by Angel Payne
She trembled, then turned her head against the mattress. Now he could see her face in profile. He froze for a second. The shiny tracks of her tears almost had him hurling away the paddle, but then he caught the little lift at the corner of her mouth. Comprehension hit him like an eight-wheeler. Though she was scared to death, she needed this as badly as he did—all of this, even the way he struck her hard enough to stain her skin. He recalled Mark’s attempt at an explanation of this, how submissives with the tightest reins over their public selves were often the ones who fell hardest once the restraints were on. Catharsis, he’d said. Freedom, he’d explained. Needs unfulfilled by anything else in their lives. It was all Dante could do not to roll his eyes at his friend, but now he silently apologized to the guy for his skepticism. The woman in front of him was living proof that the magic worked both ways, that Dominant and submissive absolutely could serve and sate each other.
The realization filled him with a giddy fullness and a wild freedom of his own. Despite his stalker-style craziness and then the stunt at Dark Escape, he’d actually reined himself back through all this. He’d grappled against the dread of scaring her with the Dom he really wanted to set loose. Not anymore. He unfurled that version of himself on a test run through the next half dozen smacks he issued to her, increasing the strength of each spank as he went. By the time he got done, they both panted hard for air. Celina’s high-pitched cries tangled with his guttural grunts.
It was time for his senses to embark on a flight of their own.
The feeling was euphoric. At last, his logic detached from his body and left behind only the raw need to take, dominate, possess, and burn. Oh fuck yes, to burn…
He followed that instinct by reaching for one of the shelves on the toy rack. It didn’t escape him that the move was tracked by his subbie’s huge gaze, which bulged even bigger when he selected two specific items. He cocked his head and tilted her an encouraging grin, but her features barely moved. She blinked at him, then swallowed hard.
“Stellina.” He said it in a chiding tease. “I said I was going to make it hotter, didn’t I?” Riding his new surge of boldness, he brought his open palm down on her backside. “And your answer to that is…”
“Yes.” She made an attempt to give the word sweetly. An attempt. The trepidation lacing each of her words couldn’t be missed. “Yes, Sir, that’s what you said.”
“Sì.” The little bite of fear in her voice temporarily took away his aptitude for English. “Sì, sì. Ciò è buono, il mio piccolo cara…”
As the praise spilled from his lips, the lube drizzled out of the tube. He kept pouring out the glistening gel, making sure it coated every inch of the tapered anal plug in his other hand. After he had the toy generously slicked, he positioned himself so his chest pressed along her back and his mouth nestled against her ear. With one finger, just as he’d done before, he began to steadily trace the rim of her anus.
“You asked about what I need, bellissima. Here is your answer. I need all of this, every minute of it, with you. Only with you. And I need to know I’ve claimed a place in your body nobody else has been before.” He took a few seconds to bask in the joyous heat of her little back hole, clutching his finger as he pushed in deeper. “Have you been touched here before, baby? Give me honesty. I’ll know it if you don’t.”
“No, Sir.” It was the answer he expected, and the rasping offering for which he’d hoped.
“No man’s fingers in your delectable little asshole? No man’s cock?”
“No! Never!”
He gave a rumble of approval, twisting his finger to get it deeper into her steaming tightness. “I wish I could stuff my stalk into your backside tonight, cara. But no—sshhh—” He tried to laugh off how much her nerves turned him way the fuck on. “I’m already bulging with too much need for your pussy, and you’re already so primed for this…”
As he’d talked, he withdrew his finger. As he finished, he pressed the plug into her.
“Damn!” she shrieked.
“Damn,” Dante whispered. He turned his head so he could watch the turquoise silicone disappear into her body. He let his body follow suit as he trailed wet kisses down her spine, continuing to hold it there. She tried to shove the plug back out, but he reprimanded her with a trio of sharp spanks, which did their duty in making her go slack.
“Rilassati, mio dolce. Relax. The pain will go away; I promise.”
