Page 135 of Dance of Deception

His hand moves, gripping my hip, dragging his cock against me. His skin is hot, his muscles taut, flexing and grinding so perfectly I can barely breathe.

“You’re somessyfor me,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over my throat. “So fucking greedy. Look at you, baby—all dripping and desperate. You need this, don’t you.”

I nod, unable to form words, my nails digging into his shoulders.

His chuckle is low, knowing. “Such a good girl.”

Then—he slides in.

I cry out, my hands fisting his hair, my body stretching,taking.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He slams into me, his grip unforgiving, merciless…perfect.

“Take it,” he grunts, his breath hot against my ear. “Take every inch of this thick fucking dick, baby. This ismyfucking pussy. It belongs to me, and me alone.” I cry out as he rams harder into me, grinding so deep that my eyes roll back.

“That goes for you, too, little dancer,” he groans, thrusting harder. “You want to touch this pussy? You want to rub your greedy little clit and make yourself come?”

Carmine fucks harder into me, his massive cock stretching me to my limit as I drip all over him.

“Then you’ll have to get on your knees and ask my permission first,” he snarls. “Because this is my fucking pussy now. Not yours.Mine. Now—show me how muchmyfucking pussy needs my cock.”

Sweet. Fucking.God.

My body yields, welcomes him even deeper, and his groan is pure, feral possession. He grips my thighs, spreading them wider, watching where we’re joined with dark, ravenous hunger.

“Look at you, baby. Taking me like you were fucking made for it.”

I moan shamelessly, my head tipping back against the pillows. But his fingers wrap around my throat, tilting my chin down, forcing my gaze to his.

“Uh-uh,” he growls. “Eyes on me.”

I shudder, blinking at him through the haze of pleasure. His sharp blue eyes are so dark, like midnight and malice. Unhinged, all-consuming.

His hands flex, his fingers pressing against my jaw. “That’s it, baby. Don’t ever hide from me.”

He thrusts deeper, harder, ripping another moaning cry from my throat.

“That’s my fucking good girl,” he growls. “So fucking perfect.”

His hands hold my hips, dragging me against him, using my body exactly the way he wants.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands.

I can’t answer. Can’t do anything but take his cock.

His hand moves between us, stroking, teasing, pushing me higher as he rolls and pinches my clit.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say it, or I won’t let you come.”

I sob, already breaking apart.

“Yours,” I gasp. “Yours!”

His groan is pure fucking victory.

He slams his mouth to mine, swallowing every cry, every breath, every single piece of me.

“So fucking perfect, baby. You weremadefor my fucking cock. I want to fuck you against the wall of the Louvre like the goddamn masterpiece you are.”

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