Page 63 of Thorns of Silence
My hands around his nape, I tugged him closer, gripping the strands of his hair and feeling his feral growl vibrate against my mouth.
In a swift movement, he freed his cock and pushed the crown against my clit. My head fell back against the wall while every inch of me was on fire. I might be doing this for revenge, but my body wanted him. The evidence of my arousal dripped between my thighs.
He pushed his cock against my entrance. Once. Twice. Then, without any warning, he thrust inside me, filling me to the hilt. My back arched off the wall and a powerful shudder ripped through me.
I hooked my legs around his sculpted waist, giving him a better angle, and he rammed into me with deep, hard strokes. He released one of my ass cheeks and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You’re mine.” God, the world titled on its axis as I bounced on his cock, every second of it feeling like the sweetest sin. “You feel it?” His hand came down to my breasts, kneading them, coddling them, tugging on my nipples. “Your pussy’s milking my cock like a good girl.”
I was unable to keep up with the rhythm as he thrust into me like a madman. He pulled out all the way to the tip only to slam back in, hitting my G-spot and making me cry out. His lips moved like he was grunting and talking, but I was no longer able to focus on them as he drove into me with renewed fervor.
Then he stilled, and I blinked in confusion as he slid his hand up past my breasts and wrapped it around my throat. My eyes met his, each one a deep pool of lust and something feral.
“Say it again.”
I blinked in confusion, my tongue darting out to lick my lips. His hips moved with a shallow thrust. And another.Oh my God! Yes, yes, yes.I watched him as he resumed fucking me through hooded eyes, but then he stopped again and I let out a frustrated whimper.
“Say it again,” he ordered.
“What?” I mouthed, my one hand still gripping the hair on his nape.
“My name. Say it.” He thrust into me roughly and his name tore from my lips, the vibration in my throat unaccustomed to speaking. “That’s my girl. Don’t forget who fucks you.”
Then he drove into me again and again, his name a chant on my lips. The more I called out, the faster and rougher he fucked, sending me into oblivion. And I loved it.
His hand around my neck squeezed, the oxygen supply dimming as he drove into me. He owned every inch of me, just as he did two years ago. The less air I breathed, the tighter I strangled his cock. His groans vibrated through me, his ruthless rhythm never easing.
I moaned, my lips chanting his name. My core clenched, and when he hit my secret spot again, I came so hard, black spots swam in my vision and I felt like I might pass out.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I watched this man fuck me with unforgiving thrusts. Like he needed me. Like he owned me, and that was scary. I should have demanded he stop, but I couldn’t. I tried to remember my purpose for being here, in this club, but all thoughts were chased away by the feel of him sliding between my legs.
I was like an addict when it came to him. I wanted to take more of him, give him everything. The veins on his neck pulsed and I leaned forward, licking his skin and tasting him. He went on and on fucking me, awakening my pleasure once more.
Just when I thought he was about to come, he swapped positions. He maneuvered me so I was bent over the sofa, my ass in the air, as he continued to thrust into me. Lust spread through me, my hands holding on to the armrest for dear life and my legs spread as I was bared to him.
I lifted my eyes and caught our reflection in the large mirror opposite the couch. The disparity didn’t escape me. I was naked and exposed, but he wasn’t. My hair was tousled. My cheeks were flushed. My lips swollen and my breasts hung heavy and full. But it was the image of Dante behind me that stole my breath.
His face was carved with raw lust as he looked atme. He slammed into me hard, pushing the couch forward. His thrusts picked up into a punishing rhythm, my hips draped over the armrest. I buried my face in the cushions, my nipples scraping against the fabric as he fucked me viciously. But then his strong fingers wrapped around my strands, fisting my hair and tugging my head back until I was half upright. I turned my head to the side, meeting his lips.
His other hand closed around my throat. He fucked me ruthlessly, pounding into me as the couch squeaked across the floor. Every savage thrust pushed me higher, drawing out illicit and primal pleasure. His mouth on mine, we orgasmed together, his warm seed spurting inside me. He shuddered against my back while I trembled and then his arms wrapped around me, always so possessive.
I expected him to pull out of me, but he didn’t. Instead, he cocooned me in his embrace while his lips skimmed my nape, each kiss sending another shudder through me.
And all the while a million thoughts rushed through my brain. The loudest one was mocking me.You’re still in love with him.
So I pushed him away, trying to get my bearings. Dante pulled out of me and I went to move, he signed, “Don’t.”
I froze, then watched him as he reached for some tissues and cleaned my thighs, his touch achingly gentle. Discarding the tissues carelessly, he turned me over so we were facing each other.
He was still dressed. I was completely naked, aside from my heels. He was concealed, and I was exposed. Resilient and vulnerable.
Reaching for the discarded bra and dress, he helped me put it back on. I smoothed it down while Dante combed his thick, veiny fingers through my hair. When I ignored him, he lifted my chin with his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowed and jaw set.
“What’s the matter?”
I wanted to say so many things.
