by Lia Lee
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ignore your sweet cunt,” he murmurs as he kisses, then nibbles and sucks, the side of my neck. He’s still pinching, pulling, rolling my nipples, and I’m holding onto his shoulders.
His lips move from the side of my neck, to my shoulder, and then he’s placing warm, open-mouthed kisses over the roundness of one breast as he continues torturing the other with his fingers. When his lips close over my nipple, all I can do is release one long, helpless moan, and I feel him laugh against my aching, swollen flesh. He’s sucking and biting and pinching and pulling, and then he starts on my other breast.
“Dante,” I murmur.
“Mm. I like the way you say my name. Say it again.”
“Dante,” I say, and I feel like I’m begging and praying all at the same time.
His mouth releases my nipple with a little “pop,” and then he’s licking his way down my stomach until he’s kneeling in front of me. My hands are on his shoulders, still, then I’m gripping his hair as he starts nibbling on the curve of my hip.
“No, this won’t do. Very distracting, with the way you’re tugging my hair, Samantha.”
“I— I’m sorry,” I manage. He rises and looks me over, and then he seems to come to a decision.
“Over here,” he says, leading me to one corner of the bed, the tall wooden post of the four-poster bed at my back. “Put your hands up and hold the post. Don’t let go.”
The tone in his voice leaves no room for argument, and I can’t think straight anyway, so I do it, raising my hands and gripping the smooth wood of the bed post.
“Fuck,” he growls, and the hungry look in his eyes has my stomach twisting. I can only imagine what I look like, my hair messed up and falling over my shoulders, my breasts thrust out at him from the way I’m standing, gripping the bed post, wearing nothing but these ridiculous tiny red panties and the red spiky heels I wore to the gala.
“Spread your legs a little,” he growls, and I do. I’m blushing, nearly mortified at the wanton way I know I look, but I don’t even think of saying no. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Dante to touch me again.
“Good, Samantha,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
And then he’s in front of me again, placing hot kisses over my stomach, my hips. I can feel him biting at the side of my panties, taking the flimsy fabric between his teeth, then nibbling his way along my hipbone. He’s on his knees, his face right at level with my pussy, which is throbbing, aching. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, and there’s only a second to be mortified at the thought that I bet he can see it, soaking through my panties, when he places his mouth over my silk-clad mound. I give a startled, needy cry at the sensation, and I feel like I’m going to come right then and there. He’s licking my pussy through the silk of my panties, long strokes that have me thrusting my hips forward, needing more of him. He pushes his tongue, hard, right to my clit and I scream, falling apart at the sensation, bucking my hips forward. He keeps licking me as I ride out my orgasm, and then I’m weak, aching, able to stand only because I’m holding on to the bed and because he’s forcing me to stay up, his face still pressed to my body.
“That was fucking perfect. You’re so sensitive,” he growls against me, and I whimper as he takes the edge of my panties in his hand and rips them off. The cool air hits my tender pussy and I try to close my legs.
“No. I’m not done with you yet.”
He lowers me to the bed, my ass at the edge of the mattress. He pushes my thighs open, spreading me out before him, and he looks his fill with that hungry look in his eyes.
“That was only a little taste. Now I’m really going to enjoy you. Keep those legs wide open for me, Samantha.”
All I can do is nod, and then his warm hands are on my inner thighs, keeping me spread open, and he gives my pussy one long, firm lick, all along my slit, and I scream at the sensation against my sensitive pussy. He does it again, and again, and then his tongue traces around my entrance and I try to close my legs, unable to take the intensity of it anymore.
“Samantha,” he says in a warning tone, and I open my thighs again. He goes back to work, circling my clit with his tongue, and it feels like all I can do is moan his name, over and over and over again. My hands have found my breasts, and I’m squeezing my nipples the way he did.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, and I look down to see him watching me. “Don’t stop, baby. Keep doing that.”
