Page 62 of The Prices We Pay
He looks so fucking hot standing above me, I can hardly take it.
Fisting the sides of my thong, he slowly works it down my leg, but instead of laying them on the chair with my pants, he balls them up and sticks them in his back pants pocket.
“There’s people right outside,” he says as if trying to give me one last chance to back out while simultaneously shrugging off his ruined shirt.
“The only person out there who hasn’t heard the sounds I’m about to make is Clara. And I’m not entirely convinced she wouldn’t come in here and give me a pat on the ass and a ‘job well done.’”
The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk. “Ever since I saw you sitting in your office that night, I’ve wanted to do this.” His hand works at the button of his slacks.
“Dante”
“Yeah, Mama?”
Fuck, that name again.
“Do it.”
His barrel of a chest heaves before bending down and kissing me senseless yet again. Our bodies press together, pushing me flat against the desk once again, and he groans, muttering a curse against my lips. Wrapping one of his hands around my thigh, he lifts my leg and drapes it over his hips. My fingers dig into the toned muscles on his back asI pull him tighter against me, not wanting to leave even a millimeter of space between us.
I love the feeling of him in my arms. He’s strong yet gentle; his touch is aggressive but not overpowering, just as I knew he would be.
My back arches against my executive desk, and I moan, breaking our kiss. Taking the invitation, he sinks his open mouth into my neck, sucking and teasing my pulse point. And just like it did when Enzo, Sebastian, and Luca teased that patch of skin, it shoots a jolt of electricity straight to my clit. I don’t even bother suppressing the shiver.
I work my hands past the waistband of his slacks and cup his toned ass in my hands.
Shit, I think he has a better ass than I do. Might be right up there with Sebastian’s.
He groans against my neck as I give it a firm squeeze. “Fuck. I want to taste you. Let me taste you, Amore Mia.”
“Do it,” I say again.
Not wasting another moment, his mouth begins its descent. As he gets to the swell of my breasts, he takes his time tugging each sensitive nipplebetween his teeth through the lace. I immediately cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the moan of pleasure that falls from my lips. Dante drags his tongue along my stomach, and I pick my head up to watch him as he goes. Something about watching the man’s tongue glide against my skin has wetness leaking between my thighs.
His hazel eyes look up at me through his ridiculously long lashes, and he thrusts against my pussy. And even though his cock is still tucked behind his pants, I can feel its hardness press against me. “I can feel you soaking my pants.”
I bite my lip, tipping my head back against the desk as I sink further into his touch.
“Christ, Joe. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
“Taste me, Dante,” I command. So desperately wanting to have his mouth on my cunt.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. And then he’s pressing his face against my pussy with a loud groan.
Using two fingers, he parts me and flicks his tongue against my desperate clit. “Oh… fuck, yes,” I whine as I wiggle against the desktop. My entire body floods with heat, and I know I’m soaking his face with my wetness. I know that when he stands up, his beard will be dripping with my arousal. The possessive woman in me hums at the image.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says as he continues to tease me with his tongue. Spreading me wider so he can lick along my slit. As one hand holds me open, the other works its way up and down my body. Caressing and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. My thighs. My hips. My waist. My breasts. And when he harshly pinches a nipple between two fingers, I whimper, “Fuck—Dante, please…”
“Tell me what you need, Mama.”
“More. I need more.”
Kissing my pussy one more time, he stands back up over my body and leans back down over my face, stopping before his lips reach mine. “Can I kiss you?”
It takes me a moment to realize why he would ask me such a question, but when I do, I smirk, smiling up at him. “Dante, you saw me on a date with a woman, remember? The taste of pussy doesn’t exactly bother me.”
He stands stunned, as if he’s just now putting together the fact that I was on a real date with a woman and that I’ve hooked up with one. Several actually. Laughing, I reach up and grab his face, closing the distance between my lips and his. Kissing my taste off his mouth.
His lips part with a moan, and I repeat for a third time, “Do. It.”
