Page 83 of The Woman in the Hollow
He followed, sliding my shirt off of my arms before dropping it off the side of the bed.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as his fingers moved down the slope of my back to sink into my butt, dragging me up just a bit higher, making me slide against his hard-on, dragging a groan out of him and a gasp out of me.
My hips did an involuntary glide. Then another. And another. Until every muscle in Dante’s body was tense and his fingers were bruising into my butt.
I pressed my hands into his shoulders, pushing until he moved flat. With a disappointed whimper at the loss of his length against me, I leaned down.
It was my turn to tease his neck, loving the thrum of his pulse against my tongue, the way his breath caught and exhaled shakily.
My mind and body were disconnected, one wanting me to savor this, to have him trembling and aching with need, the other wanting to slip down his pants, then feel him slide fully inside me.
I chose the former, trailing my lips, tongue, and teeth up the shell of his ear, kissing down his jaw, then blazing a path downward.
My tongue traced between the indents of his muscles, loving the way they tensed under the soft exploration, how his breath rushed out of him, how his fingers clenched and dug into my arms, shoulders, neck, as I moved lower.
My lips kissed down the deep V that disappeared into his pants before I slid lower still, teasing my tongue up his hard length through his pants until the material was wet with his need, until his hips were bucking up toward me, silently begging for more.
Only then did I lower the waistband and continue the exploration.
A deep, low groan escaped him when my lips finally closed around the tip of him, sucking him into my mouth, and circling my tongue around him before taking him deeper.
I was done exploring then.
His hands grabbed the back of my neck, moving me into the slow, steady pace he was looking for, then just holding on as I gave him exactly what he liked.
Until he was taut as a bow.
Until his breathing was short and shallow.
Until he was letting out delicious little rumbling groans of need.
The taste of him was in my mouth, and my sex clenched hard at the intimacy.
Then, suddenly, his fingers wrenched in my hair, curling, pulling.
I worked against the quiet command until the pain in my scalp forced me to move upward, his cock slipping from between my lips as he kept pulling.
Dante’s eyes were molten when we were face to face again. His thumb traced my swollen lower lip before he gave my hair one more yank. Then our lips were pressed together again, hard, hungry, desperate.
I lowered my hips until his length was pressed against my cleft, rocking against him as the kiss became heat and teeth and aching need.
I lost his arm as he reached into the nightstand, then pressed my hips up so he could roll on the protection before pulling me against his cock again.
Dante threw his weight, rolling me under him.
The kiss broke, his head lifting to look down at me as his hips shifted.
I felt the press of him against me for a moment before his hips thrust forward.
I gasped at the deep stretch of him, and Dante groaned at the tightening of me.
Settled deep, there was a moment of nothing—just shock, pleasure, an intimacy there were no words for.
But it wasn’t long before the need clawed at both of us.
My legs lifted to bracket his lower back. My arms closed around him.
Then he was moving, slow and deep, the movements careful, measured, savoring the magic of something new.
