Chapter 17 Ruby
RUBY
I had the best evening. Lily wants to commission art from me for a special edition, which is amazing. But being in bed with Dante is even more exciting. Last night I was too overwhelmed to take it in when he held me, but tonight, the anticipation is unbearable.
As I lie in the dark, my mind replays him coming out of the shower and dropping the towel before putting on his shorts. I’m hot and achy.
My clit feels three times as big as usual.
He said I should remain here for my own safety from his enemies, but there’s a far more dangerous problem that I should have anticipated.
I’m in danger of losing my heart. If I haven’t already.
“Are your feet cold, Ruby?”
Not really, but I’d lie in an ice-bath for two days if it meant Dante touched me to warm me up. My lips are really cold! My clit is so cold. Freezing! The inside of my pussy is sub-zero.
“Yes. A bit,” honesty compels me to add.
“Come here.” He reaches over the gap and pulls me into his arms, like he did last night, and ohhhhh…
The way I’m lying against him I can feel more of him. His solid torso. His thighs.
I consider saying something. Maybe that I would happily lose my virginity to him.
His arm around me isn’t really sexual. Probably he isn’t thinking about sex at all. Besides, how many times do I want to be rejected by this man? Surely once is enough.
Instead, I snuggle into his side, and try not to be an inappropriate creeper. But I do take a long breath—as subtly as I can—and inhale his scent. He smells like trees, earth, and sunshine. Delicious.
When I’m not his wife anymore, I might have to break into his house in the middle of the night and slide into bed with him while he’s asleep, just to get my fix of the feel and smell of him.
I wonder how he’d taste?
Not just his mouth, which was rich with the wine he’d been drinking that evening at the wedding.
His cock.
That lights me up. I haven’t seen him naked from the front, only behind as he’s momentarily bare.
My imagination for what his cock could look like is a bit hazy. I have no experience to draw on, after all. But I bet it’s proportional to him—that is to say, huge—and as perfectly handsome too.
Would he let me suck him, if I could get the courage to ask? I wonder how he’d feel in my mouth? Hot, perhaps a bit salty with sweat, or fresh and sweet from his shower.
My mouth is watering. Maybe I’d do it right, and he’d groan with how good I made him feel.
If he’d call me his good girl again, I might expire from happiness.
“Do you know what you’re doing, tesorina?” Dante asks slowly, in a low voice.
And I realise that I’m writhing against him like a cat in heat. I’m being an absolute animal, inappropriate in every way.
“Sorry, I’m really…” I try to wriggle away, frantic, embarrassed, my cheeks burning. But Dante’s grip on me tightens. “Sorry…” I finish uncertainly, as he draws me closer, and closer still, until the top of my thigh which had been partly over his leg, touches a hot, hard bar.
I gasp in shock. Sheer, stars-behind-my-eyes thrill goes through me.
He’s aroused. He’s got a hard-on. For me? Is Dante attracted to me? His accidental wife?
“It’s okay,” he says with strain and reassurance in his tone. “I meant what I said about your virginity.”
“Oh.” No. No, no, no. I am an idiot.
“I won’t take that from you, but let me give to you, tesorina.”
“Mmmn!” I make a wordless squeak of agreement.
“Are you needy? Are you wet and desperate for friction on your little clit?”
I whimper. Actually whimper like the out-of-her-head turned-on creature I am.
I’m rubbing against him again, so aware of that solid bar of his erection. I really, really want to take it in my hand. Lower my mouth to it and have him comb his fingers into my hair and hold me still as he works himself on me.
I’m a mess of desires, because I’m also basically humping his leg now.
The cotton of my pyjamas and the slippery material of his shorts not enough, even with his muscled thigh giving me traction.
Dante brings his hand up to my head, and strokes my hair in a gesture that is probably meant to be soothing, but actually makes me moan at how nice it feels.
“Tell me you want me to make you come, and I will, Ruby,” he rasps. “Say the words, and trust me, and I’ll make you explode. I promise.”
“Yes.” That is definitely what I want. Literally anything and everything Dante offers, I want it.
“Use your words. No misunderstandings,” he replies firmly.
That authoritative tone does something magical to me.
Dominant. Knowing. He’s in control of this, even as he makes me own my desires and confess them to him in the dark and security of his bed.
“I want you to make me come,” I whisper. “I trust you.”
“Good girl.” He kisses the top of my head gently, then with ruthless efficiency, he’s tipped me onto my back.
His knees are between mine, keeping my legs apart and that detail is unexpectedly arousing, causing a surge of heat.
He slides my pyjama bottoms off in one seamless motion, and pushes the vest up so my breasts are exposed, rubbing his thumb carelessly over my nipple and making me whine with need.
Then he dives down so his big shoulders are between my thighs.
He’s underneath the covers, and I am too, still snug and warm.
What is he doing?!
Then he presses his face to my inner thigh and any capacity I might have had for reasoned thought disappears.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he growls, and his kiss becomes a lick, which becomes a suck that makes me jump.
He rumbles a laugh, and rubs his stubbled jaw against the sensitive skin of my thigh, and I gasp.
The pin-prick of pain enhances the pleasure when he presses his lips to me.
Like a bit of salt in a sweet recipe, or the silver in his black hair, the contrast makes it better.
The darkness makes this secret, almost as though we’re hiding from reality, or ourselves. There’s no denying our passion, even if this is an accidental, temporary marriage.
