Page 44 of Violent Little Thing

Tr(eat) You Right

ADONIS

T he valley between Delilah’s legs is my favorite place to visit. Especially when the views are this immaculate.

Delilah is writhing.

Spread out on top of the piano.

Back arched.

Mouth open.

Fingers curled around my locs.

The picture of perfection.

My favorite motivation.

As soon as she walked in, I picked her up, laid her out on top of the piano and found the button to her denim shorts. She bucked beneath me almost immediately and hasn’t stopped moaning my name since I dropped the first kiss on the inside of her thigh.

Her tight hole glistens with the evidence of her arousal and contracts around nothing every time I pull away to admire her swollen clit .

Pressing my thumb against her wetness, I lazily pass my fingertip back and forth, smiling at the sounds wrestling themselves free from her throat.

“I’m not stopping until you come again, baby.”

“Adonis,” she pleads, hips lifted and rolling to keep up with the stroking of my thumb.

“That’s right, my name is the only one I want to hear.” I slide my fingers through her folds massaging her clit. “Tell me it’s mine.”

“Unh.”

“Nah, that don’t sound right. Tell me it’s mine, Delilah.” I lower my mouth to her center and kiss her, my lips writing my devotion on every dripping inch of her sex.

Once.

Twice.

I’ll do it a million times if that’s what she needs.

Nobody tastes better than Delilah.

And nobody sounds better crying my name.

I take my time using my tongue and fingers to stroke her.

“First date.” Lick. “First kiss.” Stroke. “First fuck.” Kiss. “First nut.” I pull away and run my fingers up and down her entrance. “First everything , Delilah. All of it belongs to me because you belong to me.”

I still haven’t been inside of her. I’ve been too busy making her come every other way first.

On my lap.

On my fingers.

On my tongue.

Making her come on my dick one day is a given, but not something I’m rushing. All of this is new for her, and I want her to savor it .

To get used to a man touching her to bring her pleasure instead of pain.

Right now, the only thing I want her to think about when she comes for me is how fucking good I make her feel and when I’m going to do it again.

When she’s ready, I’ll take my time stretching her out on my dick.

But the way my erection strains against my zipper makes me wrap my tongue around her clit and suck until she’s not making sense.

“Ah…” It sounds like she’s going to say my name but it’s a broken, choked sound instead.

“You moan so pretty, Delilah.”

Another one blankets the air.

“Your pussy is too pretty not to have my mouth on it, baby. I love tasting you come for me.”

“Adonissss.” I crave the way she hisses out the ending of my name before bowing her back.

Her legs are spread wider, so my head dives deeper.

“Adonis, I’m going to pass out,” she whimpers. “I can’t take anymore.”

“You passed out from me eating you before?”

“No.” It’s a whisper. A tired one as her hand goes limp against my scalp and her hips slow to a calmer pace. “But I will this time.”

I fucking love her dramatic ass.

“Why you still fucking my face then?”

“Because I don’t want it to stop.”

When I hum against her, she snakes her legs around my head, holding me in place.

It’s hard to draw my next breath and it’s the best problem I’ve had all day.

I taste .

And suck.

And moan.

And kiss.

Over and over.

Until Delilah’s legs shake and she comes all over my face for the second time since I called her up here.

Her legs go limp around my shoulders, and I come up for air, closing my arms around her so I can pull her off the piano.

When her legs are locked at my waist, I kiss her.

Slowly.

Deeply.

Hungrily sharing the taste of her on my tongue. Then her tongue is in my mouth, seeking the taste on her own, demanding it while she wraps herself around me.

My dick aches, swollen and pushing against my slacks while Delilah leans into the kiss.

Her ass rubs against my hardness, and we sigh at the same time, the movement sending different sensations coursing through us.

I can stand here and let her grind on me until we both come. Or I can walk us upstairs, get us showered and in bed because I know she won’t be able to walk if I keep fucking around.

I go with the second option, kissing her neck with each stair I climb.

The dazed expression on Delilah’s face keeps a smile on my lips throughout the whole shower.

She leans into me without thinking and I soak that shit up because of how long I wanted this.

Kissing me, she grips my length with her fingers and walks us back until my back is pressed against the tiled wall.

“Fuck…”

My groan fuels her and before I know it, her hand is wrapped around me, stroking while she pushes her tongue into my mouth.

I have to bend down to keep our lips connected and I don’t care.

“Does that feel good?”

The earnestness in her throaty voice.

The water dancing along her lashes.

The steady pressure of her hand while I try to force a real word past my lips.

It’s the first time in two weeks she’s tried to make me come and I’m already about to bust in her hand.

Oh, fuck.

It would be embarrassing if Delilah wasn’t Delilah. But it’s because she is that I bite my bottom lip and fuck into her hand with a whimper.

This wasn’t supposed to be about me. I want to make her come. Put her to bed. Hold her all night.

But…now.

“Ah, shit,” I groan when she abandons everything else and focuses on the tugging motion, jerking the head of my dick toward her stomach.

I’m close.

So fucking close.

And she’s not stopping.

Her kisses.

Her hands.

Her moans mixing with mine.

I come with a guttural sound and pick her up, forcing her hands to fall away from me as my cum hits my thighs and the shower floor.

“I always wondered how you would sound,” she whispers, kissing me, teasing me through it .

“I don’t know what the fuck to do with you, menace.”

My phone rings in the middle of the night, pulling me out of my sleep.

It takes everything for me to roll away from Delilah and leave her head resting on a pillow instead of my chest.

When I crack one eye open, the angry glare of my alarm clock tells me it’s three o’clock.

Squinting, I sit up because I know Victor wouldn’t be calling me if it’s not an emergency. I swipe the screen without looking at it, prepared to hear his voice.

“Yeah?”

“Good morning, Adonis.”

I blink as if it’s going to change the voice in my ear to one I want to hear. Looking over my shoulder, I make sure Delilah is still sleeping and get up to walk into the hall.

“Chiara, it’s three o’clock in the damn morning.”

A nonchalant huff fills the line. “It’s nine where I am, relax .”

Counting down from five doesn’t work. So I count down from ten.

And my voice is still tight when I ask, “What you want?”

“I’m ready to talk.”

“What the fuck about?”

My mind and body are still stuck between sleep and awake. I want to be back in bed with Delilah. This is the first and last time I’m leaving her in bed to deal with another woman. But the next thing Chiara says grips my attention and I abandon my aggravated train of thought.

“Calling off our engagement.”