Page 13 of The Rival’s Obsession (The Black Ledger Billionaires #3)

D ante lowers down my body like a man approaching worship.

Every brush of his stubble, every graze of his mouth down my stomach, makes the blood roar in my ears. His fingers stay curled around the insides of my thighs, spreading me wide like a gift he’s unwrapping just for himself.

When he reaches my center, he pauses.

And breathes me in.

A long, guttural inhale—nose nearly touching my clit, lips hovering—like he needs the scent of me the way other men need oxygen.

“Christ,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You smell like you’re already wrecked for me.”

I open my eyes in time to watch him drag his tongue slowly—so slowly—up the length of my pussy. His moan vibrates into me, so deep I feel it in my ribcage.

My head falls back on instinct. “Oh, fuck.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just keeps licking. Long, reverent strokes that part me, lap at me, claim me. His tongue is firm, deliberate, and when he circles my clit the first time, my hips jolt.

He growls, low. “Keep still, piccola . I haven’t even started.”

He shifts lower, tongue teasing my entrance, licking into me slow and wet. His hands tighten on my thighs. One shifts down to grip my ass; the other pulls gently on the chain between the clamps—and the added tension sends a jolt straight through my core.

I cry out.

“That’s it,” Dante murmurs, mouth wet against my cunt. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, Dante—more?—”

He sucks my clit into his mouth and flattens his tongue over it, flicking fast, merciless. It’s filthy and precise, and I swear I see stars behind my eyes. I’m panting, writhing, overwhelmed—but then he eases off, letting the tip of his tongue circle lazily.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts, voice smug. “I thought you said you needed this.”

I glare down at him, breath catching. “I do.”

His mouth is back on me in a second.

The pressure builds fast and tight—too tight—until I’m arching against the mattress, fingers in his hair, the chain tugging, and the clamps biting just enough to send everything over the edge.

I come with a sob, a curse, Dante’s name gasped from my throat like a prayer and a warning.

He groans like he’s the one climaxing, tongue softening but never stopping, riding out every twitch, every pulse of pleasure as I pant and shake beneath him.

When I finally collapse back into the bed, boneless and throbbing, he kisses my inner thigh.

Then, casually, darkly: “You taste even better when you come for me.”

I don’t have the breath to speak yet.

But I know I’ll be ready to answer him when he fucks me next.

“I’m going to eat this pussy so much tonight.”

My body’s still pulsing when Dante comes back up between my thighs. I don’t even have time to catch my breath before sharp, shocking cold glides over my clit.

“Fuck,” I gasp, hips bucking instinctively as my legs twitch to close.

But his hands are already there—firm on my thighs, spreading me wider.

“Easy,” he murmurs, voice like smoke. “You can take a little more.”

I open my eyes and see it: the cube between his fingers, melting slightly from the heat of his skin. Then his mouth joins it—hot tongue tracing the same place he just iced, a devastating contrast that makes me whimper.

He does it again. Ice. Tongue. Ice. Tongue.

My clit throbs, hypersensitive and aching, and just when I think I’m going to come again, he eases off with a dark chuckle.

“No,” he says softly. “Not yet.”

The word coils inside me like a command, because the bastard knows. Knows I’m right there—quivering on the edge—and he’s holding me back like it’s his favorite game.

I don’t have time to beg before he’s reaching for the small silver clip attached to the chain on my collar.

I freeze, breath caught.

“You still want more, piccola ?” he asks, voice low, deliberate.

I nod once, then again, and whisper, “Yes.”

His lips curl as he leans in and affixes the clit clamp carefully—precisely—fastening it just tight enough to make me gasp and moan all at once.

Pleasure bursts like sparks across my nerves.

“Oh my God—Dante?—”

He watches me squirm, watches my hands fist in the sheets. His thumb brushes the chain that runs from the collar to my breasts and now my clit, a beautiful silver Y bisecting me.

The touch alone makes me come as he pulls and moves the chain until I’m moaning with each twitch of my legs.

“You look ruined already,” he says, voice thick with hunger. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

I almost say then do it , but I don’t need to.

He rises, grabs a condom from the nightstand, and I watch as he tears it open, rolls it on.

This cock is massive. Thick. And all mine for the night.

God, I love my job.

His eyes stay locked on mine as he crawls back over me, one hand wrapped around the chains, the other guiding his cock to my entrance.

He fills me in one smooth stroke—deep, tight, perfect—and pauses when he’s fully inside.

We both groan as I work to breathe around the monster he’s just slid into me.

But before I can move, his fist closes around the chain and pulls—gently, but firm enough to make the clamp on my clit tug and the ones on my nipples tighten. I call out on instinct.

“Don’t come,” he warns, eyes blazing. “You want to come? You ask.”

I bite my lip, already trembling. “And if I don’t?”

He leans down, dragging his teeth along my throat. “Then I’ll stop and spank this beautiful ass with my belt.”

He moves then—deep strokes, slow but merciless—hips grinding with every thrust, his grip on the chains keeping me high, on edge, on fire.

“I know how badly you want my fat cock fucking you.”

