Page 48 of Red Hot Harmony

It was exactly like that—with his body on top of mine and his sweat slicking all over me—when I climaxed the first time, screaming his name along with some obscenities that God forbid anyone would ever hear from me.

“You’re really cute when you curse.” Dante smiled into my shoulder, holding me close.

I was spent, my legs and arms an absolute mess, like jelly.

He rubbed his chin against my chest and licked my nipple, his length still inside me, thick and hard.

We lay like this, damp and tangled for a little while, trying to catch our breaths.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed the corner of my lips and extracted himself from my embrace to rest on his side, head propped on his hand, eyes dark and wild.

“I can see that.” Not quite satisfied yet, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his cock. “Did you bring enough condoms?”

“You bet.”

I ran my hand up and down, the rubber beneath my touch rolling.

There was a groan followed by another sound, much deeper and much more primal.

I gently pushed him down onto his back and positioned myself between his legs. In this light that wasn’t a light at all but delicious darkness, he looked like sin incarnate. Everything from the fine expanse of his chest to the enigmatic designs scattered across his olive skin made me want to stare at him and study him until dawn.

“What are you doing, woman?” Dante gasped as I wrapped my hand around his cock and began to work him.

“What does it look like?”

He lifted his head for a second and glanced at me, his lashes trembling. “Let me take this off.” He got rid of the condom, sending it somewhere to the floor, and, oddly, this detail didn’t bother me. It seemed fitting, considering who I was having sex with. My mind conjured a series of debauched images that didn’t match the leisured, unhurried, and meticulous act that was happening between us now.

“That makes it so much easier to return the favor.” I licked my lips, preparing myself, then lowered my head and took him into my mouth.

His hips jerked and a rough sound came from his chest. He grabbed at the sheets at first, but then reached for my head and caressed it, guided the rhythm.

I didn’t have a whole lot of experience in giving a world-famous rock star-quality blow job, but the way he reacted—the moans he made—told me he was enjoying it and I was doing just fine.

He felt solid and hot, and salty precum coated the back of my throat as I continued to suck him, my sole mission to make him climax.

“Mama,” he rasped out after a while, his fingers gliding across the side of my face.

I lifted my head, my palm still wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Am I not doing it right?” Although I was certain I had the basics down, who knew what happened behind closed doors of a hotel room with a spoiled rock star. Maybe there were things the man liked that I wasn’t aware of.

“Fuck no.” Dante was panting. “You’re amazing... This is amazing. I just—” The darkness swallowed his words abruptly. There was only the fall and the rise of his chest, the flex of his muscles, the glistening of the sweat smearing his neck and forehead. “Come here.” He nudged me up to face him, then stretched his arm out to fish another condom from the nightstand drawer. His other hand rested on the small of my back, thumb pressed firmly against my ass.

“What’s wrong?” I cupped his cheek and waited for an answer.

He swallowed, his throat rolling, then closed his eyes. “Things might be a little off-kilter...after—” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“They don’t feel off-kilter to me.” If anything, he seemed very functional. And very hard too. Currently pressing against my stomach. Begging to be relieved.

“It used to be easier,” he confessed, now looking directly into my eyes. “To come.” Then added quickly, as if not to offend my skills, “It has nothing to do with your blow job. You’re great.” He reached for an errant strand of hair and pushed it behind my ear, a gesture that somehow seemed more intimate than him being inside me.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve been with a woman...since...the stroke.” A pause. He must have realized the meaning behind what he said and tried to correct himself. “I’m sorry. That didn’t sound right. You’re not just a woman. You’re...not.”

I sensed there was more but chose not to make him uncomfortable. He wasn’t just any man for me either. He was something else. I simply wasn’t sure how to describe the nature of our relationship...yet.

Instead, I slid my hand between our bodies, my fist closing around his length. “For what it’s worth, this is some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

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