Page 37 of The Rival’s Obsession (The Black Ledger Billionaires #3)

His face goes red in a heartbeat. A full-body blush that starts in his cheeks and spills down his throat.

I tilt my head, gaze fixed on him. “No, no. You have to tell me. You said it more than once. So why was the dildo eight inches?”

He groans and throws himself back onto the mattress like I’ve just mortally wounded him. Arms over his face. “Dante...”

I crawl up over him slowly, deliberately, until I’m straddling his hips and leaning in. “Answer me, Lucciolina. Why?”

He lets out a long breath. “Because...” He hesitates, then mutters, “Because I overheard you in the locker room after rugby practice one day.”

I raise a brow, waiting.

“You said you measured yourself hard,” he says, face flaming, “and it was eight inches.”

My smile is slow. Sinful. The kind that would tempt angels to fall.

I kiss him again, biting his lip just hard enough to make him gasp before I pull away.

“Oh, baby...”

I stand, tug him upright by the hands, and watch as he sits back up on the edge of the bed, blinking up at me with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Then I shove my lounge pants down and step out of them.

My cock—hard and heavy—springs free, hanging thick and proud right in front of his face.

“That,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along his bottom lip, “was when we were sixteen, Lucciolina.”

He stares.

“You’ll find,” I say, voice dropping, “I’m quite a bit longer now.”

His breath catches. His eyes drop, taking me in with slow, reverent hunger. His hands slide up my thighs, warm and steady.

He wets his lips—and my cock twitches at the sight.

He looks up, grinning now. Seductive. Confident in a way that makes my chest tighten.

Then, without a word, he closes his eyes and finally takes his first taste of me.

Grant sucks me like he’s dying.

Like he’s been starving for this—for me—and finally, finally has permission to devour.

All breath is sucked out of my body with each pull of his sinful mouth.

My head falls back, a groan tearing out of me as pleasure hits like a goddamn freight train.

“Fuck—Grant, Cristo, così bravo? * ,” I choke out, fingers threading into his hair. I try to be gentle, but the second he tries to take me deeper—all the way down—I lose the ability to pretend I have any self-control left.

“Sì, amore mio? * ... just like that.”

I fist his hair and start to thrust—slow but deep—and he lets me. No flinching. No hesitation. Just wide, wet heat and soft moans that vibrate down my cock like he wants me to lose it.

And fuck me—I might.

He feels like heaven.

But I want to see his face. I want to see the hunger in his eyes—the same hunger clawing through me.

I pull him off with a gasp, and he lets go with a wet, obscene pop.

His lips are swollen. His eyes wild. His cheeks flushed like he’s drunk on me.

“Look at you,” I murmur, brushing his messy hair back, voice wrecked with need. “You’re fucking starving for me, aren’t you?”

He nods, breathless.

“Good,” I say, pushing him back onto the mattress. “Because I’m starving too.”

I crawl on top of him, chasing his mouth every inch of the way. Kissing him like I need to taste myself on his tongue. Like it’s the only thing that will keep me tethered to this earth.

I shove his pants down and off, tossing them somewhere I don’t care to remember.

We’re both naked now. Both of us hard and aching.

I don’t even know who reaches for who first, but suddenly we’re shifting, twisting—his head at my hips and mine at his. A perfect, messy tangle of mouths and want.

I take him into my mouth and he gasps.

I groan around him as he sucks me down again, our bodies moving in rhythm, in sync. Two halves of a desperate, frenzied whole.

It’s overwhelming—too much and not enough.

He moans when I swirl my tongue. I groan when he swallows me deep. Our hands clench. Our thighs tense. We’re close—so fucking close.

I pull off just long enough to pant, “Don’t come, just orgasm. Not all the way. I want to fuck you until the sun comes up, Lucciolina.”

He lets out a strangled sound around my cock, and I feel him twitch on my tongue.

We work each other like men possessed—neither of us holding back. We want to please each other. Wreck each other.

And when the moment hits, it’s like lightning.

My climax rips through me, raw and relentless, just as his hips stutter in my hands.

He only comes a little—just a taste.

And I don’t waste a single drop.

Grant is breathless beneath me as I kiss my way up his body—slow, reverent. Tasting every inch of his skin, every shiver. His chest heaves. His fingers tremble where they tangle in the sheets. In my hair.

He’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I can feel him unraveling for me.

When I reach his mouth, I pause, hovering just above him.

“I want to watch you this time,” I murmur, voice wrecked. “When I slide into you, I want to look into your eyes.”

His hips jerk. A soft, helpless sound escapes him—somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He’s grinding up against me now, needy and desperate, chasing any kind of friction.

“Fuck,” I hiss, “I can’t get enough of you.”

I sit back on my knees between his spread thighs, taking in the sight of him—flushed and panting, pupils blown wide, stroking himself with shaky fingers as he watches me.

I don’t look away as I lube my cock—slow, deliberate—letting him see how slick and ready I’m getting for him.

His breath catches with every movement, his eyes glued to my dick. He’s obsessed. And I love it.

“You watching, Lucciolina?” I murmur, voice low and rough. “I’m going to fuck you raw.”

He gasps, hips twitching.

“Forever,” I add. “Because this tight little hole? It’s mine. It belongs to me. No one else gets to touch. No one else gets this. No condom. No barrier. No one between us. Ever. You understand?”

He moans—loud—his whole body trembling. He nods, frantic.

“Say it.”

“It’s yours,” he whispers. “Fuck, Dante, please. I’m yours.”

That’s right.

I slide my fingers between his cheeks—rubbing, teasing, circling his entrance—until he’s squirming. Begging. His voice breaking as he pleads for more—for me.

“God, please, I need you inside. Need your cock—fuck, Dante, please.” He begs as I tease his mouth with my tongue.

I press in—slow and careful—watching every flicker of emotion cross his face. I ease past that tight ring of muscle, groaning as I finally sink into him.

Fucking hell.

He’s so tight I see stars.

I give him time, sliding in and out with deliberate care. My hands grip his hips, my forehead pressed to his as he adjusts. We breathe together. Move together.

This isn’t just fucking.

This is us.

When I finally bottom out—chest pressed to his, legs tangled, mouths inches apart—we freeze. Eyes locked.

And then I start to move.

Slow. Deep. Intentional.

“You feel that?” I growl against his mouth. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

Grant arches, mouth falling open in a perfect cry.

“This cock was made to ruin you. To stretch this sweet hole open and keep it open. Every inch of me inside you until you can’t fucking breathe.”

He moans—high, broken, perfect.

“I’m gonna fuck you senseless, Lucciolina. Gonna make you forget your name. Gonna fill you so full of my cum, it’ll be leaking out of you for days.”

He claws at my back, eyes rolling as I drive into him over and over.

“You love it, don’t you? Love being my little fuck toy. Love knowing I own this body now. No one else gets to touch. No one else gets this.”

“Dante—oh fuck—yes,” he cries, legs tightening around me.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of me. Be a good boy and take what I’m giving you.”

I grab the headboard, knuckles white, using it to pound into his tight, perfect fucking ass—knowing he’s ruining me as much as I’m ruining him.

And when we come—it’s chaos.

There’s nothing soft about it. No muffled sounds or quiet sighs.

We shout.

We curse.

We break.

He clenches around me as he spills between us, and I drive deep—grinding in—filling him with everything I have.

My name on his lips.

His name on mine.

And nothing between us at all.

Except the love we finally get to live.

* ? Christ, so good.

* ? “Yes, my love.”