Page 52 of Hearts Of Darkness

“Yes,” I whisper. “You’re my devil, Dante, and you’re tempting me into your darkness.”

“Then you’re an angel burning me up with your light. I want to stake a claim over every part of you. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass…” He pushes me against the wall and slides the palms of his hands up the back of my thighs, gathering up my dress and hooking his thumbs into the lace of my panties. “How many men have you been with, beside me?”

“Two.” I throw my head back as he trails hot, wet kisses across my exposed throat, administering pleasure to the marks left by his fingertips.

“They’re dead already.”

He silences my protestations with a possessive kiss, and I feel my panties disintegrate in his hands. Will I ever own an item of clothing that this man doesn’t rip from my body?

“Turn around,” he orders. I feel my dress being pulled up further around my hips, exposing me from the waist down. “That’s quite a sight.” I hear him whistle, before he’s running his hand over my naked ass cheek. “Now put your hands on the wall in front of you.”

Dark delights inflame my senses. I press my palms into the rough stone, my body aching with need as he traces a finger from the middle of my spine, down through the crease of my ass before driving two fingers inside of me from behind. My sex convulses at this rough intrusion, and it’s coupled with his sharp intake of breath.

“So wet for me. I think we can work with this.”

He removes his fingers and retraces his path, pausing over the darkest, most forbidden of places and gently massaging my wetness into the soft skin there. I try to pull away, and he reprimands me with a sharp smack. “Don’t move unless I say so.”

“But I don’t—”

“Hush,” he chides. “I’m not planning on hurting you, but I will if you don’t listen to me.” His finger is becoming more insistent.

“But I’ve never—”

“Trust me.”

I can’t. He’s too big, and I’m starting to panic. It feels so good, though. So damn illicit…

I find myself quickly adapting to this new sensation. At the same time, my body yields to him, and he slides his finger all the way into me. I cry out in surprise and pain, his short nail scratching at my tender insides.

“Accept it,” he snarls. “The pain will soon turn to pleasure.”

Is he fucking kidding me?The burn is so intense, it’s forcing tears to my eyes. But he’s right. The more he works me like this, the more my body seems to respond.

He reaches around with his other hand to circle my clit. Every nerve feels conquered and swollen, yet strangely satisfied. One finger becomes two—stretching, pleasing, delving into my wetness, and then reapplying—until I feel something larger pushing at me there.

“Dante, no!” I cry, panicking again. I try to twist away, but I’m being pinned into place by his hands and his cock.

“Relax,” he hisses, breaching my final resistance, working himself into me, inch by inch.

It’s more tearing, more burning… The pain is clawing at my insides and leaving bloody weals. I want to scream at him to stop, but then his fingers start circling my clit again, and I end up begging for everything instead.

“You feel too good,mi alma. Too fucking good.”

I can only concentrate on the pleasure of his fingers and the searing pain of his penetration, but even that is starting to subside. I’m spiraling higher and higher until all sense and reason goes to hell. Only then does he start to move, grinding into my ass with those long, slow, devastating strokes of his.

He quickly finds his release, his cock jerking and lengthening as we collapse against the wall together. My head is turned to the side, my cheek pressed tight against the cool stone. His forehead is digging into my shoulder, heating my bare skin with his ragged breath. He’s still lodged inside me—still as hard as stone.

“What a suitable place to break you in, my angel,” he muses, withdrawing slowly.

I spin around to glare at him. In the gloom of the stall, he looks so intimidating, so handsome, so damn seductive. But he’s my tempter. My bad influence. A man intent on pushing me right to my limits, over and over again.

“That was too much, Dante.”

“I give you nothing you can’t handle.” He crouches down in front of me to plant a lingering kiss at the apex of my thighs, inhaling deeply at the same time. “I owe you more pleasure. You have a body that demands to be worshipped.”

He hooks my leg over his shoulder, opening me up wide to him, and then creams a hard line with his tongue all the way from the base of my perineum up to the tip of my sex. I jump back as if branded, my shoulder blades smacking against the wall. I’m still aching and sensitive from my earlier orgasm, and he knows it.

“Hold still.” He places two firm hands on my hips and repeats his unforgiving action. “You taste divine, my angel,” he says with a growl, nipping and rotating, teasing and testing.

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