He started moving the plug in and out of her body, fascinated and inebriated with the power of taking her like this. He added more lube to aid his invasion, but that wasn’t such a wise move. With the added sex gel, his thrusts now had a beautiful wet soundtrack to accompany them. When Celina added her tentative aroused moans to that, the universe grabbed his cock and burned three words into it.
Fuck. Her. Now.
With a fevered swoop, he swung around and slid himself between her thighs. As he secured the plug deep in her ass again, gazing over her spread and ready for him, he shook his head in wonderment. Merda, how had he gotten so lucky? He thought of all the great masterpieces he’d seen in his life, of how he could gorge his eyes for another lifetime on all the Michelangelo, Donatello, Brunelleschi, and Botticelli he wanted, and still not behold anything as cathedral-worthy as this woman, so sweet and ready to serve him. Her willingness moved him. Her trust humbled him. Her beauty devoured him.
His arms coiled as he gripped both her thighs and opened her a little wider. He didn’t have to test her body’s readiness. He saw it. Her red and bruised ass quivered with anticipation. Her cunt lips gleamed with her juices as they grabbed at the air, pleading for his cock to breach them. And he so couldn’t wait to accommodate that need.
“This is the part where we burn it into cinders, stellina. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” It was more a sob than a word. Her follow-up was a collection of desperate rasps. “Yes, Sir! Please!”
As she issued the plea, he frantically shoved down his zipper, finally freeing his iron-hard staff. He could practically see the blood pulsing in the veins that stood out against his stretched skin. The broad purple head was soaked with precum. Thank fuck he’d slipped a condom into his pocket, though getting the damn thing on was an exercise in torture. Christ, even the brush of his fingertips at his balls made him hiss, fighting the flood that slammed at his body’s dam.
In a matter of seconds, he fitted himself against her. He gave the anal plug another decisive twist, then prodded the entrance of her tunnel with his white-hot tip. Beneath him, Celina let out a long, needy moan. Her shoulder muscles were an incredible landscape as she curled her hands around the edges of the cuffs. She bucked her hips, trying to slide her body back deeper onto his cock. He nipped that rebellion in the bud, digging his fingers hard into the front of her hips.
“No,” he ordered. “If I only get this tonight, then I get all of it. Complete surrender, Celina. Everything. Now. Your body. Your mind. Your arousal. Your orgasm. You’re going to give them all to me, sweet girl. Empty yourself into me.”
I sure as hell plan on returning the favor.
She let out a high, shaking sigh. “I—I’ll try. I will.”
“Good.” As he slid in by another inch, he angled his body over hers, digging his knees into the mattress and one hand into her hair. “You’re my good girl. Bellissima mio. Vorrei penetrarla. I’m going to fuck you now, hard and deep. Goddamn, what you do to me…”
Before the words were finished on his lips, his penis was sucked in, gripped, and engulfed by her body. Celina’s groan twined with his, though he was barely conscious of anything beyond his roaring blood, his hammering heartbeat. Her obedience was perfect. Better than perfect. He not only felt her submission in her soft and yielding muscles, but in the very air between them, an electricity she openly channeled to him. He grabbed the gift and felt like fucking Thor with a thunderbolt in his hand. The bolt zapped through him, taking hold of him, pumping his hips faster, twisting his grip tighter. Her head arched back as his finger
s clawed her scalp. Skin slapped skin as he claimed her pussy with his cock.
“Take it,” he ordered from locked teeth. “Take me. All of me.”
“Yes!” Tears coursed down her face, running over her smiling lips. “Thank you, Sir!”
He used his grip on her hair to angle her head to the side. He dipped his own head to suckle the tears off her cheeks. “You’re wet everywhere, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“You love this, don’t you, stellina?”
“Yes.” She gasped as he rolled his hips, changing up the pressure so her G-spot got a nice visit from his cockhead. “Oh God, yes!”
“Your cunt is crying all over my cazzo, baby. I think it wants to come.”
“Please,” she answered. “Oh please!”
