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)
“That’s it?” he repeats. “That’s everything you require? Just me?”
I nod before recalling my stupidity. He needs me to verbalize my replies. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
I swivel my hips as he arches his upward. In a matter of seconds, we find a perfect rhythm. We’re not fucking, but we’re a step up in speed and insanity than we were minutes ago.
Over the next several minutes, he guides me up and down his cock, treating me like I’m his own personal sex toy.
The speed, depth of his thrusts, and eye contact are the perfect combination to send me spiraling into ecstasy. I drink in every expression that crosses his face when the walls of my pussy squeeze his thick cock, and feel every hiss as he struggles to maintain control.
The friction is incredible, and within a handful of thrusts, I’m overwhelmed by the throes of ecstasy.
Leaning back, I dig my nails into Dante’s thick thighs and ride the wave all the way to shore. Lust leaves a light sheen of perspiration on my skin as every muscle in my body tenses.
Dante doesn’t stop, though.
For two hours, he continues thrusting his hips while licking at the droplets of sweat rolling off my breasts and demanding my eyes to his.
Even though I shouldn’t, I give them to him.
By the time his fantastic manhood pulses in warning that he’s about to climax, the early rays of dawn peek through the curtains. Our eyes collide when he guides his hand back between my legs.
While stimulating my clit with purposely timed rolls, he lunges forward, stuffing almost every inch of his cock inside me. We still in unison, our gasps collective, before the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced tears through my body.
The euphoria soaring through me doubles when Dante’s release follows mine. It’s so blinding that I have no choice but to lean on him for support instead of fighting to stay afloat on my own.
Chapter 14
Dante
Iwake to cold sheets and the taunting mock of silence.
Lucia’s apartment is dim since the curtains are still drawn, but even in the dark, the outline of her absence is carved into the silence.
Her sweet, clean scent lingers on the pillow, but she left hours ago.
Fuck it.
My jaw muscles twitch as I drag a hand down my face, and frustration claws at my throat, wanting to burst free. I spent hours last night striving to make Lucia see that she isn’t a commodity. Like Camille, her value isn’t tied to her gender. She can offer more than the warped expectations she’s been taught to swallow.
Whatever is brewing between us is more than she realizes, and possibly more than she may ever be willing to admit. Yet she still slipped away before dawn, as if I’d paid for the honor last night as she believes I did for our first encounter.
In a way, her theory isn’t far off the mark. I spent a fortune last night to spend time with her. None of the funds went to her, though, and that pisses me off more than I care to admit.
It’s clear she needs money. I just have no clue why.
My desperation to make her associate with me is pathetic. I know that. But I do it anyway because I see something in Lucia I haven’t seen from anyone in years. I crave her attention as much as I crave hearing my daughter call me Daddy for the first time.
My phone alarm vibrates on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet. Camille had routines drilled into her so thoroughly in her first four years of life that even if she goes to bed later than usual, she’ll still wake at exactly seven.
A different ache buries itself in my chest. It’s heavy and deep. I hate leaving Lucia’s empty bed, but Camille must come first. Always. She doesn’t fear much, but she’s my father’s only granddaughter and surrounded by four uncles who don’t know the meaning of gentle.
That’s why I asked Valentina to babysit her last night. The nannies are competent, but trust is a rare currency in this world. I can’t afford to spend it lightly.
I perch my ass on the edge of the mattress for a moment, elbows on my knees, staring at the floorboards. Lucia’s absence gnaws at me. I half expected her to leave, but last night felt different. She let me in. Not all the way, but enough to see the edges of something real beneath her armor.
And then she ran.
After standing, my muscles still tender from hours of lovemaking, I tug on the pants left at the foot of the bed and then pick up the shirt Lucia dumped on the floor halfway between our apartments.
Her scent clings to the fabric, and its familiarity batters me under my ribs.
This isn’t the end for us.
Not even close.
The way she comforted me last night when I was snowed under shows we still have more to discuss.