I nod my understanding, my acceptance, and he takes himself in hand and rubs the tip of his cock through my wetness. Teasing me, preparing me and himself. I can’t wait to taste him, to take him in my mouth and pleasure him like he did me, but right now the mating urge is too strong to ignore.

When I arch my hips again, in invitation and demand, he seats himself at my entrance and begins to push inside. My eyes roll back in my head at the insane pleasure of him, his thickness stretching me almost to the edge of pain.

I look back down because I need to see him, to watch him watching me. He’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever beheld, ever felt. “God, you’re beautiful.”

He goes still, his face full of surprised pleasure, then smiles that toe-curling smile of his. He’s still filling me, one slow inch at a time. When he’s finally buried inside me, he lowers his head and kisses me deeply.

My arms go around him, then my legs. We kiss like it’s world war three, our tongues dueling frantically as my body adjusts. When I start to rock against him, he breaks off and buries his face in my hair.

“Could fuck you forever, babe. Your pussy feels like heaven.”

I put my hands to either side of his face and lift his head until I can see him. “I don’t even have words for how good you feel. Fuck me, Dante.”

He’s propped on his elbows to keep his weight off me. One hand curves under my shoulder and around, anchoring me to him. The other, he curls over my mouth.

His hand isn’t actually touching me — I can still talk. But having it there is a reminder, a demand for silence, a sign of dominance.

And it’s hot as hell.

Staring into my eyes, he draws back, slowly, then plunges in to the hilt. “Oh, fuck.” Again, and again, and by the fifth stroke I’m frantic, needing more.

My nails dig into his back, and he gives me more, still fucking me with deep, hard strokes, but going a little faster. The power of his body is incredible. I feel so owned, so claimed, so taken.

It’s the best thing ever.

Before long, though, I’m hungry for still more. But this time, when my nails dig in, his eyes tell me no and he keeps the pace where it is. Is he denying me to make it last, to keep things quiet, to protect me from his strength, or just to be in charge?

I’m not sure. Regardless of why, my body knows what it wants and doesn’t care about his reasons. My nails score down his back, all the way to his ass.

His eyes go hot, and we start a silent battle for control, Dante trying to keep it and me trying to make him lose it. Gazes locked, we demand and deny without speaking a word while our bodies rut, primitive and insatiable.

Finally, instinct takes over and he speeds up, the bed shaking with his thrusts, his wide cock spearing into me, rubbing against all my sensitive ridges, the sounds and scents of our joining filling the room.

I can feel my climax growing, swelling, ready to burst over me, and I start to whimper softly. Dante goes faster, driving me higher, and then — just when I’m teetering on the edge — he pulls out.

My frantic “No!” is blocked by his hand coming down over my mouth. The next instant he flips me over and drags me up so I’m on my knees, ass in the air, face to the mattress. He tosses the robe up out of the way and drives inside me, hands on my hips, fucking me hard and fast.

The pillow’s right there and I grab it and stick my face in it, because now I have to scream, and I do, over and over while he pummels me, and then his fingers find my clit, circling and pressing and pinching, and I come like a runaway freight train, my climax turning me inside out, starbursts of pleasure exploding around every single nerve in my body.

Dante keeps going, dragging me back to meet him with every stroke. I feel another climax building, irresistible, and this time we come together, my pussy clamping around him, squeezing him tight, milking him for every last drop as he pours himself out inside me.

He leans over me, both of us breathing hard. After several long moments, he turns us onto our sides, our bodies still joined, the robe crumpled between us, his arm around my waist, his hand cupping my breast.

Dante is a cuddler. Another surprise. “You okay?” he says.

“So extremely okay.”

“Good.”

We fall quiet, but it’s a warm silence, not awkward. I drift to sleep still tucked against him.

* * *

When I wake, it’s because his hands are moving on me. They light me up like a match to dry tinder, and I fling the robe aside and reach for him. We roll across the bed, and this time I get his cock in my mouth before he can stop me.

“Fuck. Heather, fuck, babe.” Dante’s deep groan of pleasure intoxicates me. His hands tangle in my hair, but he lets me have my way until he’s close, and then he stops me.

I don’t want to stop. Looking up, I meet his eyes, and he gives me a look that reminds me spankings are still on the agenda. Reluctantly, I release him, and he wastes no time in reversing our positions so he can return the favor.

When I’m splayed out on the bed, too weak to move after multiple orgasms, Dante takes his place between my legs and fills me with one long, smooth stroke. He’s determined to keep it slow, this time, gliding in and out of me with endless patience, the delicious friction of his cock in my pussy too much and yet not enough.

That glorious tension is building in my body again, but it still surprises me when a climax rolls over me, making me arch against him and gasp. I’ve never come without my clit being touched before.

As if it’s a signal, Dante wraps my hair around one hand and tugs, forcing my head back, just enough for it to hurt a little. “Fuck, yes,” I hiss. “Harder.”

He moves the hand holding my hair a fraction more. “This?”

“No. You.”

“Legs around my neck,” he grits out. When I obey, he wraps his free arm around my shoulders, holding me down. And then he fucks me hard and fast and relentlessly, just like I want him to, his cock rubbing my clit with every rough stroke, and I come twice more before he follows me over the edge.