by T. K. Leigh
His eyes darkened with pure unmatched hunger, a greed unlike any I’d seen consuming him.
“Say it again,” he demanded as he played with my folds, spreading my wetness around.
“It’s yours.”
“What is?” He pushed a finger inside, setting off sparks as he fucked me with his finger. It wasn’t gentle or restrained by any stretch of the imagination. He was a man on a mission. A mission to make me come as fast and as hard as he could, to rip my orgasm from me, to make me surrender completely to him.
“My pussy,” I breathed, closing my eyes as my brain thought about one thing and one thing only…the way Dante had the ability to bring me so much pleasure with just a few carefully measured strokes. My insides warmed, my legs becoming weak. The only thing keeping me upright was Dante’s hand glued to my back, pinning my body to his.
“Damn straight it is,” he hissed. “I’m the only man who will ever fuck this pussy again.”
“Yes,” I moaned, the increased frenzy of his motions pushing me higher and higher.
“What were you thinking about when I finger-fucked you during the ceremony earlier?”
“How I knew it was wrong but wanted even more.” I didn’t even pause to contemplate an appropriate response. I didn’t have to. Dante never judged me, never demeaned me for giving voice to my desires, my needs. Instead, he guided and nurtured them, making me realize exactly what I wanted. “How I wished we could have a repeat of the last time I wore that dress.”
“The museum?” he asked coyly.
All I could do was nod, my body wound tight. It didn’t matter that I’d been the welcome recipient of an incredible orgasm just a few hours ago. My body hungered for its next release.
“Did you like it when I bent you over and fucked you?” His motions slowed, and I groaned, desperate to feel him harder, faster, deeper. “When I stuck my finger in your ass?”
“God, yes.” I moaned, his rhythm decreasing even more. I pulsed against him, but he tightened his grip on me, holding my orgasm captive. It was his way of reminding me who was in charge. And I was all too happy to relinquish complete control to him. If the orgasm I had earlier was any indication, I had a feeling the next one would shatter me. All because I was able to shut off and stop thinking for a minute. Nothing mattered right now. Not the unanswered questions in our past. Not the uncertainty of our future. All that mattered was the present, being here with Dante, surrendering everything else to him.
“Thinking about that just made you wetter, didn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Why? What did you like about that?”
“Everything.” His fingers lingered between my legs, but were now barely touching me. I racked my brain, trying to come up with something, anything so he’d touch me again, so he’d make me come again.
“What specifically, Eleanor? Tell me.”
“Just… Just everything, Dante.”
A chill washed over me, the warmth no longer between my legs as Dante pulled his hand back. I opened my eyes, watching as he raised his hand to his mouth, slow, torturous, agonizing. He darted his tongue out, about to taste my arousal on his fingers when he suddenly changed course, bringing them to my lips.
“Suck,” he ordered.
Holy shit.
My adrenaline spiked as I kept my eyes glued to his. I brushed my tongue against the tip of his finger, barely touching, the contact light. Then I wrapped my lips around them, tasting me and him, the combination making me burn, making me want to crawl on top of him, our two bodies fusing together, never to be parted. He forced two additional fingers into my mouth. I eagerly took them, swirling my tongue, sucking them deeply, fully, wanting every last drop.
“Enough!” his gruff voice cut through the silence as he ripped his fingers from my mouth.
“Enough?” I peered up at him through coquettish eyes. Lowering my hand to his waist, I palmed his erection, the bulge in his pants unmistakable. “I thought we were just getting started, Dante.”
He clutched my wrist, preventing me from teasing him any further, and tugged me against his hard body. Before I had a chance to catch my breath, he grabbed the back of my neck, his mouth bruising mine. His kiss was rough, jarring, turbulent, piercing my soul and penetrating my heart with the way he devoured me, the way he held me, the way he needed me.
Desperate for more of him, I tore my lips away and reached for his belt. Again, he caught my hands, stopping me.