I obey, and I’m rewarded a moment later when he slides one thick finger inside me. He pumps it a few times, and when he adds a second, I know I’m close to falling apart again. He’s thrusting in and out of me, pumping his fingers into my aching pussy, his eyes on me as I pinch and pull my nipples.
“Fuck, Samantha. You’re so hot and tight. I can’t wait to sink my cock into you. I’m gonna fuck this sweet pussy so hard you’re going to be feeling me for days afterward.”
I whimper, and he laughs, that low, dangerous laugh again.
“You want that, don’t you, Samantha?” he asks, still pumping his fingers into me.
“Yes, Dante.”
“So good. You’re so good,” he murmurs, and then he adds his mouth to the torture, his fingers pumping into me harder and faster, and then he sucks my clit into his mouth and I scream as another orgasm tears through me. Just as that one falls away, another one builds, and I come, screaming and thrashing, and he’s still going, his fingers and mouth ceaseless in their delicious assault on my body.
“Please. Oh, god, please. I can’t take anymore,” I beg. “It’s too much.”
He pumps his fingers into me a few more times, kisses my pussy, and then backs up.
“I need you now,” he growls. “Get up there,” he says, nodding toward the center of the bed. I quickly move, pulling the blankets back and lying on the silk sheets. I watch as he removes his clothes, revealing the most gorgeous, muscular body I’ve ever seen. I press my thighs together as a wave of nervousness washes through me. Despite all of the things he’s done to me, I still can’t quite believe I’m about to give my virginity to him.
When he pulls his pants and boxer briefs off, his cock springs free and all I can do is stare. It’s thick, long, and fully erect. I have no idea how I’m supposed to manage having something that big inside me.
***
Dante
The second Samantha’s gaze lands on my cock, I’m ready to blow my load. I’m not going to last long, but I’m sure as hell going to try. She is the sweetest, hottest, most responsive woman I’ve ever gone down on, and if she would have let me, I would have kept going.
At the same time, I’m physically in pain from needing to fuck her, especially after feeling how tight her pussy is, how hot and slick she’ll be for me.
She looks like pure sex, her dark hair spread over my pillows, her tits swollen from my attentions, her long, shapely legs stretched out in front of her. Though there’s still that innocence. Her thighs are tight together and her eyes are wide. She’s nervous, and something about that makes me want to fuck her all the harder. By the time I’m done with her, the last thing she’ll be is innocent.
“Open your legs, Samantha,” I command as I step over to the bed. She’d kicked her heels off, and I consider telling her that I didn’t tell her to do that.
I’ll give her a pass, this one time, especially when she spreads her legs so prettily for me.
“You’re so wet, baby. You want this so bad, don’t you?”
“Yes, Dante. Please,” she whispers, and I give a low chuckle.
“I love it when you beg me.”
I reach over to the nightstand and grab a condom out of the top drawer, then rip it open. She’s watching as I slide it down over my cock. She licks her lips, eyes wide, and I can’t help but give her a little more to see, pumping my hand once, twice, over my hard cock once the condom is on. She makes the sweetest little whimpering sound, and I grab her hips and pull her toward me.
“Watch, Saman
tha,” I tell her, and her eyes dip to where my dick is straining just outside her entrance. I give her pussy a gentle nudge and she gasps. I push into her, slowly, one torturous bit at a time, and she’s even tighter than I thought she’d be, her pussy gripping my cock in a way that nearly makes me dizzy.
I sink all the way into her with one hard, deep thrust, and she screams.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking good. I stay there for a while, pushed as far into her as I can go, feeling her sweet cunt clenching around me, listening to her as she moans beneath me.
I take her wrists in my hands and press them to the mattress on either side of her head, holding them there. Her eyes are wide, her tits bouncing as I start moving my hips, thrusting in and out of her, over and over and over again until it feels like my balls are going to explode. She’s crying out, begging, her pussy clenching tighter around me, and I know she’s close, but I need her closer.
