Page 77 of Ruthless Desire

But it's not enough–and I don’t think it will ever be enough.

My orgasm is a pale shadow, a firefly glow against the supernova Dante's ignited inside me. I need more, need everything. Need to be split and remade and devoured until nothing remains but the taste of his name on my tongue.

"Please," I whimper, nails scrabbling against the silk of his shirt. "Please, Take me- "

"I know what you want," he growls, the words cutting me to the quick. "I know exactly what you need, and I'm going to give it to you."

I kinda love being manhandled when Dante spins me around, pressing me against the rough trunk, the ancient wood biting into my palms, as unforgiving as the man poised to claim me. The sound of his belt unclasping, followed by the rustle of fabric...

Then, the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, the suddenness of it making me tense despite myself. I quickly mask the flicker of fear with a smooth arch of my spine, willing my body to relax.

“Breathe, solnyshko,” Dante murmurs, his touch softening for a fleeting moment. “Let me in. You know you can take it—let me fill all those aching, empty spaces inside you; let me make you whole.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, my heart a wild creature throwing itself against the cage of my ribs. It's futile. He's already inside me, has been since that first searing glance across a blood-spattered gallery.

I am a house gutted by flame, and he is all that will ever dwell within my charred walls.

Dante's thrusts falter at my hesitation, and the moment stretches, taut with the weight of his unspoken demand. His hand releases my hair only to snake around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off the whimper caught in my throat.

I almost beg when he pulls out, leaving me empty, my body keening at the sudden loss. My eyes snap open, meeting his in the dim light. His gaze is feral, darkened with a need that borders on obsession.

Still…Dantee doesn’t move, doesn’t blink—just stares down at me, his fingers tightening incrementally around my neck, a silent warning. He won’t fuck me again until I give him what he wants.

The realization sends a shiver down my spine, adding to the exquisite feeling twisting low in my belly.

"Solnyshko," Dante growls, the command vibrating through his chest and into mine, every word laced with possessive fury.

The words burn as they leave my lips, each one a piece of myself I’m surrendering to him, and only him. "I'm—I'm yours," I gasp out, each syllable tearing at my soul. "Made for you, only for you, fuck—"

A demonic sound in the form of a roar erupts from him as he drives into me with brutal force, his hand coming down hard on my ass in a ringing slap. The sting reverberates through my body, pushing me closer to the edge, my walls clamping down around him like a vice.

"Again," he demands, punctuating the command with another stinging blow. "Say it again, like you fucking mean it."

"Yours!" I cry out, tears spilling over, the confession branding my soul, leaving me raw and bleeding for his dark desire. "I belong to you, Dante. Always. Fucking. Yours!"

A strangled grunt escapes him, his thrusts turning frenzied, erratic. I can feel him pulsing inside me - swelling as his dick twitches - ready to flood me with his release.

"Fuck, Natalie," he rasps, the words steeped in dark wonder. "My perfect whore, my twisted queen. Come for me, like a good girl. Crown my cock like you were born to."

His fingers find my clit, and that's all it takes. I detonate with a scream, my body spasming as I convulse around his plundering length. Dante stiffens behind me, following me into oblivion with a guttural moan, his heat erupting deep in my trembling core.

We stay like that, shaking, panting, locked together in the aftermath. When he finally slips free, I whimper at the loss, bereft without his searing presence inside me.

Dante chuckles darkly, smoothing a proprietary hand over the curve of my ass.

"Look at you," he muses, fingers delving between my thighs, gathering the sticky evidence of our coupling. "Fucked out and dripping with my cum. The perfect canvas for my twisted desires."

His eyes don't leave mine as paints my inner thighs with our mingled release—an artist leaving his signature—a perverse benediction. I shudder, humiliation and illicit heat coursing through my overstimulated nerves.

With a wicked grin, he brings his coated fingers to my lips. "Taste us," he commands, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

I part my lips, taking his fingers into my mouth, tasting the mingled essence of our sin. The act is filthy, depraved—and I crave every second of it. He watches me with burning eyes, then slowly withdraws his fingers, licking them clean, savoring our shared corruption.

What has he made of me, that I could crave such brazen debasement?

"I'll never be free of you, will I?" The question is soft, plaintive, a dove loosed into the closing night.

Dante turns me to face him, his expression unreadable in the deepening shadows. "No, solnyshko. You won't. You're mine now, in every way that matters. Best accept it, embrace it. Fighting will only make the fall that much sweeter in the end."

---