Page 50 of Pretty Vengeful Queen

He surges up and kisses me again before I can say the words burning to get out, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me over to the couch he keeps in the corner of his studio.

“You what, princess?” he asks, his voice husky as he lays me down on it, trailing his fingers down my body and dipping them between my legs. “You wanna take me to heaven? You wanna remind me what the fuck we’re fighting so damn hard for?”

I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his fingers inside me, and rock down to get them deeper.

“Fuck,” I gasp when he obliges. The man knows exactly where my sweet spot is, and the cocky, sexy-as-fuck grin on his face tells me he knows it.

“Maybe I want you to get a little heaven too.”

“This will get me there,” I pant, reaching for his cock, the thick outline clearly visible through his pants.

He grunts when I rub it, then retaliates by grabbing both my wrists and raising them over my head, pinning them to the arm of the couch with one hand.

The other is still busy between my legs.

“Dante.” I moan his name. “I fucking need you.”

“I’m right here.” He stares down at me with an intensity that makes it feel like he’s already fucking me. “Always gonna be here for you, princess.”

I spread my legs, writhing on his wicked fingers. “Please.”

He smiles at me, slow and dirty. Then he pulls his wet fingers out of my pussy and rolls one of my nipples between them, then the other.

I arch up, heat shooting through me, but he keeps my wrists pinned down and leans over me, eyes on mine as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, licking it clean. “Fucking delicious.”

“Shit, Dante,” I gasp, squeezing my thighs together around the flood of arousal that brings on.

“Love your tits, princess,” he mumbles against them. “They’re perfect.”

He takes the other one in his mouth, sucking it in whole, and filthy pleas tumble out of my mouth, begging him for more.

He groans, then releases my wrists and straightens up, taking a step away. “Perfect,” he repeats, his eyes roaming over me possessively.

I sit up with a gasp, my chest heaving, and reach for his pants. “I’ll show you perfect,” I promise.

He smirks and catches my hand before I can free his cock, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a hot, tender kiss against the inside of my wrist.

“You do every fucking day, princess,” he says, his voice still husky with need. “But I told you, I want to paint you… just like this.”

My jaw drops. “You want to paint menow?”

“’Course I do,” he says, heat in his gaze. “This is exactly the way I like to see you best. Soaking wet and on the verge of begging for my cock.”

I narrow my eyes and scowl at him, because he’s right. I’m definitely on the verge of begging for it. He got me all worked up, and—

And damn, I can’t be mad. Not when every word out of his mouth, every heated look and cocky smirk, makes me feel like I’m the center of his whole world.

I prop one leg up on the seat of the couch, lounging back against it. “This is what you need to work out your emotions?”

Dante sets up an easel, preparing his paints. “It’s a start,” he says as I slide a hand between my legs and circle my fingers over my clit. “But you gotta stay still for me.”

I stop moving, ripples of desire making my pussy clench.

His eyes flare with heat again. “Good girl. Now spread your legs a little wider and get those nipples hard for me again.”

They’re still puckered into twin buds, tight and sensitive from the attention he already paid to them, but if he wants me to give him a show, I will. I’m used to it, fucking good at it… except this is nothing like stripping. As Dante murmurs more filthy directions, getting me to pose the way he wants, his eyes skipping between me and the canvas he has angled away from me, I feel sexier than I ever have before.

I love the way his eyes burn for me.

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