I let go of one of her wrists and press my fingertips to her clit, rubbing her as I thrust into her, hard.
“Come for me now, Samantha,” I command. One thrust, two, and she’s squeezing my cock so hard I see stars, screaming into the penthouse as she has the most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever seen. I ride it out, barely hanging on. Once she’s spent, I lean down and kiss her.
“So perfect. So beautiful, Samantha,” I murmur. And then I can’t help myself anymore. I start hammering into her tight little pussy, harder, faster, out of my mind, unable to focus on anything other than how bad I need to come inside her. All I can do is grunt and growl like some kind of animal as I feel my orgasm building, and she’s screaming again, clenching hard around me, and I explode, coming harder than I’ve ever come in my life, thrusting into her sweet body over and over again until I’m finally spent. I collapse on top of her, both of us breathless, sweating. I can feel her heart pounding.
A moment later, I pull out of her and she moans. She’s so damn sensitive, so responsive to every touch, and that thought has me wanting to fuck her again. I quickly get up and throw the condom away, and by the time I turn back to the bed, her eyes are closed and her breathing is even, deep.
I’ve fucked my sweet little stripper right to sleep. I smile and settle into bed beside her, pulling her close before I drift away as well.
I wake up the next morning with an almost-painful hard on. Luckily, I know just what to do with it. I open my eyes and look for Samantha, but I find that I’m alone in bed. I can hear water splashing in my bathroom.
All right. Fine. I can wait a couple minutes.
I turn onto my side so that when she climbs back into bed, I’ll be ready to pull her close and get her warmed up for round two. I pull the blankets aside so she can slip right into bed beside me, and that’s when I see it.
I shake my head, but there’s no denying it. There are reddish-brown streaks of blood on the white sheets, right where Samantha was lying when I fucked her the night before.
My gut clenches and I feel like the air’s been knocked out of me. I don’t even have time to process it before I hear the bathroom door open.
I spin around and look at her. She's still naked, and despite how screwed up and pissed off I am just now, my cock twitches at the sight of her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I growl.
She freezes. “Tell you what?”
I point to the blood stains on the sheets. “You were a virgin, Samantha?”
She blushes and looks away.
“Samantha?” I demand, and she looks back at me.
“Yes.” Holy fuck. What the fuck did I do?
“You didn’t think that detail was worth sharing with me?” I ask.
“What does it matter?”
“It matters. You should have told me.” I can feel my rage rising, right along with the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like I can’t breathe, and the memories that flood my mind make me feel like I’m about to drown.
Her eyes flash. “When was I supposed to tell you, Dante? Huh? When you were licking and sucking me, or when you had your fingers inside me? Or maybe I should have told you before you shoved your dick all the way inside me. When the hell was I supposed to stop and say ‘oh, by the way, Dante, you’re going to be my first.’ And what do you care, anyway?” Her voice is raised, and even through my anger, I think that she’s gorgeous when she’s pissed.
“I don’t fuck virgins,” I snarl. I get out of bed and start pulling on my pants from the night before.
“What the hell kind of rule is that? And if it matters, you probably should have asked me.”
“Yeah, because I totally expect a twenty-one-year-old stripper and escort to be a virgin,” I spit at her, and she looks like I just slapped her. “I mean, who would expect a girl who takes her clothes off for strangers to be a virgin?” I know I’m making excuses and putting it all on her. I know I’m being a dick. I just don’t care.
“It clearly wasn’t something you were worrying about last night. You didn’t hesitate once. If it’s such an important rule, you should have made sure, huh?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight.” I pull my shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned, and then turn back to her. “That never should have happened.”
I see a flash of hurt in her eyes before she quickly glances away, and I hate myself a little bit.
“No, it shouldn’t have,” she says quietly.
“It won’t be happening again.”
“No, it most definitely will not.”