I moan. I writhe. I beg.

He fucks me through all of it.

And never lets me fall.

I lose count of how many times he edges me.

It’s everything—his cock, his hands, the chains biting into my skin when he pulls, the throbbing ache of the clamp between my legs. Every inch of me is tuned to him, responsive, strung tight like a wire threatening to snap.

His hips grind into mine as he fucks me deeper, harder. His rhythm is relentless—made of frustration and fury—and I know without asking:

He’s not just fucking me.

He’s exorcising Grant from his bloodstream.

His hand slides up from my breast, past the chain at my collarbone, and curls around my throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to let me feel it.

“You close?” he rasps, eyes blazing down at me.

I nod. Whisper, “Yes.”

He tightens his grip.

My breath catches, my body instinctively tightening around him. The edges of my vision blur, and the pleasure spikes. My pulse pounds beneath his fingers.

And just when I think I’ll come anyway—he lets go.

I gasp, air rushing in, and the orgasm fizzles out, leaving me whimpering.

“Not yet,” he says. “Again.”

He does it again.

And again.

I’m soaked. Shaking. My body begging while he controls every second of it.

When he finally lets me come, it’s with his hand around my throat, cock driving deep, and his words growled against my ear: “Now, piccola .”

“Choke my dick with your tight pussy, baby.”

My release slams over me—blinding and full—and just as it begins to crest, he tugs the chains and removes the nipple clamps in one fast, practiced flick.

“Ah—fuck!” I cry out, the sharp sting turning instantly into another wave of pleasure, rolling right over the last one like a thunderclap.

I don’t even have time to breathe before he’s fucking me through it, controlling every pulse, every contraction. My mind blanks. I don’t know my own name.

I barely register the next—until he finally, finally reaches between us and slides the clit clamp off.

And then I see stars.

My body convulses, hands clawing at his back as I scream his name, my legs trembling with the aftershocks. My vision goes white. I am undone.

I’ve had every kind of sex imaginable. Every kind of orgasm, too. But nothing has ever shattered me like this.

Never so hard it feels like dying and being reborn at once.

I barely register the sound of his groan, the way his hips stutter, the chains still taut around my neck as he pulls them, anchoring himself to me while his own release takes him.

His body is over mine. Our breaths heavy, faces so close our noses brush each other.

“Perfect.” He steps back first.

Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s tasting what’s left of control.

Then he reaches for his bourbon like we didn’t just fuck the world sideways.

I let out a stunned laugh, dragging a hand down my face. “Jesus, Dante. That was… I mean, I’ve been fucked—but that?” I shake my head, lips curving. “That was criminal.”

He smirks, chest still rising and falling. Doesn’t even try to deny it.

I roll toward him, voice low and teasing. “How many rounds can you go?”

He reaches for his bourbon, takes a slow sip, and meets my gaze like he’s already inside me again.

“You want to know my limit?”

“I’ll fuck you until you tell me when to stop.”

I grin, lips swollen and thoroughly satisfied. “Then get more bourbon.”

M y body feels like it’s somewhere in the stratosphere, floating beyond the confines of this penthouse bed—even though I’m lying right beside him.

Muscles: nonfunctional. Skin: humming. My breath has finally stopped stuttering out in ragged bursts, but the aftershocks still dance across my thighs like little electric ghosts.

We face each other on the bed, the sheets a tangled wreck beneath us. Both of us wrecked too—but in the best fucking way. Like we’ve emptied each other out and siphoned every last drop of control we had left.

At some point—hours ago—we stopped just long enough to devour Thai takeout, eating like it was fuel and we were engines in heat.

Now, we’re just… here. Still naked. Still wired.

Sweaty as the sin we just enjoyed.

Not with tenderness. Not with affection.

Just with the sharp-edged awareness that we’re very good at this.

I arch a brow, curiosity breaking through the quiet. “How the fuck can you keep going like that?”

Dante’s mouth tilts in a half smirk—lazy and knowing. “I’ve perfected orgasming without finishing.”

That earns him a skeptical lift of my chin.

“Ah,” I answer teasing. “Now I know why your Companion survey rating was so high.”

He shrugs, tenderly dragging his fingertips down my thigh, still proprietary even in the silence. “Men think orgasm and ejaculation are the same thing. They’re not. You practice for it—learn how to control it. No refractory period, no crash. I can come as many times as I want… just like women can.”

I blink. “You’re a fucking unicorn.”

He smirks. “You’re welcome.”

The quiet falls again.

But this time, it isn’t weighted in sex or sweat. It’s heavier. More rooted.

My mind edges back to yesterday. To the question he wouldn’t answer. And even now—after he’s fucked me over and over again—I still want the one answer he keeps avoiding.

So I ask, quieter this time. “Does he know you love him?”

A pause.

Then: “Yeah.”

The weight of it sits between us.

I study his face. “Do you think he loves you back?”

Dante’s jaw tightens. “I used to think so. Now I’m not sure.”

I nod slowly, letting that settle. I reach up, brush a finger along his jaw, then meet his eyes again.

“Then let’s see if we can pull the two of you back together.”