It’s been three weeks since Dante and I first had sex together, and we haven’t stopped since. I try to keep myself busy sorting out the office he’s assigned me, but I have very few patients. I hang around this house reading or watching TV and waiting for him to show me some attention. I realize how pathetic that sounds and the me who walked into this house six weeks earlier would have me carted off to a psych ward. But that me wasn’t drunk on orgasms, hot sex, and Dante Moretti’s mouth.
Yesterday, he stopped me in the hallway, pressed me against the wall with one hand around my throat and the other on my ass, and he just kissed me. For over ten minutes, he just kissed me, and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I don’t know when he’d have stopped if Maximo hadn’t interrupted us.
My lips were swollen, and my skin was red and tender from his beard, but I could have let him do that all day. Because while he might be a devil who fucks like a god, his kisses are hellfire.
He summoned me to his office a few minutes earlier, which usually means sex on his desk, or on the sofa in the corner, or against the door. But not today. I’m going to grow a backbone and behave like the girl my momma raised instead of being driven by my hormones.
Dante is staring at his laptop screen with a frown on his face. Apart from a curt nod of acknowledgment when I walked into the room, he’s ignored me.
Asshole.
He rolls his neck and the thick veins pulse as he grinds his jaw. My heartbeat is thrumming in my ears as I stand just a few inches from him. If I stretch out my hand I could run my fingertips over his thick biceps and onto his hard chest to feel his muscles flexing beneath the soft rich fabric of his shirt.
Goddammit. Stop it, Kat.
He lifts his head, training his fiery gaze on me and I’m done for. My determination and resistance wilt like a flower in need of a good water in the heat. What the hell is wrong with me?
He stands so quickly I gasp, but I have no time to let it out again because his mouth is on mine, his huge arms around my waist, crushing me to him as he kisses me with so much fire that my skin burns from the heat. One of his strong hands coasts up my back, his fingertips grasping at the fabric of my dress until he reaches my head and palms the back of it. Taking a handful of my hair in his fist, he tugs at the root, tilting my head to his desired angle so that he can claim my mouth as he pushes me back against his desk.
“Fuck, Kat,” he groans as he breaks our kiss for a moment, running his nose over my cheek and down to my neck. “Why do you always smell so fucking good?”
I reach for his hair, curling my fingers into his thick dark locks as I sit on the edge of his desk, spreading my thighs to allow him to press himself against me. And he takes full advantage, grinding his hard cock against my pussy and making me whimper with shameless need.
When the hell did I turn into this person? Desperate for any crumb of affection and contact he will offer me.
As he crushes his mouth against mine again, the hand he has on my waist slides over my hip and my outer thigh until he’s pushing my dress up even further, giving himself access to take whatever the hell he wants from me. His touch is warm as his hand slips beneath the fabric and onto my soft skin until he cups one of my ass cheeks, kneading it in his powerful hand and using it as further leverage to press our bodies even closer together.
“Dante,” I whimper into his mouth, trying to pull away and take in some air, but he refuses to let me, and I remain pinned to him.
There is no escaping him. No fighting him. Not that I want to. I am as desperate for him as he seems to be for me. Slick, wet heat burns between my thighs as I rock my hips against him, chasing the friction that comes from his thick cock rubbing against my clit through my panties.
“Yeah?” he grunts. “Tell me what you want, kitten.”
Kitten. A word that started as an insult has somehow come to make me pliant on command. I lean into him further, my body melting like warm wax against the solidness of his.
“I want you,” I murmur. He smiles before his tongue slips back inside my mouth, and he deepens our kiss, consuming me like a fire does oxygen. He slides his hand between my thighs, running his fingertips over the damp patch of fabric on the crotch of my panties and eliciting a moan from deep inside my chest. I pull on his hair and slide one hand down his back, my fingernails scraping over his shirt as I fight to get him closer to me. To get him where I want him, where I need him.