“What do you think you’re doing, Eleanor?”
“Undressing you.” I was a mess of hormones, blind to everything else. “I need to feel you. Inside me. Above me. Below me. However you want it. I don’t care. Just let me feel you,” I pleaded. This man could make me beg without asking, make me burn without lighting the match, make me submit without demand.
“Not yet.”
I knew those words were coming, but I didn’t want to hear them. I’d never felt so reckless, so rash, so…unlike myself. Dante liked foreplay. I often wondered if he preferred it over the actual act of intercourse. But I didn’t want foreplay. This whole evening had been foreplay. My lungs burned to breathe him in, my throat ached to moan his name, my insides heated with the promise of what was to come.
“Please.” My hands landed on his wide shoulders, tugging the suit jacket down his arms. “I’ll do anything, Dante. I just…” My eyes floated to his, passing him a demure look. “I need you to fuck me, Dante.”
My fingers trailed along his bowtie, my lips sensually kissing that sweet spot between his neck and shoulder. When he seemed to lose himself to the moment, I yanked the tie from his collar before unbuttoning his shirt. I’d only gotten through three buttons before he stopped me.
“Eleanor,” he said through a tight jaw.
“Yes?”
He studied me for a prolonged moment, both of our chests heaving in near unison. “Go to the bedroom. Grab the eye mask from the nightstand and put it on. Then lie down and wait for me. Don’t get off that bed. Do you understand?” His tone was even, at complete odds with the way my heart pounded in my chest. I remained motionless for a moment, then he barked, “Answer me.”
“Yes, Dante.” I spun from him, doing as he asked, as he demanded.
Slipping into the bedroom, I found the mask, then turned down the covers and settled onto the mattress, pulling the mask over my eyes so I couldn’t see anything. Just like the other night when he had me wear this very eye mask, my other senses became heightened.
My skin ached with a dull throbbing. I found myself constantly squeezing my legs together to get some relief. A part of me thought about touching myself to dampen the pressure that was ready to explode, but I didn’t. I wanted Dante to have my orgasm, to own all of them, just like he owned me. The minutes ticked by, my racing heart a metronome keeping time as I waited. And waited. And waited.
When I was about to storm into the living room and berate Dante for being an insufferable tease, I felt the bed dip, a warm body slithering up mine. I moaned, my muscles relaxing as teeth grazed my skin, licking, sucking, admiring. I couldn’t see what he was doing. Didn’t know where he was looking. Didn’t know where he would touch me next. But I didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were cloudy with lust, his pupils dilated with anticipation.
“Good girl,” he said as I arched into him, his mouth clamping over my nipple. “You follow direction exceedingly well. I was expecting a bit of pushback from you tonight, but you played along quite nicely. Especially now.” He dragged his tongue across my breast, taking his time, savoring the taste of my skin. “Did you think I was going to make you wait for me all night?”
“The thought had begun to cross my mind,” I answered. “I was about to drag you in here.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Eleanor. That would be breaking the rules,” he said coyly. “I asked you to come into the bedroom and stay here. Not stay here until you couldn’t take it anymore, then come get me.” The heat of his breath hovered close and I craned my head, aching to feel his
lips on mine. But he remained just out of reach, the pressure becoming unbearable. “Do you know what happens if you don’t follow the rules?”
“What?” I swallowed hard, my throat becoming dry.
“You’ll be punished.”
His fingers found my nipple and he squeezed, causing me to scream, more out of surprise than pain. It didn’t hurt, not like it had the first time he’d done this same thing. Now, it was incredibly pleasurable, even satisfying, as if it quenched a hidden yearning that had been suppressed for years.
“Now, Eleanor,” he continued, releasing his hold on me, leaving me a panting, unhinged web of need.
