39. AMANDA

I shudder as the skin of Dante’s torso touches mine. His muscles are like stone underneath.

“I want you,” I breathe in his ear. “I’ve never wanted anything so much.”

Our hands explore each other for a few moments. He caresses my tits as I stroke his cock, both of us moving in time to the other’s motions. Finally, his fingers reach my outer lips.

The sensation of his skin on mine down there is primal, like something beyond thought, a basic bodily need. I can feel myself getting wetter at his touch, in preparation for what’s to come.

Finally.

After several glorious moments of this, Dante lifts me and lays me back down with my head on one of the dozen pillows on his huge bed.

On our huge bed.

I shiver as he starts kissing my neck, then down to my shoulders, then my belly, and finally to my mound. Ripples of ecstasy ride up from my groin into my core as his tongue makes contact with my clit.

My legs open wider to receive him. His motions are slow, deliberate, building my enjoyment with each pass. It’s not the urgent, driving passion of the plane. This is slower, more loving. He’s taking his time. And I’m glad, because I would feel this way every moment for the rest of my life, if it were possible.

“Dante,” I sigh, stroking his hair. “This is heaven.”

After an eon of easy pleasure, he starts to gain momentum, pressing harder. My hips respond of their own accord, listing in time with his movements, until suddenly all I can think of is feeling him inside me. My walls are already slick – I don’t want to wait any more.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

I bite back a whimper as he gives my pussy one last, loving kiss before lifting himself back up towards me. My heart is doing triple duty – passion and fear mingled together – as I think about what comes next.

Dante positions himself between my legs, kneeling back on his haunches. I think of the time in the gardens, where just the tip of his cock against me was enough to send my in spasms. The thought of what the whole shaft can do makes me tremble.

Out of nowhere, he says: “I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry,” I soothe. “Just let it happen. I’m ready for it.”

He starts with the tip, and it feels like heaven, just like in the garden: the softness, the feel of his skin on mine, back and forth, front to back. I can feel myself getting wetter with each stroke.

Finally, a stroke becomes a gentle thrust inside my opening, and I gasp. The pain is more than I imagined. He’s so big… the sensation of tearing makes my gut hitch. I reach up and pull myself to his cannonball of a shoulder, biting down gently on the flesh there to keep from crying out.

Then he’s through. The pain is still there, but now it’s mixed with the pleasure, as his cock slides deeper and deeper inside me.

“It’s good,” I whisper in his ear. “Keep going.”

A whole new world of sensations opens up to me as he inches farther in. The feeling of having him inside me is so natural, so right. Like we’re becoming one.

Dante’s breathing is steady as he begins his first, slow withdrawal. With his next thrust, he adds a little more power, and pulls out a little faster. Each stroke is an explosion of sensations, a journey through heaven and hell.

“I’ve wanted to be inside you since the moment we met,” he breathes.

I grab his head in my hands and cover his mouth with mine, tasting myself on his lips and not caring. Dante times his thrusts with each kiss until I can’t breathe anymore and have to break contact.

“Oh God,” I gasp in his ear.

He keeps his strokes gentle as my walls stretch to accommodate his girth. But I want him to lose control. I want him to be the animal I know he really is.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. “Fuck me hard.”

He reacts like a tiger being let off of a chain. Suddenly his strokes become faster, more powerful. I wrap my legs around his waist, bucking upwards with each thrust, holding on for dear life.

His lips find mine again and we twine our tongues together as he gets closer to climax. I can hear his breathing rasp, feel the tension in his muscles as his moment of release nears.

“That’s it, baby,” I say. “That’s it. Let go.”

His passion doubles, then doubles again until he finally wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck. My legs cling to his hips as I feel the power of his explosion deep inside me, the feeling of his force in a place where, until tonight, I’d never felt anything before.

It seems to last forever, our bodies working as one, his muscles tensing like steel cables under his skin.

Finally, his grip softens and he exhales heavily in my ear. I breathe in the air from his lungs as if it could sustain me on its own.

“That was unbelievable,” I pant. “I never dreamed it would be like that.”

His eyes meet mine, and we simply stare into each other for several long moments. I’d give anything to know what was going on in his mind.

“I want it to be good for you,” he says.

“It was,” I say. “It really was incredible.”

“I want to make it even more incredible.”

He slides out of me, dropping to his side next to me. I take his head in my hands and place it on my shoulder, stroking it gently as his fingertip traces figure eights along my belly.

“There’s alcohol out in the parlor,” he says after a while. “Would you like some?”

“I would,” I say. “But that would mean you’d have to get up, and that would mean you wouldn’t be next to me. You can see the problem there.”

He grins. “What if you wrapped yourself around me and I carried you out there?”

My eyes widen at the idea. That could be interesting.

Dante planks himself over top of me and I wrap my arms and legs around him. With a powerful grunt, he straightens up and slides off the bed.

He’s actually carrying me like an oversized baby. I can’t help but giggle.

“What’s so funny about a man carrying his wife around?” he says. “There’s booze to be drunk. As your John Wayne once said, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

He lifts the silver bucket from its perch on the coffee table and brings it back into the bedroom with us. As he reaches the edge of the bed, I let go, dropping spread-eagle onto my back.

Dante pours us each a flute of champagne and hands me one.

“I’m really starting to get a taste for this,” I say after a long sip.

“You’ll never believe this,” he says. “But I’m beginning to develop a taste for Budweiser.”

We both giggle. The conversation is so easy now that we both know we’ll be spending the whole night together with nothing else to do but drink and make love.

“Is there a shower in this tomb?” I ask.

“You’re speaking of your bedroom, my lady. Show some respect.”

“I’ll show you some swatches, is what I’ll do. This cave needs a woman’s touch. It looks like Dracula’s castle.”

He shakes his head. “You make a woman a princess and this is what happens.”

“Answer the question,” I say. “Shower?”

“Yes. See that door there?”

I stand up and put my flute on the night table, then take his hand.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Are we going somewhere?” he asks, looking a bit uneasy.

“No,” I say with a leer. “But we’ve got a looonng night ahead of us, and I want to try everything before the sun comes up.”