Phantasie

by Kit Tunstall

  The bed moved as Dante climbed over the footboard to kneel between her splayed legs. Regan couldn’t help an impatient wiggle as his hands cupped her hips, and he lifted her buttocks higher in the air, until her bonds tightened. She bit her lip as the head of his cock entered her pussy. She tried thrusting backwards against him, but didn’t have enough room to move more than an inch.

  With one smooth thrust, his cock entered her, filling her almost beyond her limits. It had been almost a year since she had a lover, and her vibrator was no match for Dante’s thickness. There wasn’t any pain though—only incredible satisfaction as he filled her, satisfying the deep ache in her womb. “Mmmm…” Regan wasn’t capable of forming real words, but she was certain Dante understood the wordless sounds expressed her pleasure.

  His thrusts were slow and long, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back into her again at a leisurely pace. Regan strained against him, trying to keep him inside her, but he ignored her movements and continued with the pace he set.

  His finger returned to her anus, massaging the slick entrance again before penetrating her. The combination sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, causing her pussy walls to spasm around his cock as he filled her again. Regan knew she wouldn’t be able to hold off long on her orgasm, but she wanted the experience to last.

  Almost imperceptibly, the speed of his thrusts increased. His breathing grew as ragged as hers, and his cock began to pulse inside her. Regan clenched her thighs, and a cry ripped from her as Dante thrust his finger in and out of her anus in time with his cock thrusting into her pussy. The cry intensified when he brought his other hand to her pussy, cupping the mound for a moment before plunging one of his fingers inside to swirl around her clit. He pressed on the right spot, and her pussy convulsed.

  Regan screamed as an intense orgasm washed through her. She was vaguely aware of her behavior and embarrassed by it, but she couldn’t stop. No man had ever made her shout with satisfaction before, and she gloried in the sensations. As Dante’s cock spasmed inside her, releasing his semen into the condom, she milked him for every drop, not content until the last tremors faded from their fused bodies.

  Several minutes passed before their breathing slowed. Dante eased away from her and climbed from the bed. Seconds later, he freed her ankles before walking to the head of the bed to untie her hands.

  Regan rolled onto her back and found the strength to sit up, wincing at the sting from her sensitive buttocks. She felt drained, but in a good way. She winced as her numbed arms and legs tingled. Dante must have realized, because he began to rub the circulation back into her feet. She smiled at him as she rubbed her left wrist with her right hand. “Thank you, Dante.”

  “No, thank you, Regan.” He abandoned her legs to pull her into his arms. His lips were gentle as they settled on hers, moving almost shyly before his tongue slipped inside to stroke hers. She leaned against him, stirred by the gentleness of his kiss. She shifted when she realized it had been a long time since she shared a simple kiss with a man. Usually, they were perfunctory displays, a sort of get-to-know-you that quickly led to more intimate contact.

  She squirmed, thinking about how many one-night stands had dotted the past few years, since she became CEO. There hadn’t been time to form a real relationship with a man, so she used whoever happened to be convenient to scratch the deep itch she couldn’t quite reach when it became unbearable.

  Dante’s mouth left hers to feather kisses across her cheeks before sweeping upward. She closed her eyes as his lips brushed against her lids, wondering if she had used Dante. Nothing about this encounter felt the same as any she had experienced in the past. Usually, she couldn’t wait to get rid of a man after she fucked him, but Regan wanted him to stay, to hold her while she slept.

  Had she been wrong, telling herself she didn’t need a man? Regan knew she had no need of just any man, but was Dante somehow different? Was she falling for him, even though she knew nothing about him? How could that be?

  Her eyes snapped open as the shocking idea occurred to her. She wasn’t a romantic, by any means. She had always been too practical. Two years ago, she had been disapproving when her sister eloped with a man she hadn’t known two weeks. Regan believed relationships were like wine, in that they took a long time to mature to perfection. Each partner had to know almost everything about the other before love could develop. Didn’t they?