Her words hit him straight in the cock this time. But he was torn. He didn’t want this to end. He gritted against the heat that beat inside his balls, taking one more moment to kiss the salty sweetness of her face again. “Please…what?”
She hiccupped, trying not to sob again and failing. “Please, Sir, I want to come.”
“Ah, sì,” he uttered. “Then you shall.” The last threads of control snapped in his own body. Blinding fire erupted up his shaft. “Come for me, cara. Come with me. Fuck, yes!”
She shuddered and trembled. Her vagina clenched. A scream of pure passion spilled off her lips.
And he was gone.
His flood didn’t stop, pouring from him in consuming, mind-robbing waves, tearing away all coherence. He felt his eyes roll back in his head as his cock now swam in a condom full of his seed, but the climax itself didn’t let up. He was drained, consumed, and still her body mercilessly milked him. Was this what heaven felt like? Or…hell? At the moment, he didn’t care. Angel or demon, the woman who writhed beneath him, still panting and sobbing in the grip of her own explosion, was well worth the price of his soul.
Chapter Sixteen
Celina tugged back the cuff of her coat, exposing the scuffed skin of her wrist. She ran fingers along the strip and picked up on the faint smell of the eucalyptus gel that Dante had worked into her skin after setting her free from the cuffs. She closed her eyes, trying to commit the scent to memory.
Then wished, for a desperate moment, the marks could be tattoos instead.
The elevator’s chime broke into her reverie. Both she and Dante looked up in curiosity. It was four a.m., and clearly he didn’t expect anyone in here any more than she did. A building housekeeper with an apple doll face got on and nodded to him. She peeked at Celina with open curiosity.
“Good morning, Mr. Tieri.”
“Good morning to you as well, Olga. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“You too, Mr. Tieri.” She glanced at Celina again. “You no go to work today, do you?”
“No, sweetie. Not today. Spending time with family, after I…” His face tightened. “See my friend off. You have a nice day, now.”
“Yes indeed, Mr. Tieri. The turkey you give us is stuffed and ready!”
“I’m glad.” His broad smile clearly charmed the woman down to her underwear. Celina wondered if Olga could see the sadness hiding behind it, hiding in the darkest parts of his eyes and holding back the edges of his lips. If she did, she didn’t indicate it. She got off at the next floor, trundling her cleaning cart behind her.
When the doors closed, he didn’t waste a second to turn on her. His smile was gone. Darkness ruled his gaze again. He stepped closer, backing her into the corner, but that didn’t stop his advance. Before she could breathe, he sealed his lips over hers, then parted her with brazen intent. His tongue was rough, possessive, unrelenting. In short, it was pure completion.
The horrific sting began again at the backs of her eyes. Shit. Shit. She thought every tear in her body had surely washed down the drain during her epic-length visit to his shower. She was so wrong. This good-bye was going to be worse than she thought.
The elevator got to the ground floor. Before the doors opened, he jabbed on the 45 button, sending them back up.
“Dante—”
“Don’t leave.” He leaned and started suckling her neck. “Come back to bed with me. It’s warm. You love my sheets. You love me on them.”
“Damn it,” she retorted. If he added any mention of his towel heater or his back-massaging abilities, she was toast. “You really didn’t become CEO on your looks, did you?”
“No, ma’am.” He shifted his mouth to the other side of her neck, pressing his advantage by fitting the ridge in his crotch to her now aching mound. Since he’d torn the covering for that area right off her body, she was bare beneath her dress, and they both knew it. “Stay with me a few hours more, stellina.”
He wouldn’t beg her, something else they both knew. Aside from the Roman blood that filled his veins, he was a man hardwired for command—a third thing they both knew, a fact she’d never refute after last night.
She yearned to know so much more about him.
Which was why she had to let him go.
An image rooted in her mind, of her actually daring to bring Dante to Dad’s for Thanksgiving dinner. Even though they were one brother down, he’d be skewered alive. Dylan and Nik would gladly take up the slack for Cameron in snarky blows and dirty looks. She could hear them now, tearing apart everything from his designer shoes on up to the product on his forty-three-year-old hair. After Dante decided he’d had enough, she’d be flayed and gutted too. The crappy thing was, she’d even deserve part of it. Okay, all of it. She’d have to stand and plead guilty to the crime of letting Dante touch her, more than once. Then admit that she liked it. Then own up that she’d probably let him do it again.
