Page 113 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

My next thrust sent me straight to the root inside her.

Together, we cried out with the sheer beauty of it.

But it wasn’t enough.

No matter how hard I fucked her, it couldn’t satisfy the bestial craving inside me.

The piano shook and jangled with sound as I thrust her again and again into it, her hands and raised leg banging into the keys.

“I need more,” she cried out, shaking her head. She arched her back as if she was trying to climb out of her skin.

“I’ll give it to you,” I promised, covering her back to clasp my teeth around her neck in a way that made me want to roar with pride.

I pinned her there with my teeth and my body, one hand diving around her hip to frame her swollen clit with my fingers, sliding back and forth in her wet until the friction built like flame.

“You’re going to make me come,” she wheezed in Italian as she braced for impact. “Dio mio,Dante, oh my God.”

I took a risk and reared my hand back from her clit before slapping my palm lightly back down over it.

The single slap popped the top off her climax.

“Fuck,” she cried out, scrambling against the keys as she thrashed and trembled and kicked out against the force of the pleasure ripping through her.

I held on tight, her slick limbs slipping against my own. Her pussy clenched me so tightly I couldn’t thrust, only seat myself to the root and feel her break apart all around me.

It was enough to feel that. To know I had made Elena Lombardi fracture so beautifully. To know I was the only man who had ever brought her such pleasure.

I ground my hips even deeper and spilled myself inside her. My forehead pressed to her shoulder, and I came and came and came, filling her with my seed.

Vaguely, I was aware of her gasp as she felt me kick and spurt within her.

Not so vaguely, I was aware that she reached one hand back to press into my hip in order to hold me closer.

Afterward, squeezed dry like a used tea towel, I sprawled against her, panting hard as I struggled to remember my own name.

“Well,” Elena’s soft voice sounded after a moment, muffled by her hair and the weight of me plastered on top of her. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to play the piano again after that without becoming aroused.”

I laughed, the sound deep in my belly, the feel of it almost as good as the climax she’d wrung from me. Giving in to my affectionate impulses, I rubbed my nose into the back of her hair before I stood to help peel her off the piano. When I turned her in my arms, she wasn’t smiling, but there was a softness in her eyes, the gray velvet with contentment.

It just about took my breath away.

Soft, content Elena.

Somehow even better than the weapon of a woman she presented to the world.

This Lena was only for me.

I pressed another kiss to her forehead, needing to touch her again.

“Maybe we should do that on my desk,” I suggested lasciviously. “It would make my accounting much more interesting.”

She giggled—giggled—and I wondered if she was a little love drunk, climax high.

I didn’t want her to close down just yet, insisting she had to sleep in her own fucking bed and leave me there in a room still echoing with her song, still perfumed with us. So, I tugged her over to one of the couches and then wrapped her in a bear hug before lifting her from the ground and flopping to my back on the cushions.

“You oaf,” she protested without fire as she tried to get up.

I wrapped my legs around her too, pinning her against me. When she canted her head back to look into my eyes with a raised brow, I winked.