  She frowned, staring at Dante’s tranquil face. She wasn’t going to deny what she was feeling. She was too old to hide from her emotions. She didn’t know if what she felt was love, but she knew it wasn’t as simple as sexual desire. Even if it threw all of her carefully ordered beliefs for a loop, she would have to explore these feelings.

  “Regan?” He looked concerned. “Are you all right?’

  She forced a shaky smile. “Yes. I’m just…confused.” She fell quiet, not ready to discuss this unexpected turn with him just yet. “Will you stay with me tonight?” That was as close to vulnerable as she could make herself get.

  He looked surprised, but didn’t hesitate. “Of course. I had hoped you would ask me.”

  Contentment swept through her, and she could comfortably ascribe it to afterglow, but Regan knew it was more than that. She believed in honesty, and the last person she would ever lie to was herself. Somehow, in the space of a few hours, she had developed feelings for Dante.

  That thought should disturb her more than it did, and she figured she would be her normal, rational self in the morning. In the meantime, she resolved not to dwell on it. She would enjoy Dante’s company for the rest of the night and decide in the morning if she wanted to send him away.

  Chapter 4

  She awoke with the same tumult of emotions spinning through her head. She turned on her side and eyed Dante, who still slept. She couldn’t hold back the smile that insisted on forming. She brushed back several strands of dark hair that had fallen on his forehead.

  It felt right having him beside her. The smile faded with that thought, and she was nonplussed to discover she still hadn’t returned to her pattern of fuck-and-run. She was as strongly drawn to him this morning as she had been yesterday evening. Was it simply sexual attraction between them?

  She ran a finger down his arm as she contemplated what made Dante different from other men. The answer that had eluded her last night came easily to her clouded brain this morning. He was stronger than any man she had ever been with, stronger than her. He had made her lose control, had driven her beyond what she thought she could endure, and carefully guided her out the other side.

  Was that all there was to it? The angst was caused by a streak in her that liked submitting? Could it be that her ponderings about forming an emotional attachment could be explained away by a throwback feminine instinct that recognized strength and clung to it? Was Dante her Neanderthal cave dweller, and she the little woman waiting to be dragged away by the hair?

  She frowned at the half-baked theory, intellectually recognizing a grain of truth in the self-justification, but knowing there was more to it than ancient impulse. Dante was a combination of strength and tenderness. Surely, if her primitive self wanted only to be dominated, it wouldn’t respect and respond to his gentle side.

  She sighed, realizing she was no closer to figuring out this enigma than she had been last night. All she was accomplishing with her speculation was steering herself away from the L-word. Was that a good thing, or was she trying to hide from an unsettling revelation? Was she infallible as she had imagined, or had this sexy Italian wormed his way past her defenses?

  He stirred, rolling closer to her, as he opened his eyes. A smile crept across his face. “Good morning, cara mia.”

  “Hi.” Of its own accord, her hand moved to his chest, stroking his thick growth of hair. “How did you sleep?”

  “I do not remember.” He draped his arm across her hip and pulled her closer to him, pressing his hardening cock into her thigh. “All I remember is the smell and taste of you. I think
it followed me into my dreams.”

  Regan wanted his obvious compliment to inspire her disdain, but it sent a thrill of girly giddiness through her instead. A half-giggle escaped her before she bit down hard on her tongue. “Sorry, but I didn’t dream at all.” That was the truth. Sleep came easily, and she had remained in a deep state all night, waking refreshed and instantly alert.

  Automatically, her eyes sought the clock on the nightstand, and she realized she had slept ten hours straight. That amazed her, considering she hadn’t slept more than five hours most nights for the past three years. There hadn’t been time. Even on weekends she rarely got more, because there was always something to do.

  “Perhaps you lacked stimuli.” Dante’s hand moved from her hip to her buttocks, which he caressed lightly. “Are you in pain?”

  She shrugged. “Stings a little, but I didn’t realize it until you asked me.”

  “May I see?”