He growls in response — actually growls. It’s an animalistic sound that starts in his chest and rumbles up through his throat, making me shiver. He tugs my panties aside, dragging the tip of his pointer and middle fingers through my soaking folds.
I whimper again. Shameless, needy, and desperate for more, I hook one leg around his waist and pull him to me, shifting my hips, hoping his fingers will slip lower and deeper. I want him inside me. My body is screaming for him to touch those places that only he knows how to reach. Knowing exactly what I want from him, he slides two thick fingers inside me and my pussy squeezes around him as pleasure and heat surges through my body. Wrenching my lips from his, I throw my head back and moan his name, loudly enough that anyone passing his study might hear, but I don’t care. His touch turns me into someone I barely recognize.
“I love to hear my kitten purring,” he says with a dark laugh that rolls through me as he starts to finger-fuck me with such ease and skill, it’s like he’s known my body forever.
“You… feel…” Those two words are all I can manage as he thrusts deeper, massaging my inner walls as the heel of his palm rubs against my clit until my orgasm starts building to a crescendo. Waves of rippling pleasure start rolling through my core as he buries his face against my neck, dragging his teeth over my sensitive skin.
“You hear how wet your cunt is for me?” he asks before he starts to suck on my neck, pulling his fingers all the way out before driving them back in for emphasis. The slick sounds of my pussy are almost drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears as I tug at his shirt. He’s holding back. Denying me the rush that is so close but so frustratingly far away.
“Please, Dante,” I beg him, lost to any rational thought now. I scramble to unbuckle his belt and pants.
“I don’t have any condoms in here,” he groans in my ear.
“It’s okay, just pull out,” I rasp as I reach inside his pants and squeeze his thick, hard cock in my palm.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Are you sure?”
No. But my wanton whore of a pussy wins out. “Yes. Please,” I plead instead.
Then his fingers are gone and he releases his grip on my hair, making my head spin at the loss of his touch. Until he reaches between my thighs and tears my panties down the middle, effectively making them crotchless.
I blink at him.
“They were getting in my fucking way,” he snarls before he wraps his arms around me and slams into me.
“Ohhh,” I moan, circling my arms around his neck so that I can have something solid to hold onto because I’m pretty sure my soul is about to leave my body.
“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” he says, his lips brushing over my ear. “So fucking good.”
I wrap my legs around his waist as he pushes me back slightly, adjusting his angle so that he can slide in even deeper.
When there is a knock at the door a few seconds later, I bury my face into the crook of his neck as my cheeks burn with shame.
He shouts — loudly and angrily — something in Italian, and though I don’t understand the words, I appreciate their meaning.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
“I am your fucking God, kitten,” he growls in my ear as he goes on railing me on his desk.
The orgasm that has been taunting me for the past ten minutes is so dangerously close now. I hope whoever just knocked on that door has walked away because I’m about to implode.
“Dante,” I cry as my pussy squeezes around him, pulling him deeper and never wanting to let him go.
“Fuck, Kat,” he growls. “I can’t… I need to stop.”
“No,” I cry out in frustration, and my brain stops working entirely as my body chases the endorphins that are only a heartbeat away. I cling tighter to him, crossing my ankles behind his back to keep him where I need him. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop. He drives into me one last time and my climax burns through every cell in my body like a wildfire. “Oh fuck.”
When he bites down on my neck and grinds his hips against me, I know that he’s found his own release too.
We both cling to each other, panting for breath and not daring to look the other in the eye. What the hell did we just do?
“You can get a pill for that, right?” he asks.
I blink in confusion. Then I realize he’s talking about Plan B.
“Yeah. I’ll need to go to the pharmacy,” I whisper.
“I’ll go,” he replies as he pulls out of me and releases me from his grip.
Of course he’ll go. Can’t let the prisoner out alone, can he? Before I can say anything else, a knock sounds again. We look to where the sound came from and my skin flushes bright pink.
Oh my God! They must have heard everything!
