Page 84 of The Woman in the Hollow
It wasn’t long before the need for release was overwhelming us.
My hips rocked to meet his thrusts—harder, faster—and my heels dug into his ass, driving him in deeper each time.
My moans tangled with his groans and curses as we both surged forward toward that aching oblivion.
I tightened.
A rumble moved through his chest.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice deep and rough. “Let me feel you come.”
Then I did, body tensing, then releasing into a million shivers, my moans a strangled sound as the waves moved through me again and again.
But Dante wasn’t done with me yet.
As soon as my body went lax again, he was moving—slow and sweet, giving my body a chance to come down and start to build at the same time.
Once my hips were rocking to meet his thrust for thrust, he rolled himself under me once again.
I sat back, finding the exact right angle.
His hips bucked.
Mine circled.
And we were lost in the sensation once again, but this time Dante’s hands were all over me. They slid up my hips, my ribs, teased my breasts, then, finally, slid between my thighs, engaging my clit as I kept riding him.
My moans filled the quiet house.
My movements were wild, reckless, desperate.
“Dante,” I cried, my whole body stiffening as I stood at the precipice, suddenly a little afraid of the fall, the crash.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go,” he added, voice rough. “I’ve got you.”
And despite it all, I somehow knew he did.
Have me.
So I did what he said.
I let go.
The orgasm ripped violently through me, stealing my breath, taking my voice, leaving me shuddering.
Dante pulled me down against him, thrusting up into me through it, dragging it out as I cried out against his neck.
Then, with one rough curse, he followed me, body tensing and releasing.
We were both boneless afterward, panting, hearts racing.
Dante’s arm went around me, a grounding presence I didn’t know I needed until it was there.
His other hand slipped upward to sift through my hair, patiently waiting for me to come back to myself.
Only then did he roll us onto our sides. He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before climbing out of the bed and heading into the bathroom.
Alone, I rolled onto my back, hand pressed to a heart that felt broken open, raw, vulnerable, at risk.
