Page 13 of Pretty Dark Vows

“Oh god, yes,” I pant as soon as I have air again.

“Nah. I told you, it’s just Dante.” He reaches around to palm my pussy. “Say it.”

I roll my hips against his hand, hoping he’ll give me more pressure, but he doesn’t. A frustrated groan gets stuck in my throat. “Asshole.”

He laughs, removing his hand entirely, and I almost smile. He’s clearly enjoying making me desperate for him, and despite the fact that I’m not sure how much longer I can take being edged like this, I like it too.

“Fine,” I relent, craning my neck to narrow my eyes at him. “Dante.”

“That’s a good girl.” He grins savagely, rewarding me by rubbing my clit through my pants, hard and fast enough that he could almost push me over the peak just like this.

“Fuck, fuck,fuck. Right there. Don’t stop.”

I moan, planting my hands on the wall and resting my forehead against it as he gets me close. I’ve forgotten everything else about tonight—the great tips I made, the altercation with Musclehead, all of it. The only thing that exists is the scent and feel of the man behind me, his deep voice and confident touch, like he’s all my dirtiest fantasies come to life.

“Not such a princess now, are you, wild thing?” he murmurs, dark laughter in his voice. He pushes my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck, still working me over with those rough, demanding, talented fingers of his. “You’re wet for me, I can smell it.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck and draws in a long breath. “I can feel it.” He drags his fingers up and down the front of my pants, right over my pussy, keeping me right on the edge. “You’re soaked right through.”

I whine before I can stop myself. He’s right. I am. For him.

For that thick cock he keeps grinding against my ass.

I push against the contact between us, going up on my toes and working myself against his fingers, my own fingers splaying over the wall as I try to get him to give me what I really need.

Dante chuckles, the low, dirty sound stroking me all over. “You’re a good fucking dancer, princess. Watching you on stage had me a lot more distracted than I should’ve been. Butthis? Watching you ride my hand is a thousand times better than watching you ride that pole.”

“I was… imagining it was your cock,” I whimper, the truth pulled out of me before I can stop it.

“Fucking hell.”

His hand stops moving for a moment, his forehead resting against the back of my head as if he’s trying to get control of himself. When his fingers move again, they expertly pop my pants open and reach inside. He slides his hand under the scrap of material covering my pussy, and a groan rumbles in his chest.

“You’re shaved,” he growls, sliding his fingers up and down my slick folds before pushing one inside me. “Goddamn, that’s fucking hot.”

He adds a second finger and starts fucking me with them. Not deep enough at this angle, but hard and fast enough to be pretty damn close to what I need.

“Dante,” I breathe, liquid arousal pooling low in my belly.

“You’re so damn wet for me,” he whispers in my ear, still working his fingers in and out of me. “So fucking tight. You’re going to feel incredible on my cock.”

His words go right to my clit, making it throb against the heel of his hand. I’ve never been with a guy whose voice alone—and the filthy things he says—could get me off all on their own, but between his touch and the things he keeps murmuring in my ear, he’s got me balancing on a knife’s edge of pleasure, desperate to hurl myself over to the other side.

“Please!” It bursts out of me. “I can’t… fuck. Just… make me come. Please.”

“How could I deny you when you beg so nice?” he groans.

Then he pinches my clit.

“Oh god!” I half groan, half scream, the orgasm white-hot and utterly brutal when it hits. So blindingly good as it slams through me that I feel like I’m floating.

“Fucking hell,” Dante grits out. “You want me to be your god, baby? Because I’d love to see you on your knees for me.”

I whimper an incoherent response, my whole body quaking so hard from the climax that it’s a damn good thing he’s here to hold me up. He grinds the heel of his hand against my clit to keep it going, whispering filthy, depraved promises in my ear until I sag back against him, the aftershocks finally calming down enough to let me catch my breath.

Not that he gives me much of a chance.

The second the orgasm finally stops rolling through me, he drags his slick fingers away from my pussy and turns me around to face him, pressing me up against the wall again. He tugs at my clothes, and it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t tear my pants when he yanks them down to my thighs.

“Yes,” I gasp, already wanting more. That was one of the best orgasms of my life, but I have a feeling it’ll be eclipsed by the feeling of coming while he’s inside me.

---