My brain had turned into complete mush. My sole motivation was to do anything I had to in order to get him to keep making me feel, to keep propelling me higher, to keep pushing the limits of how far I could take this. And I wanted to take it all the way. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the ambience of the evening. Maybe it was the game we’d been playing. Whatever the reason, I wanted Dante to dominate me. I wanted him to control me. I wanted him to punish me. Despite all my preconceived notions of power exchanges, giving this to him made me feel powerful, fierce, commanding.
“What do you think a good punishment would be?”
“Whatever you want to do to me,” I replied in a barely audible voice.
“Do to you?”
A lithe finger snaked from my collarbone down my sternum, stopping just above my waist. My muscles clenched, anticipation of what was to come keeping me on edge. The instant I felt him between my legs, I feared I would shatter into a million pieces, unable to find all of them to put myself back together again. Maybe I didn’t want to be put back together. Maybe I needed the missing pieces. Maybe Dante was my missing piece.
“But you haven’t misbehaved.” He lowered his mouth to my stomach, his tongue circling my navel — soft, warm, wet.
“Maybe I want it anyway.”
“That’s not the way the game’s supposed to be played.”
I arched my back, pushing my pelvis toward him as his mouth leisurely trailed a fiery path down my stomach, hovering so close to where I needed him. Blinded by lust, my need to feel ruled my actions. Reaching down, I ran my fingers through his hair, a tiny moan of appreciation rolling from his mouth.
“Do I need to tie you up, too?” he mused, firmly gripping my hand.
A rush of adrenaline coursed through me at the thought of being bound, unable to move, to see, completely at Dante’s mercy.
“I wouldn’t complain,” I said coyly, squirming as the heat of Dante’s mouth grew closer and closer to my center. I held my breath, waiting for that first flick of his tongue, that first drag of his fingers. But it never came.
“Dante…”
“Yes, amore mio?”
“What are you doing?”
“Admiring you,” his deep baritone answered, the heat of him still so close to me.
“Please, Dante.”
“Please, what?”
“You know what.”
“Yes, I do.” His hands gripped my thighs, bruising, marking, claiming. He raked them down my legs, his hold only becoming more severe, more greedy, more agonizing. Slow. Tedious. Torturous. “Eleanor…” His voice was almost a growl as he reached my feet and carefully slid them out of the heels I still wore.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to grab your hand and help you up.”
“Up? But—”
Before I could utter another syllable, his mouth was over mine, swallowing my words, capturing my protest. I stiffened momentarily, then melted into his welcome assault, deepening the exchange. His kiss stole my breath and arrested my heart.
“Remember our game,” he murmured against my lips.
“Yes, Dante,” I answered. I would agree to anything he wanted if it meant he’d kiss me like that again, leaving me soulless, motionless, thoughtless.
“Good.”
I felt the bed dip, then he grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet. My breathing increasing, he led me a few steps, then stopped. Based on what I knew of the layout of the room, unless my direction was incredibly off, we were probably standing right in front of the French doors leading to the balcony. I could almost see the twinkling lights of Los Angeles fourteen floors below us.
His hand pressed against my lower back and he crushed me to him, his body still clad in his tuxedo. A warmth danced on my lips and I held my breath, anticipating his kiss.
“Do you trust me?” he murmured, ghosting his mouth over mine.
Without hesitation, I answered, “Yes.”
“If it’s too much, just tell me. Just say game over.”
I swallowed hard. “Like a safe word?”
“I suppose.” He ran his thumb across my lips.
“Have you ever used a safe word before?” I asked, unsure what had possessed me to do so. Perhaps I was just curious about his past. We never discussed previous lovers all that much, at least not in detail. I never pressed him, probably because, for the longest time, I didn’t think it mattered. I had every intention of never seeing him again once I left Italy. Now I found myself curious as to his own history.
“I won’t lie to you, Eleanor. Before I met you, I had used them on occasion.”
“Why are you just using them with me now?” A seed of doubt planted in my brain.
“Because I knew you were different from everyone else.”
My expression fell slightly. A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest and he pulled me tighter against him. His lips found my neck, his motions delicate, gentle, loving.
