so tight,” he groaned, working his finger deeper.
He began to move, curling his finger inside me in a motion that made my toes curl. His thumb found my clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make my hips buck off the mat.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, watching my face as he added a second finger. “Show me what feels good.”
The stretch of two fingers made me moan, my head thrashing from side to side as he set up a rhythm that had me riding his hand shamelessly. Each thrust of his fingers hit a spot inside me that sent sparks shooting up my spine.
“Dante,” I gasped, my hands fisting in the mat beneath me. “Oh god, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he groaned. “Not until you come for me.”
He lowered his head then, still watching me as his mouth hovered just above where his fingers worked me. The first touch of his tongue against my clit made me cry out, my back arching off the mat.
“Oh fuck!”
He then set to work like his life depended on it.
He circled his tongue, round and round, on my clit while his fingers traced the same route against my walls inside.
And just like that, the pressure kept building, and he tightened the circles made by his fingers until every effort was on that one spot that was pushing me rapidly toward the edge.
My entire world had narrowed to his mouth, his fingers, and the building pressure at my core. My thighs began to tremble as he increased his pace, his fingers curling to hit that damning spot with every jab.
“I’m close,” I warned, my voice high and desperate. “Dante, I’m so close.”
“Let go for me, baby,” he urged, looking up at me from between my legs. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
His tongue flattened against my clit, applying pressure once more, just as his fingers curled inside me again, and he began to move just the tip, slapping it against the spot over and over and over again, so damn fast that I shattered.
The pleasure swam outward, crashing through every nerve ending.
My body clenched around his fingers, my back arching, a long, moaning cry escaping my lips.
Stars burst behind my closed eyelids as wave after wave of the orgasm washed over me. My entire body pulsed with it, from my fingertips to my toes, every muscle tensing and releasing with the contractions deep inside me.
But Dante didn’t stop. He eased the pressure of his tongue but kept it moving, drawing out my pleasure until I was gasping for breath, my hands now in his hair, not sure if I was pushing him away or pulling him closer.
“Too much,” I panted, oversensitive. “I can’t—”
He slowed his movements, his fingers still inside me but no longer thrusting. Instead, he began a gentle massage against my front wall, finding that spongy spot that made my eyes roll back in my head.
“Oh god,” I whimpered, as a different kind of pressure began to build. “What are you doing to me?”
He didn’t answer, just continued that maddening massage while pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs. Then he was moving up my body, his fingers still working that magic inside me, until his mouth found mine.
I tasted myself on his lips as he kissed me deeply, swallowing my moans as his fingers continued doing what they did best. The slow laziness of his movements, against that perfect spot, pushed me toward a second peak faster than I thought possible.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my lips. “You’re getting firmer. You’re going to come again for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasped, no longer caring how desperate I sounded. “Please, yes.”
My hands scrabbled at his shoulders, then down his chest, until I reached the waistband of his shorts. I needed to feel him, to touch him, to know he was just as affected as I was.
“Help me,” I begged, tugging at the elastic. “Please.”
With his free hand, he helped me push his shorts and boxers down his hips, freeing his erection.
My hand wrapped around him immediately, feeling the hot, velvet skin stretched over steel.
He was so hard, the tip already dripping, and knowing I did that to him made my inner muscles clench around his fingers.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he hissed, his hips jerking into my grip. “Just like that, baby.”
I stroked him in time with the movement of his fingers inside me, my thumb circling his head the way I remembered he liked. His breathing grew ragged, his rhythm faltering slightly as pleasure overtook him.
“Does this feel good?” I asked, squeezing him gently.
“God, yes,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. “So fucking good.”
We moved together like that, his fingers inside me, my hand around him, our breaths mingling as we pushed each other toward the edge. When his thumb found my clit again, pressing circles in time with the curling of his fingers, I felt that familiar tightening at my core.
“I’m going to come again,” I warned, my voice breaking on a moan.
“Me too,” he admitted, his hips thrusting into my hand. “Fuck, Alisa, don’t stop.”