Page 103 of Executing Malice

The depth, the cushion grinding into my mound, the hand he has on my waist, the other hand he twists up in my hair...

“Don’t stop. Don’t ... fucking...”

He slams harder. Harder. Our bodies slap loud enough that I’m sure everyone can hear it over the movie playing. But I don’t care. Let them watch. I am so close, nothing else matters.

“I’m cumming.” I push back, meeting every brutal thrust. “Cumming. Don’t stop.”

My head is dragged back so his mouth can reach my ear. “Milk me, little whore. Get my seed nice and deep.”

I cum with his promise to put a baby in me ringing in my head and hot jizz squirting up my channel. I’m too busy crumbling to feel the three hard thrusts getting him as close tomy cervix as possible, except the pain adds to my spiral and I wiggle back for more.

He gives me everything and doesn’t pull out even when we’re both gasping and panting. I can barely feel my limbs as I lie boneless and sated across his seat, but I know he’s corking me. Keeping his cum locked up in my body to fulfill his wish for a baby.

I know I already told him I was on the pill but the fact that he keeps trying is amusing. Maybe he thinks if he gets enough cum in me, it’ll override my birth control. But that’s not how it works. Right? Maybe I should double check. Although, a bratty little boy with dark, brown eyes doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Leila?”

“Hm?” I slur, face mashed into leather.

“You okay?”

My entire soul is humming. I never thought that could be possible, yet I’m floating in the most serene cloud.

“Sleep.”

I think I hear a faint chuckle, but it’s muffled by the clink of keys as my cuffs are unlatched. The steel bracelets slip off my wrists, and I think it’s hilarious that he unshackled me before even taking his dick out. But come out it does once I’m free. It slips out with a heavy amount of cum that dribbles down my lips to add to the mess already on his seat.

Gingerly, he lifts me up to stand before him on weak knees. All the while, he maintains a firm hold around my waist with one arm.

The open front of my dress flutters between us in the settling chill. I make to pull it closed, but Dante stops me.

“No.”

“I’m cold,” I protest.

His answer is to pull off his top, slide both hands around my waist and pull me flush into his body. His solid chest cushions my naked breasts as his hands wander down the curve of my back to fist my ass. I’m lifted to my toes where his wet cock smears release across my belly.

“I didn’t say I was done with you, little whore.” His face finds the side of my neck and sinks his teeth into my pulse. “You have eight years to make up for.”

He works his way down to my left nipple and it’s drawn into his mouth. His teeth drag over the peak while his free hand drifts up to my right breast. The nipple there is rolled beneath his thumb, sending a fresh flood of need through me.

“Double feature, huh?” I wheeze, battling back my chuckle.

I catch a flicker of his grin before his mouth descends on mine.

“Four hours of being completely at my mercy where I get to torture you and you can’t make a sound.”

My arms slide around his shoulders as I go up on my toes. My fingers slip through the soft strands at the back of his head, and I drag him closer.

“Challenge accepted.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DANTE

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I’m not in the habit of unnecessary confrontation. I find a mindset like mine has an unpredictability that only ends in one of two ways.