“Believe me when I tell you it’s a good thing. From the minute I set my eyes on you, my heart knew you were so much more than a woman I would lose myself in for a little while in order to deal with all the things in my life I had no control over. You make the past not hurt as much.”
“Then why—”
He pressed a finger over my lips. “This is for you.”
“For me?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you trust me, Eleanor?”
“Of course.”
“Then trust me when I say this is all for you, to make you feel more powerful than anyone in your life has ever allowed you to feel.” He released his hold, a chill washing over me. Then the French doors opened, the chill becoming even more pronounced as the crisp September air hit my naked flesh.
Dante’s hand found mine and I made no move to protest when he led me onto the balcony, completely bare and exposed to the world below. Dante was right. Something about this did make me feel bold, undaunted. I could only imagine how I would feel after whatever else he had in store. In my old life, I stayed away from the unknown, preferring to have every minute of my day scheduled, having a plan for every situation I may find myself in. But here, the mystery, the unknown, the promise of what was to come only heightened my confidence.
When his lips whispered against my temple, my breathing grew ragged. “Get on your knees, Eleanor.” His voice sounded demanding once more.
Without questioning, I slowly lowered myself to my knees, Dante helping me. My legs were a little unsteady, nerves filling me. I had a million questions on the tip of my tongue, begging to be unleashed. But that was the old Ellie. She needed to know exactly what would happen. She needed to know the location of every piece of patio furniture, how many cars lined the street below, how many windows in the hotel were lit, wondering if anyone would catch a glimpse of our interlude. This new Eleanor didn’t care. This new Eleanor did something that had never come easily to her before… This new Eleanor trusted. Yes, I could come up with a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t trust Dante, but I did. I hoped it wasn’t foolhardy of me to do so.
As my knees hit the balcony, I was surprised to be met with a soft cushion instead of the cold cement. I couldn’t see, but I could visualize my surroundings from the little bit of time I spent out here. Lining the entire perimeter of the expansive suite, it was wide enough to fit an eight-seat patio table, several l
ounge chairs, and a couch, all with plenty of room to spare.
Dante’s fingers traced the curve of my face, and I drew in a shaky breath, every muscle in my body tightening.
“Don’t be nervous, passerotta.”
“I can’t help it.” I laughed apprehensively. “I don’t do well with the unknown.”
“Which is exactly why I want to do this with you, why I want to give this to you. You may kneel before me right now, my beautiful Eleanor…” He cupped my cheek, the feeling of his flesh on mine warming me, “but I worship at your feet, praise your very presence, lay prostrate before you. You are my queen, my goddess, my innamorata. Never forget that. All of this, what we’re about to do, is for you. You are in complete control, not me. Capisci?”
“Yes, Dante,” I breathed, darting my tongue out to moisten my lips.
“Bene.” He dragged his finger down my neck, across my collarbone. The fire in his touch lit a blazing path down my arm. He grabbed one wrist, then the other, pinning them behind my back. My heart drummed in my chest, the sound deafening, piercing, powerful. If I could hear it, surely Dante could, as well.
Instantly, he was behind me, his front to my back, his arousal noticeable against me. He must have been kneeling now, too.
“From the moment I laid eyes on you…,” he began, his voice deep and fevered. A soft silk material looped around my wrists, my breathing increasing exponentially as I pictured what I must look like right now, kneeling on a cushion on a balcony of this luxury hotel, blindfolded, bound, completely at the mercy of another person. “I knew you were dangerous.” His hand found my neck and he forced my head back, his fingers digging into my skin.
I panted, his tone a mixture of predatory and kind at the same time. “Dangerous?” I struggled to say.
“Yes. Dangerous. I knew once I heard your voice, peered deeply into your pained eyes, allowed myself to fall into you, I’d never be the same man.” He released his hold on my throat, his hand skimming down my body, growing closer to my breasts. “Like you, Eleanor, I had a plan. And you were not supposed to be a part of that plan.”