Page 75

Dante

When I saw Rachel, she was like a goddamn dream come to life.

When I saw her pleasuring herself whilst watching me, I almost lost what was left of my fucking mind.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped out of the shower and approached her, needing her near me.

I needed to touch her skin. I needed to breathe her scent. Fucking my hand in the shower wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not when she was so near.

She backed up as I approached, moving away from the shower wall and over to the other side of the room. Her hands came up, almost as though she was protecting herself and warding me off. I didn’t care.

I picked up my pace, my long strides easily overtaking her shorter steps.

I grasped her slender throat in my hand, forcing her to walk faster, her legs stumbling to keep up with my steps. I kept going, backing her up until she was flush against the wall, trapped against my body.

I could hear her breathing hitch, the excited little sobs of pleasure. I could practically smell her arousal as her fear kicked in, just the way she fucking liked it, and it was like a drug to me.

She was my addiction. She always fucking had been. I was so in tune with her; I knew every way her body reacted.

From the way her tongue ran across her lower lip.

To the way her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, basic bodily functions taking second place against such force of arousal.

From the way her hands shook, the way her thighs clenched, the way she went on her tiptoes as her entire body tensed, waiting, wanting .

“Strip,” I heard myself bark at her, taking me by surprise as much as she was. I was no longer in control of myself. All I could think about was the need to possess her. To own her. To make her mine in the only way I knew how. The only way I could ensure she would stay with me.

She remained still, her huge eyes staring up at me with such fear and yet such longing. I tightened my grip on her throat, loving the way she let out a strangled yelp. “Strip,” I demanded again.

She slowly began to move, her small hands running down her body to grasp the shirt at the hem. I released her throat just longer enough for her to pull it over her head, grasping it again when she shook her hair over her shoulders.

Fuck me, I love her fucking hair.

I kept my eyes on her, watching as she pushed her leggings and underwear over her hips and down her slender legs.

I loved her fucking legs, too. I loved to feel them wrapped around me, or thrown over my shoulders, or shaking beneath me as I pushed her over the abyss into one orgasm after another.

I ignored the way my cock leaked as she reached up to pull her bra straps off her shoulders before she arched her back and unclasped it. She held it against her chest for a brief moment before she let it drop to the floor.

I let go of her throat, placing my hands on either side of her head, finally letting my eyes roam over her body.

Her nipples were as hard as rock, demanding my attention. Her chest was heaving, and goosebumps broke out in awareness wherever my eyes went.

Her thighs were shaking as she locked her knees, keeping them shut.

She had the right idea.

Don’t do this, Dante. Let her fucking go.

I really should. It would be humiliating for her, but I should tell her I don’t want her. I should laugh at her and tell her to get dressed. I should tell her to get the fuck out of this room, and if she refused, I should drag her out by her hair and lock the door shut behind her.

I should do all those things, because if I didn’t, and if I allowed myself to give in to these crazed urges, if I unleashed everything I was feeling, I would end up hurting her. I knew it as surely as I knew that I would go mad if I didn’t fuck her right here, right now. Consequences be damned.

I slammed my eyes shut and was one second away from ordering her out when she made a noise.

It was a soft noise, but it was one wrung straight from deep inside her. It was wanting. It was fearful. It was fucking nectar.

I buried my head in her neck, inhaling the scent of her fear.

Let her go, Dante.

She moaned as my breath touched her skin, my nose running up the length of her neck.

Let her go, Dante.

She went higher on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to mine, waiting for me to cross that final space.

Let her go, Dante.

She stroked the back of her hand up my stomach, along my chest and over my shoulders, looping them around my neck.

Let her go, Dante.

Her breath was brushing my lips, snipping away at the last of my self-control.

“Dante,” she breathed, her lips touching mine for a brief second before I finally did the right thing, in all the wrong fucking ways.

I flung her away from me, sending her flying to the floor as I shot to the other end of the room, putting some much needed distance between us.

She cried out, her body slumping. I looked at her, completely naked, completely vulnerable, and I wanted to fucking destroy her. She moved slightly, and that’s when I saw that the insides of her thighs were soaked, her pussy juices running down them.