  She remembered his desire to leave proof of their night. Regan rolled most of the way onto her stomach, bringing her buttocks into his line of sight. Dante drew in a quick breath, and his fingers lightly traced a line across her buttocks. “Is there a mark?”

  “A few pinkish lines and one red mark.” He sat up and leaned forward, bringing his mouth to her buttocks. He pressed gentle kisses across the same area his finger had traced. “Forgive me for marring you,” he said when he raised his head. “It must have hurt terribly.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. There really wasn’t much pain. Mostly pleasure.” She watched with fascination as his eyes darkened. Regan licked her lips, wondering if Dante wanted her again. She couldn’t remember the last time she had made love in the morning. She didn’t feel the usual compulsion to hide her guilty pleasures in the dark of night. “Pleasure,” she repeated in a throaty purr.

  Dante responded with another of his soul-shattering kisses, pulling her up into his arms and crushing her mouth under his before she could catch her breath or say anything else. Regan locked her arms around his neck, anchoring her hand at the back of his head to keep him from pulling away.

  He drew her lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on it. His tongue stroked the flesh after his teeth retreated, soothing it. Regan took advantage of the moment to push her tongue inside his mouth. His lips sealed over hers, but he didn’t try to evade her probing tongue or push her away. Apparently, she didn’t have to surrender control to him all the time.

  Regan’s fingers buried themselves in his hair, urging him closer. She let out a breathy moan when he cupped one of her breasts to thumb the enlarging nipple. It was more sensitive than usual from the night before, and the lightest touch stoked a fire deep inside her pussy, drenching her.

  Dante put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her onto his lap as he leaned back against the headboard, pulling her with him. His cock hovered at the entrance of her pussy, and she writhed against him, wanting to sit down on him without so much as a latex barrier between them. She groaned at her practical side’s reminder and tried to pull away to get a condom.

  He held Regan immobile, deepening the kiss even more, as his hands stroked slowly up her sides before squirming between them to knead her breasts. She gasped and arched her back, crushing her breasts against his palms until the nipples almost hurt from the pressure. In her excitement, she bit down on his tongue, but he didn’t cry out with pain. Dante only chuckled in her mouth and slipped one hand from her breast to stroke her back.

  She didn’t want to be soothed. Regan wanted him to excite her to a fever pitch, as he had done last night. In the cold light of morning, she had little interest in submitting to him and—more surprising—had even less interest in dominating him. She wanted to give and take, which was another new experience.

  With the intent of giving, Regan broke the kiss and extracted her hands from his hair. She stared into his burning eyes for a moment before she got to her knees and scooted backward a few feet, never breaking eye contact. She could see the puzzlement in his expression as she stopped scooting and paused. When she shifted slightly and leaned forward, his confusion faded, and arousal overpowered his expression.

  Regan braced her hands on his thighs and lowered her mouth to his cock. She brought one hand up to secure the base, and slowly, practically hearing his heart rate stutter with anticipation, she flicked her tongue across the head, catching a drop of his arousal. The head was even thicker than his shaft, and its deep purple color enticed her. She lowered her mouth around his pulsing cock, hearing him groan as she did so.

  She paused, enjoying teasing him, and also trying to remember if she’d ever had a technique for blowjobs. As time became a precious commodity, she had wasted little of it on her partners’ pleasures, assuming intercourse would satisfy them well enough. More than a little shame accompanied that selfish memory, and she squirmed with discomfort, wondering when she had become so blasé about others’ needs.

  She applied pressure, sucking gently, as she stroked her hand from the base of his cock to where it brushed against her mouth, before making the return trip. Regan swirled her tongue across Dante’s head, flicking it against the sensitive V, before tracing part of the corona. She stopped moving her tongue and began increasing the suction as he brought his hands to her head and thrust his hips.

  She lowered her mouth as she continued sucking, taking in as much of him as she could. Regan’s pussy spasmed with need when Dante uttered a wordless cry and thrust more frantically. She moved her hand from the base to caress his balls, applying just a touch of firm pressure as she increased the speed and suction of her mouth.