The prim, cool tone she uses makes me want to put my fist through the wall. She gathers her dress and shoes and quickly walks out, and I hear her padding down the hallway to her own room at the other end of the penthouse. Good.
I run my hands over my face in frustration, and when I look back down, my gaze lands on the tiny red panties I tore off of her last night after making her come in them. I look away as my stomach clenches.
Fuck.
I fucked up. She should have fucking told me, but she’s not wrong. I should have been more careful, too. I swore I’d never let myself get into this type of situation again, and here I am. And I’ve already hurt her feelings, even if she tried to hide it.
This is exactly why I hired her for a month. I didn’t want emotional bullshit. I wanted a sexy, gorgeous woman to decorate my arm at all of these events I have to attend in the next couple of weeks, without any expectation on her part about feelings or emotions or anything else.
Bullshit, a little voice mutters. You wanted her. You were being some kind of knight in shining armor, saving her from sleazy Harry and the other assholes who would have bid on her eventually. Because you wanted her.
I shove the thought away and stalk to the bathroom. I can still smell her all over my body. I need distance, and I need to focus on something else for a while. Because no matter how good Samantha tastes, no matter how good it felt to be inside her, I can’t let that happen again. I can’t let her start to get attached to me. I don’t work that way.
For about a half of a second, I consider just letting her have her money and go. Cut my losses. But I paid for this month, and I want my money’s worth.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth is, I’m not ready to have her walk away just yet.
Chapter Seven
Samantha
I manage not to cry until I step into the shower in my room. And it’s not sadness, but I know he’d think I’m crying over him, because he’s an asshole.
No, I’m one of those people who cry when I’m mad, and right now, I’m so angry I can barely see straight.
The gall of him! To act high and mighty and pissed at me because I didn’t tell him I was a virgin. As if that affects him in any way. My virginity was mine to give, and I was happy with my choice until he acted like a jerk this morning.
I scrub away the scent of him, even as my body still aches from the things he did to me last night. My breasts are tender and swollen, and when he said I was going to feel him inside me for days afterward, he wasn’t kidd
ing. As angry as I am with him just now, there’s also a part of me that wants to have him on top of me again.
Last night wasn’t like anything I could have ever imagined. The things he did to me with his lips, his tongue, his fingers… I’ve read about things like that, but having them done to me is something else entirely. I felt almost dirty, especially when he looked up after licking me to orgasm and I could see that his mouth and chin were coated in my juices. But he didn’t give me a chance to obsess over it, and the second his dick slid into me, I couldn’t think at all.
It hurt like hell at first, when he pushed his way into me. But then, all I could focus on was how damn good it felt, feeling him filling me over and over again. My first time had been perfect.
Until this morning, anyway.
If I didn’t need this money to save my father, I’d be out the door already. I know I’ll never have another chance like this. He didn’t tell me to get out, so I guess I’m not fired. Good. I’ll make sure I get my money. I can do this, as long as he doesn’t touch me again.
I wash each part of my body, as if by letting last night swirl down the drain, I can regain some sense of sanity and dignity. I’m mortified if I let myself think about it too much, about the way I was for him, opening my legs on command, begging him. I was out of my mind, and it’s not something I’ll let happen again.
When I’m dressed and my hair is dry and I’ve put on my makeup, I square my shoulders and open my bedroom door. I need coffee and I’m starving, and I’m not going to hide from Dante. He can toss blame around all he wants, but I didn’t do a damn thing wrong and I know it.
When I enter the main part of the penthouse, he’s sitting at the long dining room table, looking at his phone, papers and blueprints spread out on the table in front of him. I walk into the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee, then grab a croissant from the tray nearby. I bring them both to the other end of the table and sit down, pulling my own phone out of my pocket.
I start scrolling through my messages and email. Nothing too important. A few casting calls I’m probably going to miss, thanks to my contract with Dante this month. If I have my way, we won’t be in San Francisco much longer anyway.