Page 142 of Dangerous King
"Fuck, you have the most beautiful tits," he groans, leaning forward and taking one nipple into his mouth, while his large hand covers my other breast. Then he begins to suck and nip at one nipple, while his fingers pull on the other, twirling the delicate pearl until I moan. The ache in my pussy spreads deep into my core.
"You want it, don't you, Gattina?"
I nod fast, breath sobbing from my lips. His hand moves lower, to my panties. He teases—God, he teases—thumb circling just where I ache, but always out of reach, until I'm pleading without words, grinding back against him. "All this wet for me? If I askyou to come, you'll soak my cock, won't you? Maybe I should make you say it out loud."
My voice belongs to a stranger: "Ah fuck, yes, please?—"
His fingers brush over my clit through the lacy panties. The first press of his thumb to my clit makes me whimper, an edge of pain in his touch as he rubs slow, dirty circles.
"So wet for me already," he mutters in my ear, and there's so much pride in it, the shiver turns to a jolt that nearly buckles my knees. He works my pussy with two thick fingers, gathering the dripping mess and smearing it over my clit until the obscene sounds are almost louder than my moans.
"Listen to that, Gattina." He jams his fingers inside me—fast, deep, relentless. Instinct makes my hips snap back to meet his hand. "You'll come just from this, won't you?"
He's still holding my hands pinned up high above my head; my knees are so weak, he is all but supporting my weight. "I—" The world pinholes to a single, seismic ache, and I almost scream, "Please, Enrico, please, I need you?—"
"Not yet," he warns, and the fingers vanish, leaving me dizzy with need. I gasp in protest, but he only licks the taste from his knuckles, eyes hooded with dark intent. "God, look at you. What a beautiful mess you are."
His eyes skim my bared, heaving breasts and the bunched-up skirt over my hips. His fingers hook into my panties, and he pulls. I gasp at the friction of the material against my pussy. With a twang, the material rips, and he discards it, leaving me bare. My needy lower body gyrates against him, and he presses in close, heavy cock rutting against me, and his hand comes up to grip my jaw, forcing me to face the mirror above the dresser.
"Look," he orders, his voice like velvet-wrapped steel. "You're exactly what I want. Every time you melt for me, every time you break. No one else gets this. No one else gets you."
He rocks his hips against me, and a sob escapes me from the need to have him inside me. Keeping my hands up, he unzips his fly one-handedly. The sound is so loud, I clench around nothing. His hand returns to my hip, his thumb digs in so deep I'm sure it'll leave a bruise. Not that I care. I want this. All of it. I want his muscular strength to overwhelm me, to take me every which way he pleases.
"You're going to take every inch, Piccolina," he says, and then the blunt head of his cock is at my entrance, splitting me open with a single, brutal thrust. I nearly collapse, but he holds me up, pinned between his body and the cold wood.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he groans, but he's not gentle, not even trying. He pounds into me, faster, harder, until my whole world consists of nothing but the slap of skin and the filthy things he whispers into my ear, "Your tight little cunt was made just for me."
I can't answer. I'm too close. The edge slopes up, sharp and punishing, and my nails dig furrows into the wood. I want to last. I want to give him the show he's demanding. But another slam of his hips and I'm gone. I'm shaking all over, eyes wet, my body clenching and fluttering around him so hard, I sob his name.
"That's it, scream for me, let them all hear," he says, and then he's coming too, with a raw, guttural sound that detonates in my chest. He holds us together like that, both shaking, neither of us saying anything for a long minute, just breathing.
When he finally lets go of my arms, my legs don't work right, and he has to catch me before I slide to the floor.
"Careful," he says, voice tinged with pride and with something oddly vulnerable. "Don't want you limping to dinner. People might talk."
I laugh, weak and breathless. If I could, I'd punch him for that. Instead, I cling to his shirt and bury my face in his neck, anchoring myself in the warm, prickling thump of his pulse.
"I could devour you whole," he murmurs, "and still never get enough."
One week later…
We have to be careful to plan our meetings without making Edoardo suspicious, and a strip club is just the right place. Nobody would think twice about why we are in here, even though it's just a front. The private room we booked is free of strippers. Toni has the hots for his hostage, I'm about to be married, and Stephano… well, Stephano is Stephano. If it doesn't have wires, thirty thousand terabytes of storage, and a mouse, he's not interested.
To keep up appearances, the girls are in the anteroom, playing poker with each other. They're being well compensated and won't say a word about what'snothappened in here.
The room smells of aged whiskey, sex, and tension. Stephano leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching the empty pole in the center, while Toni pours himself two fingers of Blue Label. I'm the only one who took a seat, tired but wired, the weight of the last few weeks pounding in my temples like a war drum.
"But Marcello's stable?" I ask Toni, who went to the hospital this morning to see him.
Toni takes a seat too, leans back in his chair, and shakes his head. "You should've seen him. A head wound so bad they had to remove part of his skull, and a couple of other hits on his hip and leg on top of it. The doctors said it was a miracle he even made it through the night."
My jaw tightens. "Casimo wanted to make sure he didn't."
"Yeah, well, he almost succeeded. They've got him in a medically induced coma for now," Toni continues. "Because of his brain swelling. But the nurse they assigned to him?" He makes a dramatic gesture. "Violet something? She's a looker and is glued to his side."
Stephano arches a brow. "Marcello's still unconscious, and he's already pulling in the hot ones?"
Toni smirks faintly. "Her eyes only track him. And trust me, she's not there for the paycheck."
