26. Shaw
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SHAW
The elevator doors closed, leaving me alone with Ishi. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly last time.” Guilt had gnawed at me since that night.
She smiled with genuine warmth. “I understand, sir. There’s no need to apologize.” Her tone suggested she understood far more than just my hasty departure.
The doors opened to the familiar hallway. “President Dragon is through the first door on the left tonight. Please enjoy yourself.”
I nodded and exited the elevator. The weight of my credit card felt heavy in my pocket after another payment made with my parents’ money to feed my addiction I couldn’t control.
Standing outside the door, I knocked before entering a Moulin Rouge–themed room.
Gold-accented crimson draperies covered the walls, and an enormous bed stood at the center, dressed in matching linens.
It gave the space a sense of high-class debauchery that would have horrified my parents.
Each visit to Gennaro Corporation peeled away another layer of the person I thought I was.
Dante lounging in drag on a red velvet chaise stopped me in my tracks.
Stiletto heels led up to lacy thigh-highs, past lace panties, and into a corset. His face had softened into beautifully feminine features, framed by cascading blonde hair. A matching lace choker wrapped around his throat to hide his Adam’s apple.
The corset fit him perfectly, the deep black fabric broken by indigo panels that caught the light each time his hips moved.
Purple lace climbed the bustline in delicate embroidery, outlining the perfect curves of ample breasts that filled out the structured shape of the overbust cut.
The steel boning carved his waist into an hourglass silhouette.
The matching black satin panties had a hint of sheen, edged in the same violet that ran through the corset like a secret only the daring got to keep.
They were cut high, framing the sharp angles of his thighs and the soft curve of his ass.
The distinct outline of his cock pressed against the delicate material, a reminder of the man beneath the feminine illusion.
Sheer black thigh-highs clung to him tightly, the lace band sitting snug against his upper thighs, trimmed in violet to echo the corset’s embroidery. They made his long legs look endless.
Dante rose from the chaise. Each step toward me was pure seduction. His hips swayed, commanding my complete attention. He towered over me in heels, forcing me to lift my head back.
Up close, his transformation was even more disorienting. His blue eyes were framed by long lashes and smoky shadow. His painted red lips begged to be kissed.
“Welcome,” he greeted me in a sultry contralto. His crimson lips curved into a smile.
Words failed me as my eyes fixed on the swell of his buxom breasts. My hands moved instinctively, settling on his narrow hips before sliding up the dramatic hourglass silhouette. I traced the severe inward dip of his waist, which seemed cinched impossibly small.
I followed the curve upward to the heavy breasts rising from the top edge. My palms itched to cup their fullness. I hesitated, unworthy to touch him further without permission.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered. I wanted to kiss him, but he stood too tall in his heels.
For the first time, I understood men like Jace who became obsessed with feminine curves and breasts.
But my racing pulse came from knowing who existed beneath the glorious artifice.
The man I’d always desired had transformed into a vision that awakened a lust so powerful it threatened to consume me.
I mentally thanked whatever impulse had made me book two hours instead of one. The extra time served as my penance for running away before.
Dante guided me to sit beside him on the chaise, interlacing our fingers. “Feeling guilty?”
“A little.” I glanced downward at his glittering purple nails.
All the carefully rehearsed apologies I’d practiced on the subway dissolved. Words were irrelevant now.
He straddled my lap. The weight of him both familiar and strange in his feminine guise. The hard press of his erection against my stomach through the thin satin clashed with the artificial curves under my hands.
I leaned forward, offering my mouth as both apology and surrender.
His painted lips met mine with teasing tenderness.
The lightest suction on my lower lip made me chase his mouth when he drew back.
A delicate flick of his tongue invited rather than invaded and tasted of sweet vanilla.
His lipstick didn’t smudge, allowing me to kiss him deeply without destroying his perfect presentation.
His fingers threaded through my hair. The sharp points of his long nails scraped against my scalp, making my entire body tense with unexpected pleasure. His technique remained delicately feminine, but the hunger behind it was pure Dante.
