Chapter 32 #2
“Then you know how it feels,” he growled, turning me and pushing me back until my spine hit the wall. His body pressed into mine, hard and unyielding. “Because you make me lose my god damn mind.”
His mouth trailed down my throat, biting once before sucking the sting away, and I gasped, half anger, half desperate need. My nails scraped his shoulders, pulling him closer, as though if he stepped away, I’d break apart completely.
“Dante—” I started, but the sound came out wrecked, nothing like the protest I’d meant.
He smirked against my skin. “Say my name again.”
His smirk made it worse.
I yanked his jacket down his arms, fumbling with the fabric, and he threw it off like it offended him. His shirt went next, and my hands were everywhere — shoulders, chest, the smooth line of muscle that felt too good under my palms.
“You’re impossible,” I gasped, shoving him back a step so I could pull my T-shirt off.
He caught my wrist, spun me, and the world tilted as my thighs hit the edge of the bed. I didn’t get a chance to protest, and Dante was between my thighs before I could breathe again.
“Impossible?” His mouth curved as he kissed me, hot and punishing. His hands slid up my body, over the swell of my breasts, moving around to my back and unclasping the bra effortlessly, dropping it somewhere behind him. “Sweetheart, you’re the one begging me to ruin you.”
His teeth caught my nipple, and his tongue flicked against the raised peak. “Oh God . . .”
“Dante,” he murmured. “Say only my name,” he mumbled, moving to the other breast. His hands were at the button of my jeans, and I lifted my hips to let him take them off.
“I’m not—” My protest broke into a whimper as his thumb pressed against the lace of my panties, teasing where I was already wet.
“Not what?” he murmured darkly. “Not ready? Not aching for it? Don’t lie to me, Sav.”
I bit his shoulder just to stop the sound clawing up my throat. He cursed, low and filthy, then ripped my underwear down in one rough motion.
I shoved at his belt, pulling it loose. He didn’t help — just watched me, eyes burning with something that was half hunger, half warning. Finally, the buckle gave, his jeans shoved low, and when I wrapped my hand around him, his control cracked.
“Fuck—” He grabbed my hands, halting my movements. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Then burn me,” I whispered, and I opened my mouth and sucked the head of his cock, licking off the drop of precum, and groaning with appreciation.
I heard his quick intake of breath as I licked around the head and then took him deeper, my head bobbing as I worked him with my mouth, my hand curling around the bottom of him, squeezing the base slightly before I started to move it in time with the rhythm of my mouth.
Dante’s hands were in my hair, gripping gently, threading his fingers through, moving his hips closer to me, and I sank farther down his length, choking as he hit the back of my throat, but not stopping.
“Oh, fuck—” he groaned above me.
I kept working him, loving his fingers lacing through my hair, loving the control I had over him. I looked up at him and almost faltered when I saw the dark lust in his eyes as he watched me.
Dante pulled back, knocking my hands away. He was on his knees in front of me, pushing me back, and spreading my legs wide. I felt a breath of air, and then his mouth was there. His tongue flicked over my clit, and I didn’t know which one of us groaned the loudest.
His hands pushed my legs farther apart, his tongue was everywhere, licking through my wetness, hot and greedy.
My back arched when he pushed a finger inside me, and began thrusting.
His mouth was on my clit again, sucking, flicking, and another finger pushed in, and I was clawing at the blankets, feeling my climax uncurling from where he was building it.
Dante knew exactly what he was doing as he fucked me with his mouth, his fingers were thrusting quickly, and I knew he wanted me to come.
My hands were in his hair, pulling him close to me as his tongue flicked against my clit, and then I was screaming out his name, my hips thrusting against his mouth, as my body trembled with nothing but sensation.
He pulled away, and I heard the rip of foil.
I was pulled gently up the bed, my hands already reaching for him.
He was between my legs, and he surged forward, thrusting into me with a force that knocked the air out of my lungs.
I gasped, nails raking down his back, the sting of it grounding me even as my body arched into his.
“God, Sav,” he groaned against my ear, hips snapping into me again and again, each movement sharp and unrelenting. “You feel too fucking good.”
I clung to him, legs locking around his waist, every thrust breaking me apart and pulling me closer all at once. Desire blurred into need, into raw hunger that had me crying his name, head thrown back as pleasure coiled hot and fast inside me once more.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice rough and ragged.
“Dante—” I gasped, the sound half sob, half moan.
When he kissed me this time, it was just as desperate as earlier, like he needed this just as badly as I did.
He drove into me harder, the bed groaning under the force. My hands scrambled for purchase, gripping his shoulders, his hair, anything to anchor me as the heat built to something unbearable.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it,” he ground out, jaw tight, sweat slicking at his temples. He bent low, teeth grazing my throat, biting hard enough to bruise. My body jolted, the sharp edge tipping me closer.
The sound of him — rough groans, curses spilling into my skin — pulled me under. Every thrust was a challenge, every drag inside me a demand I couldn’t refuse.
“God, you’re mine,” he rasped. “This ass is mine.” His hand slid up my body, curling around the nape of my neck, pulling me flush against him as if daring me to deny it. “Come for me, Sav.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes.”
My release tore through me, shattering and hot. The cry came out of nowhere, loud enough that I didn’t care who heard it. I clenched around him, and his rhythm faltered.
“Fuck, Sav—” His voice cracked, and then he lost it, thrusting deep, harder, burying himself inside me as he came with a groan that vibrated against my neck.
For a long moment, all I could hear was the ragged sound of our breathing, the faint creak of the bed beneath us as the springs settled. My body trembled with aftershocks, his weight heavy and grounding against mine.
He stayed there, forehead pressed to my temple, his breath warm and uneven.
For once, Dante Spence — the golden boy, the quarterback, the smug bastard who always had a grin — was silent.