Page 33 of Ivory Crown

My orgasm hit me with all the force of a freight train, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through me. My fingers did not stop their relentless assault on my swollen bundle of nerves, prolonging my climax until I was reduced to a moaning, trembling mess.

…And my legs gave in, and I wasn’t able to hold myself up any longer.

I collapsed onto Dante’s face. I tried to move off, but he held me steady with his strong hands, gripping onto my thighs to keep me in place above him. A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, but I was really worried I was strangling him, cutting off his breathing.

“Relax, Jade,” Dante’s voice rumbled from beneath me, his hands gripping my thighs even tighter. “Your sweet little pussy isn’t going to suffocate me.”

His wicked words sent a fresh wave of arousal through my already oversensitive body. Dante’s audacity – the way he reveled in our shared debauchery – was intoxicating in a way I never could have imagined.

But he stuck his tongue out and licked my pussy as his grip around his cock quickened, his hips lifting off the bed as he thrust into his hand, my panties still wrapped around his fingers. His tongue delved into me, gathering my arousal on its tip before withdrawing again.

The second he tasted me, his body trembled in response, pleasure radiating from him like a shockwave.

“That’s it...drench me,” he rasped out from beneath me, each word punctuated by a hard thrust into his hand. His voice was raw and desperate as he neared the edge.

I could feel Dante’s body tightening beneath me, every muscle straining as he neared his climax.

I could feel Dante’s body tightening beneath me, every muscle straining as he neared his climax. I could hardly make out what he was saying—he might have said I wasn’t suffocating him but it definitely felt like I was—but I got bits of it, and when he wasn’t speaking, he was lapping at my pussy as if he was drinking from a water fountain.

And then suddenly, his grip on my thighs tightened, his body tensed beneath me. With a hoarse cry, Dante came undone, his release spurting onto the panties still wrapped around his fist. His fingers dug into the plush flesh of my thighs and I gasped at the pain-pleasure of it, adding to the post-orgasmic haze that still lingered in my brain.

“Dante...” I whimpered, feeling the tremors of another orgasm building within me in reaction to his movements and the warm wetness covering my panties. My hips bucked against his face as he lapped at me hungrily, pushing me to another climax.

I felt him groan against me, still riding out the aftershocks of his own orgasm, his body shaking beneath me just as much as mine was shaking above him.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, Dante’s tongue stilled. His breaths were shuddering from beneath me and with every exhale he blew onto my overly sensitive clit, making my body jolt in response.

“Remember,” he breathed out between shuddering breaths, “This panties... this moment... You’re going to wear them all night tonight. And then, fuck, I’ll come on another pair tomorrow morning so you have a fresh pair to wear.”

He guided me down slightly so I was straddling his mouth but not his nose—which, good—and then he flicked his tongue against my clit again, lightly this time.

“Dante!” I yelped, my body jerking at the unexpected sensation. I was already oversensitive, my body humming in the aftermath of our shared pleasure. But, as always, Dante seemed to know exactly what I could take.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against me, his voice vibrating through my oversensitive flesh in a way that made me gasp. “Taking so much for me.”

“Such a shame your pussy is empty right now when I could be filling it,” he said. “But hey. Next time. You got your break, didn’t you?”

I could only nod, my mind thoroughly scrambled from all the pleasure. My body was still shaking even as his grip around my thighs loosened.

“You can get off me now,” Dante murmured, sounding amused as his hands slid along my thighs and down to my ass, giving one cheek a playful spank. I yelped at the sudden sting, jumping away from him in surprise. He laughed at my reaction, sitting up to run a hand through his disheveled hair.

Despite everything, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Even in our most intimate moments, Dante’s humor added an unexpected lightness that I found endearing.

“To be clear,” he said as I sank into the soft mattress. “Sitting on my face and straddling my face like that counts as begging me to touch you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said.

He chuckled again, a warm, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver of arousal down my spine. I threw a pillow at him and he caught it with ease, grinning broadly at me. “It absolutely does,” he asserted firmly. “And you know what? I like when you beg.”

I felt my cheeks flush with both embarrassment and arousal as I argued back weakly, “I did not beg, Dante.”

“Pretty sure you did.”

“This argument is childish,” I said.

“Maybe. But you’re only giving up because I’m right.”

I rolled my eyes, looking away from him. But the worst part was that he was right.

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