He tilted my head back to expose my throat. His mouth traced a path from my jaw to my collarbone.
Unable to resist, I finally cupped his artificial breasts. They carried a natural weight that settled heavily against my palms. When my thumbs brushed over the peaks, Dante released a breathy moan.
The sound shot straight to my cock. His reaction seemed genuine, as if he felt my touch through the breastplate. I squeezed again, testing their resistance. Despite never touching a woman’s breasts before, the action felt natural as I kneaded the generous swell of Dante’s artificial breasts.
Abandoning his breasts, my hands traveled up his spread thighs, feeling the muscle beneath the delicate lace stockings. I followed the path to his hips, then around to grab his ass. The thong barely qualified as clothing, leaving him exposed to my greedy touch.
He stood suddenly, breaking the contact.
The head of his dick peeked obscenely from the top of his lingerie.
When he turned, gifting me with a view of his perfectly rounded ass, he looked over his shoulder with an amused expression.
“Are you planning on staring all night, or do you want to continue?”
The question brought me to my feet. I pressed against him from behind, one arm circling his waist while my other hand cupped his erection through the thong. “Please,” I begged. “I need you.”
Our fingers interlocked as he led me to the enormous bed that dominated the room. The red-and-gold bedspread matched the opulent room.
Dante grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me closer with a strength that reminded me of what lay beneath the feminine facade.
He undid my belt and tugged it free with a satisfying snap of the leather.
Within seconds, my clothes were gone. I stood completely naked before him, while he remained clothed in silk and lace.
He kicked off his heels and unclipped his stockings from their garters. The thong slid down his legs, exposing his thick erection. He left the corset, thigh-highs, and wig in place.
“On your back,” he commanded.
I hesitated, pride making me balk at the order. But Dante didn’t wait. He stepped into my space and lifted me in a brutal display of physical strength, depositing me on the bed. I grumbled at the manhandling, but willingly scooted toward the center of the mattress.
Dante crawled over me on all fours, caging me in place. He sat back on his heels to survey me. He licked his red lips, leaving them glistening and wet. He placed his hands on either side of my head, leaning close enough that his fake breasts pressed against my chest. “Now, where were we?”
He kissed his way down my body until he reached the dark purple bruise he’d left on my hip during our last encounter.
He pressed his lips to the mark reverently before his teeth grazed the mark.
I tensed as his fingers slipped lower, circling my entrance with a teasing pressure until he withdrew his hand.
I experienced both relief and profound disappointment.
Reaching beneath a pillow, he pulled out a condom, tearing the wrapper open.
Panic seized me. I wasn’t entirely ready to surrender that final vulnerability. The terror must have shown on my face, because his lips curved into a knowing smile.
He rolled the condom over my aching erection before straddling me again.
He steadied himself with a firm grip, his sharp nails brushing against my shaft before he lowered himself down one slow inch at a time.
His tight heat enveloped me. As I sank into his body, he clenched around me.
I gasped and thrust upward instinctively, chasing more of that exquisite pressure.
He moved at a grinding pace, building friction and leaving me desperate for more as his artificial breasts bounced with each movement.
I trailed my touch up his powerful thighs, feeling the muscles flex and quiver as he rode me. Tracing the lace tops of his stockings, I reached between us to wrap my hand around his hard cock. I stroked him in sync with his punishing pace.
He eventually pushed my hand away to take control of his own satisfaction, chasing his release with total focus.
An orgasm approached from somewhere deeper than physical pleasure, tearing through the foundations of my sexual identity.
Every muscle in my body seized in a violent contraction.
Pressure behind my balls crawled up my spine and exploded at the base of my skull.
I dug my fingernails into his thighs, leaving half-moon marks as my hips pumped upward in harsh, desperate thrusts.
The first pulse hit hard as each spurt of cum confessed I wanted the illusion as much as the man beneath it. I cried out as Dante’s inner muscles clenched around me, milking the finish out of me with merciless force.
As the final tremor faded, I fell back against the mattress. Dante continued to ride me, claiming my body with a ruthless determination that left me both conquered and craving more.