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His teeth grazed her shoulder.
“You were made to be taken like this.”
Her entire body arched when he twisted his fingers inside her again, pressing harder, faster. Her leg shook where it rested on the desk. Heat built in her belly, her breath getting shorter, broken by helpless moans.
“Please…” she whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.
“Not yet.”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. She was close, too close, but then he pulled his fingers out of her with a slick sound and a guttural growl.
“Fuck. Look at this,” he muttered as he brought his fingers to her lips. “Taste what you do to me.”
Anya’s lips parted instinctively, and he slid his soaked fingers into her mouth, watching her with a gaze that burned. She moaned around him, her eyes half-lidded.
Then suddenly, she felt him behind her again. The sound of his belt unbuckling made her heart stutter.
“Keep your leg up,” he ordered. “Don’t you dare let it fall.”
She didn’t get a chance to answer. His hands gripped her hips hard, dragging her body back against him. Then she felt the thick pressure of him, blunt and hot, pressing against her slick entrance.
She barely got out a breath before he thrust deep inside her with a rough groan.
“Dante—oh God—”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He gripped her hips tight and began to move, each thrust deep and fast, pounding into her with a rough rhythm that made her cry out with every motion. Her leg shook from the strain, but he didn’t let her move—he was in full control, dominating her body, her breath, her very thoughts.
“You feel this?” he growled, slamming into her again. “You were made for me.”
She tried to answer, but her moans swallowed her words. All she could do was cling to the desk and take everything he gave her.
His hands moved again—one pressing between her shoulder blades, forcing her further down, the other sliding around to rub that sensitive spot between her legs in time with every thrust.
She shattered around him with a loud cry, her walls clenching hard, body trembling. But he didn’t stop. He kept moving, drawing out every ripple of her release.
“Again,” he growled.
“Dante—I can’t—I—” Her words melted into another moan as he angled his hips, thrusting even deeper, rubbing against every raw nerve she had.
“Yes, you can,” he bit out. “You’ll take it. You’ll take all of me.”
Her leg nearly gave out, but he held her up, fucking her through it, hand steady against her thigh.
She came again—harder, her voice breaking as she whimpered his name, body spasming with pleasure that bordered on pain.
Only then did he slow, and even then, it was to pull her upright against him, her back flush with his sweat-slicked chest. He kissed her shoulder—just once—but it felt like a brand. His girth still hard, still inside her, pulsing with restrained fury.
“I’m not done,” he whispered, voice low and rough against her ear. “You cum so fucking easily.”
Dante’s breath came hot against her ear, his grip still hard on her hips. He didn’t pull out. He stayed buried deep inside her, his hand pressed firmly over her abdomen as if to feel the way she clenched around him.
Then, slowly, he pulled out, dragging a groan from both their throats. His hands seized her shoulders and turned her around in one swift motion, lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the desk, legs parted and trembling.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
Anya obeyed, leaning onto her elbows as he knelt between her legs. He hooked one thigh over his shoulder and dragged his fingers along her slick folds again, slow this time—teasing, circling her entrance but not yet plunging back in.
“You're shaking,” he murmured, the corners of his lips curling. “And I’ve barely even started.”