“What is it?” Dante shouts as he starts to zip up his pants.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Boss, but Joey is here,” comes the voice from the other side.
His brow furrows into a deep frown. “Joey?”
“Yes, Boss.”
He sighs softly. “I’ll be right out.”
He’s still frowning as he fastens his belt.
“Who is Joey?” I ask as I slip off the desk and straighten my dress, fixing my torn panties as best I can.
“You’re about to find out,” he says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
I follow him out of his study and along the hallway, anxious to discover who Joey is. From Dante’s reaction and the fact that he was disturbed twice about this man’s arrival, he is obviously someone of some importance or influence.
But when we get to the entrance hallway, it’s empty. Dante doesn’t seem bothered though, and he heads off in the direction of the kitchen, with me close behind him. Guests are never allowed to roam the house freely, which means Joey is not a guest.
When we step into the kitchen a few seconds later, the first thing I notice is possibly the longest pair of legs I have ever seen in my life. A young woman, probably in her early-twenties although she could pass for younger or older, sits at the kitchen table, her feet resting on the table top as she stares at us.
“Guiseppina, what are you doing home?” Dante asks with sigh, but there is a hint of a smile on his face.
He’s happy to see her. Who is this woman with the perfect pouty pink lips and legs that would make a super model jealous?
“You know I hate that name,” she replies with a dramatic eye roll as she flicks her long dark hair over her shoulders. Then she stares at him, her face full of defiance and an air of arrogance in the way she holds herself. She knows exactly how beautiful she is. I bet people have been telling her that every single day of her life.
“What are you doing here, Joey? I thought you were staying with Lorenzo and Anya?”
Something about what he just said unsettles her, if only for the briefest second. Pain flashes in her eyes before she pushes herself up and strides over to him with a wide smile. “I thought you might be missing me, big brother.”
Big brother? He has a sister? I’ve heard plenty about the Moretti brothers in my neighborhood, but never about a sister.
“Of course I do. But Lorenzo told me you were spending the summer in Italy once you finished school?” Dante replies.
“Hmm.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks, a deep frown on his face again, and suddenly I feel like an intruder. It feels like they’re having a conversation that is loaded with meaning, even though they’re barely saying anything.
“Things were getting a little… difficult,” she says before closing her eyes for a second. When she opens them again, they are wet with unshed tears. “And I thought I might as well come home. Trade one prison for another, right? At least this one has decent WIFI.”
A prison?
If he is bothered at all by what she just said, Dante doesn’t show it. Instead, he wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. She’s a few inches taller than me, but she’s still dwarfed by his six-foot-four frame.
She rests her head on his shoulder, and I see a glimpse of vulnerability from this young woman who calls her home a prison. He says something to her in Italian and she nods her head. I don’t know what he said, but I suspect they were some words of comfort given the tone of his voice and the soft smile that plays on her lips. But the moment passes quickly and she pulls back from him and glares at me, her dark eyes narrowed as she looks me up and down.
“And you are?” she asks, her tone dripping with disdain.
I glare back at her. It’s not like I chose to be here.
“This is Kat. She’s staying here for a while,” Dante says, but his tone is cold and distant. There is none of the warmth that he had when he was speaking to Joey. None of the fire that was there when we were in his study just a few moments ago. He doesn’t even look at me.
“Kat?” she says, her nose wrinkled in what I can only describe as disgust. Then she links her arm through her brother’s. “Come on and help me unpack and I’ll tell you about my summer.”
“Sure,” he says, but he’s distant, even with her now. He’s in this kitchen with us, but his mind is elsewhere. Still, the two of them walk out of the room without giving me a second glance.
I stand rooted to the spot and watch them leave, with Dante’s cum dripping out of me and feeling more worthless than I ever have in my entire life, well except for… No, don’t go there now, Kat!
That is the last time I will ever let that man use me. The sooner I can get out of this goddamn house, the better.
