Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I still as pain shoots through my pussy.
He’s so thick, long, and unbelievably divine.
“That’s it. Accept me inside,” Dante murmurs when I swivel my hips, fighting to push the pain to pleasure.
When he slips his hand between our bodies and rolls my clit between his thumb and index finger, the pain slowly subsides. I love how full I feel, but pleasure will also triumph pain for me.
I’ve been hurt enough.
“Tell me when you’re ready for me to move—”
“Now,” I interrupt, breathless. “I’m ready now.”
Dante’s soundless chuckles fan my neck with his hot breaths. Before I can panic that I’m making a fool out of myself, he slowly withdraws.
The walls of my vagina suck at him, begging him to stay. It hurts being taken by a man as well-endowed as him, but I much prefer it over the hollow emptiness I feel when he pulls out to the tip.
We grunt in sync when Dante rams back in. He stuffs his cock until it bottoms out at my uterus, and his balls slap my ass.
The spasms it instigates spark signs of a new orgasm forming low in my core. They’re strong and tingling and have me to the point of begging.
“God. More. Please.”
Dante grips my ass firmly enough to mark as he pounds into me on repeat. We fuck like wild animals, uncaring of who may hear us. It’s a dirty, naughty encounter, but ten times better than anything I could have ever imagined.
Within minutes, more than a fine layer of sweat dusts my skin.
I come with a moan, Dante’s name shooting from my throat.
“Yes, angelo,” he grunts, screwing me senseless.
Over and over again, he bounces me on and off his cock. He fucks me possessively, stealing every breathless moan he works hard to achieve. Inevitably, the throbbing of the veins feeding his magnificent manhood reveals he’s seconds from free-falling.
This was never going to be long and loving.
They don’t call it fast and dirty for no reason.
As I coerce him over the ledge, Dante pistons his hips. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts until my name leaves his mouth in a mangled roar.
I fall into orgasmic bliss with him, the spurts of his hot cum too overwhelming for me to act nonchalant.
It takes several long seconds for the throbs of our releases to subside, and even then, Dante is still hard as steel.
“Christ, angelo,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin on my neck. “It just gets better and better.”
He slowly withdraws before placing me back on my feet. My smile is lazy when he cleans up some of the mess between my legs with a handful of tissues he tugs out of a box on a dancer’s makeup cubicle.
My panties have only just snapped back into place when a shout cuts through the lusty haze swamping us.
“Code pink!”
Every stripper, no matter what they’re doing, freezes when those two words are shouted. It’s the universal warning that a child is nearby.
I turn my head, and my heart launches into my throat. Camille is standing outside the dressing room, wearing soccer cleats and a bright yellow uniform. Her hair is pulled out of her face in a messy bun, and her shoes and knees are scuffed with dirt.
Suddenly, Dante’s scent before we altered it with a quick, dirty fuck makes sense. He was at Camille’s soccer game… which he left because of me.
Guilt engulfs me. How could I have been so selfish?
I’m desperate for space, and luckily, Dante is too. He immediately inches back as his hand shoots down to fix his zipper back in place.
As his daughter’s blown-wide eyes take in the glittering costumes in the props room, his jaw muscle twitches. He doesn’t want this life for her, just as I wish I had another option.
I need money, and I need it fast.
Some think stripping is unethical, but it’s legal, so it is the logical choice.
Dante’s once-lusty eyes dart to Camille, who’s too busy admiring the dancers’ props to notice our gawk. Then he shifts them back to me.
Embarrassment washes over me when he drapes a towel used to wipe off body oil over my body. There’s no desire in his eyes now. No longing. He appears ashamed, and it prompts my feet to move before I can answer a single plea of my heart to spend time with Camille again.
Before I can slip out the back door of the dressing room unnoticed, someone says, “I’m sorry, signor. She bolted before I could stop her. She wanted to see the ballerinas.”
Despite the frantic throbs of the veins in his neck, Dante’s clipped timbre is low and controlled. “It’s fine, Agnese. I’m done here anyway.”
His eyes lower to mine, and the message in them is unmistakable.
We’re not done.
Not even close.
Then he turns, gathers Camille in his arms, and walks away.
Chapter 11
Lucia
The cold night air burns the tip of my nose as I push through the club’s back door. The alleyway smells of hot asphalt and the sourness of old beer from dumpsters nearby. My lungs seize when I round the corner.