“If you want me, then fucking crawl to me,” I heard myself say.

Fuck yes.

If she crawls to me, I will legit fucking explode. I would kill to see her on her hands and knees, slowly inching her way over to me.

Fuck!

The thought alone had me grasping my cock again, unable to resist the urge to stroke myself at the thought of Rachel crawling, begging to be fucked .

Her eyes widened as she focused on my movements, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Crawl to me, Rachel. Show me what an obedient little whore you are. Come and show me how much you want my cock by getting on your hands and knees and fucking begging for it.”

She moaned softly, her palms going flat against the floor as she raised her ass into the air.

Dear fucking God.

That image would be forever burned into my memory.

She slowly crawled to me, her hands moving one in front of the other, making her hips sway. Her ass was up high, her ass cheeks jiggling as she shuffled forward.

“Such a good girl,” I ground out, stroking my cock faster the closer she got. Pre-cum leaked out of the tip and dripped onto the floor between us. Rachel crawled closer, her eyes never leaving my cock as she watched me fuck myself again.

When she was mere inches away from me, I crouched down low and grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look up at me.

I forced my lips against hers, pressing down hard enough for her to cry out before I hissed against her mouth: “Next time, when I tell you to crawl, you do it without fucking hesitation. You need to remember who the fuck you belong to, and who the fuck commands you. If I tell you to crawl, you crawl. If I push you to the floor and tell you to lick my cum off it, your tongue better be darting out, ready to obey, Rachel. You need to remember your fucking place.”

She cried out again as I did exactly as I threatened and pushed her head to the floor, directly next to the cum I had leaked.

She shook her head, a sob wracking her body as she refused. I pushed her down again, keeping my hand fisted into her hair and my other pressing against her shoulder blades, keeping her entire upper body low to the floor.

She fought against my hold, her hair tugging against my grasp in what must have been a painful move, but she didn’t relent.

I positioned myself behind her, letting go of her hair but pushing harder between her shoulder blades. I grabbed the base of my cock, lined it up with her tight hole, and buried myself in her pussy with one hard thrust.

She screamed at the intrusion, her pussy forced to stretch to accommodate my size.

“You don’t get to fucking say no to me,” I hissed, grabbing her hips with both hands and pounded into her.

Her hands were still flat on the carpet, her fingers clenching as she tried her best to meet me thrust for thrust. Her moans were wild and loud.

She had adjusted to the intrusion and now she was bouncing back on my dick, her pussy clenching around me.

I slapped her ass hard enough to make a loud clap echo out into the room. She cried out, so I did it again, this time harder. I looked down and saw the white of my handprint and felt my cock jerk in response.

“Are you ready to fucking listen yet?” I asked, slapping her a third time.

“Fuck, Dante,” she screamed, biting down on her clenched fist. I spanked her again, this time on her other ass cheek, taking her by surprise. She moaned low in her throat, her pussy pulsating around my cock.

Her ass was already beginning to bruise, but it didn’t stop me from delivering yet another painful slap. My hand stung from the force of it, but if she felt any pain, she gave no indication. She moaned again, her hips rocking against me, wanting more. Always wanting more.

This woman would be the fucking death of me.

She matched me move for move, forever locked in the death of checkmate. Never relenting, never giving in. She gave as good as she got, never backing down, never showing weakness.

I fucking loved it, and I loved her.

And yet I couldn’t stand her. She caused nothing but pain. She was my weakness. My vice. I needed her to feel hurt, like I had felt hurt. I needed her to experience the heart shattering knifes blade of betrayal. I needed her wounded, like she had wounded me.

I felt her pussy tense up and I pulled out of her, not wanting her to cum just yet.

She moaned her disappointment, but I ignored her and instead picked her up under her armpits and threw her on the bed, not caring that she hit herself on the suitcase. Not caring that her head bounced off the edge. Not caring about any damn fucking thing.

I was on her in a second, flipping her onto her stomach and pushing her head into the pillow with one hand and spreading her open with the other. I slammed my cock back inside her, fucking her like she had been begging me to do. I cared little about her pleasure. I wanted to fucking punish her.