If that wasn’t enough, she’d have to confront the hardest truth of them all. Not just to Dyl and Nik, but to herself. She’d have to accept the revelation that kept surging from the depths of her soul, refusing to be silenced—the realization that she’d slept with the enemy, with full intent and purpose this time, and now knew he wasn’t such an enemy after all. The “carpetbagger asshole” had indeed come bearing a carpet—but it didn’t hide dirty money. It held pure magic. And the ride he’d given was a journey she’d treasure forever.
No. No. The decision powered her enough to slip from beneath him and push the button for the lobby again. Carpet rides weren’t for forever. That’s why they were magic. They weren’t real. It was time to get out of here and put her feet on the ground again. It was Thanksgiving. She had things to do, including a lot of packing. Thirty-seven more days was going to pass very quickly.
She hoped.
After he bit out a string of Italian she did not want translated, Dante followed her into the lobby and out to the porte cochere. The Jag was waiting, already started up and idling, likely to warm up the interior. Vincent stood across the driveway, huddled against the freezing air and grabbing a cigarette. He gave them both a nod as they came out, then took the tactful approach and decided his cig was suddenly very interesting. Nevertheless, Dante pulled her farther away, out onto the sidewalk where the building’s lights didn’t reach.
In the shadows, with his determined stare fixed to her, he instantly turned back into the Dom who’d given her the best night of ecstasy in her life. Okay, that was an ideal explanation. She tried to hang on to that. Focusing purely on what they’d given each other’s bodies was the perfect way to get through this. She used that to encourage a saucy little grin to her lips, and she glanced up him from beneath her lashes.
“Well, Mr. Tieri. Thank you. I hope it was as good for you as it was—”
“Shut up, Celina.”
He curved a finger under her chin and forced her gaze up. His touch was like the handle of a furnace, even though he wore nothing but his sweats and a black crew sweater. But his face was the fire that decimated her. His eyes, twin coals of intensity, added to the heat from his hand, branding her to the bone. His forehead creased, and his lips parted, making his features a portrait of raw torment.
Her brea
th clutched. She curled one hand into his sweater and the other into his beard. As her senses got lost in the dark indigo fires in his gaze, she silently pleaded for his kiss. Just one more. Just one more whirl on the magic carpet, before she reclaimed her life, her control, and her sanity, if that were possible. In so many ways, she wished it wasn’t.
He leaned closer. The cloud of his breath mingled with hers.
He didn’t kiss her.
“You remember when you ordered me to stop with the stellina shit?” He shook his head, chuffing softly. “Too late. You know why?” He pressed his hand over hers, in the center of his chest. “The earth moves. The moon does too. The constellations change. But the stars are still there. And you, Celina Kouris, are always going to be right here. You can’t change that, even six thousand miles away, mia stellina di prodigio.” One side of his mouth lifted as tiny snowflakes dotted the air around them. “You’re always inside me, my star of wonder.”
* * * *
The timing on this heartache crap couldn’t suck more.
She tried the old-fashioned American approach of dousing the emptiness in every holiday tradition she loved, and even a few she’d never tried before. Shopping. Lights. Eggnog. Lights. Wreath-making class. Lights. No matter what she tried, getting her yule groove on was not turning the Dante switch off.
It didn’t help that he was everywhere.
The Daley Plaza Christmas Tree ceremony? Sponsored by GRI.
Some Central Shelter pups needing homes for Christmas? He plucked up the first one.
Needy kids getting their own free-play hours at the Navy Pier Wonderfest? Another GRI sponsorship.
Maybe the man was trying to drown his own misery in the merry-merry.
The thought made her heart clutch. And her head really pissed off.
What the hell are you doing? Just tune him out. Shut him off.