  A shudder passed through Dante, transmitting to her where she lay across his legs, and a smile tried to appear on her lips. She wasn’t going to pretend this was a selfless act, by any means. She enjoyed giving him pleasure, knowing she was the one who caused the tremor, pleased she could give him this moment. And, yes, she enjoyed the power she held over him as his cock spasmed, and his gism suddenly flowed free.

  “I’m coming, Regan.” His voice was little more than a harsh grunt. “You should…”

  She ignored his warning as he trailed off. Regan didn’t usually swallow, but wanted to with Dante. In fact, part of her reveled in bringing him to satisfaction with just her mouth and hands. She flicked her tongue over the V rapidly, continuing to suck, as she rolled his balls. With a harsh cry, Dante’s cock hardened and pulsed as he shot his ejaculate in her mouth.

  Regan swallowed quickly, taking in as much as she could. The taste was no better or worse than she expected, but this man made it different. She couldn’t explain their connection—yet—but she would figure it out.

  She pulled away slowly, making sure she slid her wet pussy across his leg as she leaned back into a sitting position. She watched him, disconcerted by the sharp lines marring his expression. He didn’t look like a man who had just received pleasure. Dante looked like he was in pain. “Did I hurt you?” Was she that out of practice?

  He shook his head, muttering something in Italian before switching to English. “No, never, cara mia. The pain is my burden. I must tell you—“

  But she wasn’t listening. All Regan heard was his no before the beauty of his mouth snared her attention. She blinked and shook her head when she realized he had stopped speaking. “Uh, what? I became distracted.”

  Dante’s eyes narrowed. “You are different this morning, Regan. Softer, somehow. Last night, I was enchanted with your beauty and sexuality, but this morning, I’m more interested in your heart and mind. I want to know you.” He said something else in Italian, and the way he said it convinced her it was swearing. “The situation is difficult, sì?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it is. My life’s in New York, and yours is in Italy.” Regan shook her head. “I’ve never been interested in a long-distance relationship…before.” She paused, taking a deep breath for courage. “Until you, that is. There is something…different about you, Dante. Something special.”

  His eyes closed, and he flinch
ed, as though she had wounded him deeply. “No, Regan, I’m not special. I’m a bastard.” When she shook her head, he said with great force, “Sì, I am a bastard. How will you understand my motivations?”

  She frowned at the confusing statement. What motivations? She swallowed sickly, realizing her mistake. Dante had been trying to extricate himself from the situation, and here she was, pouring out her heart, trying to make plans for a possible future he didn’t want.

  She groaned. “I apologize.” She winced at the insecurity that crept into her tone. “I didn’t mean to try to force you into anything uncomfortable, Dante. I understand this was one night for you. Please forgive me for trying to make it more.” Her words, sincerely meant, sounded stilted and brittle, tinged by the embarrassment welling in her. How could she have so completely misjudged events? All he had wanted was another fuck before leaving this morning. No wonder he looked so tortured.

  Dante’s eyes widened. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I would like to see you again, but you must understand something…”

  She quickly made another intuitive leap. “Oh, God, you’re married, aren’t you?”

  He cursed in a long stream of Italian, shaking his head as he spoke. Dante ran fingers through his disheveled hair, and he seemed to be trying to calm down. “No, cara mia, I am not married. If you would be quiet, I will explain—“

  The shrill ring of the phone interrupted Dante. For half a second, Regan was tempted to ignore it. She blinked at that uncharacteristic thought. “I’m sorry, but I have to answer. The only people with this number are my brother and my assistant. Neither would call unless it’s a true emergency.”

  He sighed, but didn’t protest as Regan slid from the bed and padded to the phone, lifting it on the fourth peal. “Hello.”

  The harried voice of her assistant, Rom Crosby, crackled across the line as crisply as if she had been in her Manhattan apartment, rather than thousands of miles away. “Regan, I’m so sorry to call on your vacation. I know you have to rest, but it’s an emergency.”