Page 87 of The Contract

I swallow hard and sit back on my heels, breath hitching softly as I obey.

He watches me—darkly intent, ravenous yet perfectly controlled, like a professor evaluating a star pupil, waiting to see if I’ll pass my final exam.

Slowly, deliberately, I release him from the confines of his pants.

His cock springs free, heavy, rigid, and intimidatingly thick. My mouth goes dry, my pulse skyrocketing, because holy shit—Dante D’Angelo is hung like a horse and doesn’t wear underwear.

He fists my hair, wraps it tight around his hand, and tilts my head back, forcing my gaze helplessly onto his.

“Open your mouth, Pom.”

I do.

He slides in, moaning as he does. And somehow, hearing that rumble ripple through his entire body nearly undoes me.

I do what I can to take him because this man is a lot. In every way.

Then, carefully, he begins to move, controlled and deliberate.

Each thrust sets a rhythm that holds my gaze, pinning me exactly where he wants.

The taste is as vividly, devastatingly him as his eyes, his hair, his mouth. His skin is bittersweet and so damn addictive. Pure Dante. Pure sin.

He picks up speed, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.

In. Out. A seductive glide, patient and measured, gentler than I ever imagined Dante capable of. Yet still, all consuming and too much.

Then his hips flex forward, driving deeper. Tears spring to my eyes, hot and sudden, as he nudges the back of my throat, filling my mouth completely. Saliva slicks his length, blurring my vision, but I don’t pull back—I can’t.

Because I want this. The way he fills my mouth completely, brutally, beautifully.

Dante is utterly, devastatingly everything. And I want him.

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back as his hips piston forward, gaining speed. His grip in my hair tightens painfully, deliciously.

Between thrusts, his palm lands sharp on my ass, then grips, then caresses. Each spank intensifying the ache pulsing between my thighs.

His breath quickens, grip brutal. Every thrust and punishing slap of his palm brings a new surge of heat between my legs, until I’m dripping shamelessly beneath him.

“Eyes on me,” he orders, voice rough and broken. “Don’t you fucking dare look away.”

I hold his burning gaze, watching the wild hunger darken his eyes as he thrusts deeper, pushing my limits until he shudders violently, growling Riley as his release floods my throat.

“Swallow,” he commands. Or coaxes. Call it what you will, I do as I’m told. I swallow hard, taking in every last savory drop.

After a minute, he slowly withdraws. His thumb brushes my swollen lower lip… then my cheek, lingering as he studies the rogue tears sliding down my flushed face.

“Good girl,” he murmurs darkly.

Those two words do something to me. Warmth builds in my chest, tugging a shy smile to my lips.

“Now get on your back, Pom. It’s my turn.”

CHAPTER 27

Dante

For hours, I devour her. Every inch, every moan, every goddamn whimper.

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