Page 100 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

When I did, tears were cooling on my cheeks and a burn scorched my throat from all the yelling. My body was loosely wrapped around Dante as he churned slower now inside my wet pussy, the sloppy noises of our union making my skin flush and my tired sex clench hard once more all around him.

Dante’s neck was strained with the effort to hold on, the strong column corded, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he tried to swallow past his pleasure.

The pleasure I was giving him.

A different kind of satisfaction curled through me like smoke after the fire. I pulled him tight to me with rubbery limbs and sucked at the lobe of his ear before I whispered, “I’ve never orgasmed like that before.” And it was true, though he didn’t know how much. “Now, I want to seeyoucome forme.”

“Cazzo,” he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut as he powered hard into my slightly aching, buzzing pussy. “You feel better than a dream.”

“Show me how much you love it,” I dared him, nipping at his lobe, then moving down his neck, sinking my teeth into that dense column to feel his strength as he fucked me harder and harder again. “I want to watch what I do to you.”

With one last savage groan, Dante reared back, pulling his throbbing length from my clutching folds to wrap his own meaty fist around it. I watched, shocked and astoundingly aroused by the sight of him beating his cock so viciously over my prone body. He loomed over me, shirt open around the tight, quilted tapestry of his abdomen, face tight with the wildness of his passion. I had never seen or imagined a man sexier than Dante Salvatore.

And then he slammed his free hand against the car beside my hip, the swollen head of his dick shuttling fast between his fingers, and he cried out roughly as the first spurt of his seed shot onto my naked, quivering stomach. I was enthralled by the sight as rope after rope of cum splashed hotly against my skin, coating me in him.

It was base. So dirty it should have beenwrong.

But God, it only felt right to have him mark me that way, possess me in such an elemental way with his seed.

Finished, panting as he braced himself above me, Dante released his still-hard length and lazily smeared his cum into my skin in wide, firm circles. A violent shiver tore its teeth into my spine, but I didn’t stop his possessive act.

Emotion bubbled up in the wake of the passionate fire that had razed me so totally to the ground, new spring growth erupting from the fertilized soil of my soul.

I knew it should have been filthy and wicked, what we did, so publicly and rabidly like animals in heat.

But I’d just had the first truly erotic experience of my life at twenty-seven years old. Not just a flutter of pleasant sensation occasionally and the gentle intimacy of holding a man against me, but the teeth-chattering, bone-rattling euphoria I’d only ever read about in books or heard about from friends and family.

It was more than that, though. It satisfied a bone-deep longing I had for so long to be wanted fiercely, above all else. To the point, even, of insanity.

And that final act? Dante watching his hand massage his essence into my skin as if it would stay there like a tattoo, a brand, forever?

It settled some primal need to be owned fully by someone else.

To be wanted and accepted.

To belong.

Before I could tamp down the impulse, a sob fell wetly from between my lips. I hastened to cover my mouth, eyes wide over my hands as I stared at Dante who looked down at me in horrified shock.

“Did I hurt you,cara?” he demanded, quickly tucking himself back in his pants and righting my own clothes before reaching down to collect me gently into his arms.

It only made me sob harder, my chest a cold engine stuttering to life with furious emotion. I couldn’t stop. Panicked, I clutched at him even as I tried to hide my face in his neck, the tears sliding hot and heavy down my cheeks into the open collar of his shirt.

“Hush, hush,” he murmured as he stood, my body easy in his hold. “Io sono con te. I am with you.”

I could do nothing but cry. The tears scalded my eyes as they pooled on my lower lids, flooding my face until it was hot and itchy with salt. I rubbed my cheeks back and forth over Dante’s skin and shirt like a child unable to handle the amount of sorrow in their blood. I was inconsolable with emotions too big to be harnessed by words. Even when I tried to open my mouth as Dante took us into the elevator up to his apartment, only whimpers and sucking gasps left my throat.

Where did one learn the right vocabulary for such things?

How did I learn to thank a man for the simple yet profound act of loving me?

With his body.

As a friend.

Looking after me even though it was a wretched job I’d never be able to make easier.

Seeingme when I’d been secretly fearful for so long that I would die unseen and unknown.