Did I say I was cold? I am not cold. I am burning up with desire for this man.
He kisses me like there’s a time limit and he has to get as much in as he can before an imaginary bell rings.
Then he hooks his arms under my legs to hold me at a more advantageous angle for him, and purrs with anticipation.
He licks me. Greedily. One long lick all the way up my seam, and I buck with the shock of bliss it spikes into me.
“Fucking delicious.” He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks.
I practically levitate off the bed. It’s brutal in how effective it is. I’m instantly on the edge of orgasm, from being turned-on and having little shocks, to choking and on the brink.
“So wet, such a good girl for me,” he says, before pressing his lips to my core again, tugging at my clit with his mouth as though he could tear the climax from me.
And perhaps he can, because he doesn’t let up, and I don’t know how long he does it, because time and space have ceased to have any meaning for me, but his insistent mouth crashes me over the edge.
I scream. I clutch the sheets. The pleasure sweeps down my body over and over, each pulse wrecking me more.
Dante rumbles approval, and eases off, shifting down to thrust his tongue into my entrance, and that’s a softer, sweeter bliss after coming so hard and fast.
Eventually the orgasm recedes, and I try to gather myself. “I…”
“Shhh.” Dante nips at me, and I yelp. He just laughs, and starts kissing gently around my clit.
“What are you—”
“Trust me,” he cuts me off. His fingers dig into my thighs when I try to writhe away because it’s too sensitive. But somehow, he knows better than I do, and in small increments, pleasure builds again with licks around, then over my clit.
I’m helpless to do anything but accept it.
My husband turns out to be very insistent, and this time when I come it’s a deeper wash of ecstasy. I’m out of mind, my hands holding Dante’s head, gripping his soft black hair, probably a bit too tightly. But I need him to anchor me as the orgasm rolls over me in white heat.
I’m completely spent. Done. I lie there, eyes closed for a while, unable to move.
And Dante seems to realise, because he doesn’t insist on more.
He leaves one hard kiss on my mons, and he moves. My eyes fly open in time to see him raise himself onto his hands over me. It’s dark, and his outline is all that’s visible. But I can feel the heat of his body, and he’s huge. A big, dark shadowy presence.
His cock brushes my thigh and I gasp. He’s silky, hard, and as smooth as polished wood.
It’s a hot side of skin against skin that sends another pulse of need into me, but then the contact is broken. My eyes are adjusting to the lack of light, and I can just about distinguish Dante’s features.
I stare up into his face, all stark lines and deep shadows.
“My filthy, needy little wife,” he says, and it sounds like a compliment.
He shifts his weight and moves his arm, and for a second I think he’s going to leave, and I get halfway through his name. “Dan…”
And then I realise what he’s doing.
He moves back and forward almost imperceptibly, holding himself over me on one hand.
A glance down between us confirms what I thought, and excitement blasts through me.
He’s pushed his shorts off and is stroking himself. Hard and fast, his gaze wandering down my body to my breasts, then returning to my face as he jerks off.
I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I have never felt so seen and desired in my life. I’m trembling with it.
“So pretty, and you’re so responsive for me, aren’t you, my little wife?”
I nod, even though I guess it’s more a statement than an actual question.
“See what you did to me? What your taste, and the way you came for me, did to me? You’ve made me painfully hard, Ruby. Feral.”
My mouth is dry and I’m in awe. Is this really happening to me? To me?
“Ohh.” He moans and shudders, and then rasps out my name. “Ruby.”
The first stripe of his come on my belly is hot and unexpected. A shock.
He paints me with it in reams as he shakes with the intensity of his climax, his shadowed eyes boring into me.
Heat flares between my legs again, as I’m splashed with the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Coated.
I did this. The thought echoes in my head.
He touched himself, but he was turned on by me. And him coming all over me as he groans my name feels as possessive a claim as I can imagine, and it’s so good.
I want to be his.
He’s still shuddering through the end of his orgasm when I dare to reach up and touch his face. I half expect him to flinch away, but he doesn’t. My husband turns to softly kiss my palm, then dips his head and kisses my lips.
I taste myself on him. Salty and sweet and slick with his saliva, my cream all over his lips and cheeks.
It’s lewd and dirty and I’m absolutely here for it.
Then wordlessly. Dante pushes himself up, leaving the cool air to hit my body, more chilled where I’m covered with sweat, and insulated by his ejaculate, that’s still warm.
He finds his shorts, and uses them to wipe up the sticky mess all over my belly, lingering where it reached my breasts.
I don’t object when he reaches between my legs to clean me there too, even though I swear for a second he’s adding to the problem by pushing the fabric that’s wet with his come over my sopping pussy.
Then he realises his mistake, and wipes away the evidence of our… I’m not sure what that was.
I close my eyes. What have I done? The mattress moves under me as he shifts, then he’s returned, tugging my pyjamas back into place and smoothing them down.
You’d never know anything had happened.
I’m exhausted. The satisfaction of coming has combined with the buzz of Dante covering me, and my brain has overloaded.
He pulls me to him, my back to his chest, and exhales a deep, contented sigh. I try to hold out, but tucked into him, it’s impossible not to feel warm and secure. Wanted. His arm rests over my hip, and his breath tickles the top of my head.
And I think it must be the orgasms, because immediately, I’m slipping into sleep.
There’s one intrusive thought before I’m gone. How am I going to survive without this once we’re not married anymore?