Old Flame: Dante’s Story: (Morelli Family, #8)

by Mariano, Sam

  Shit. I do want that, but I don’t want to want that, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “I swear to God, if you don’t speak in the next three seconds, I’ll use your pussy to get myself off and I won’t let you have yours.”

  My heart gallops again. I open my mouth to speak, but I’ve held out this long. I can’t give in now. I can’t.

  “Dante, please,” I mutter, holding onto the couch as he fingers me.

  “You know what I want to hear. Say it now, or it’ll be too late.”

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My heart races and my pussy throbs as his fingers stroke it, as if to say, “Tell him what he wants to hear, you crazy bitch!”

  But I can’t. I just can’t.

  It’s only a few seconds that I hold my silence, but they stretch on forever. My silence says a lot right now, and none of it is what Dante wants to hear.

  “Fine,” he clips, pulling his fingers out of my body.

  My pussy immediately clenches around the absence, but I’m not empty for long. I nearly sob with relief when Dante finally shoves his cock inside me, but my relief is short-lived. It lasts about as long as it takes him to pump inside me four times—first just opening me up to take all of his cock, second pushing a little harder and going deep. The third pump is more brutal, but the fourth is so merciless, he nearly knocks me over the arm of the couch.

  Fuck yes.

  That’s the speed and hardness he decides he likes, so the next several thrusts are just as hard to take. I gasp and hold on tight as his fingers dig into my hips, as he pounds his cock into me like he’s trying to throw me on the floor. The powerful way he fucks me is incredible, but it makes me feel so off balance. My tenuous grip on the couch is nothing compared to the force he’s putting behind every thrust, but I know he won’t let go of me, so I know I’m not really in danger of falling.

  There are no more tender words, no more teasing words, not even more taunting words. He’s done speaking to me, using his voice to add to my enjoyment of the experience. He no longer wants me to enjoy it because I didn’t play by his rules. It’s impossible not to feel pleasure as he rams that thick, hard cock of his inside me, but no matter how overwhelmingly incredible every stroke feels physically, mentally I know the boundaries. Mentally I know that I’m allowed to have as much pleasure as it naturally gives me to give his body pleasure, but when all this is over, unless he tells me I can, I won’t be able to come.

  I want to cry thinking about it, but I don’t think he’ll be that mean. I may not have submitted to him completely, but I gave him more than I meant to.

  He fucks me forever. It feels so good now, but every thrust is so brutal, so aggressive, I know I’ll be sore for a couple days after he finishes with me. He fills my pussy full of his cock again and again, then finally grabs a fistful of my hair, shoves deep into my body, and unloads his cum inside me as he growls with pleasure. A shudder of pleasure ripples up my spine as he thrusts me back down on his cock a few more times, pumping every last bit of his release inside me.

  I close my eyes and sigh, so full of him even as he slowly slides his cock out of me. My body is wound so tight, my need to come every bit as strong as his.

  I wait for him to touch my aching pussy again, to find my clit and finger me until I’m crying out and my legs are shaking, until my body is as satisfied as his.

  But he doesn’t. He climbs off the couch and starts getting redressed.

  Still breathing rather heavily, I look back over my shoulder at him. I haven’t abandoned my perch on the couch, and I’m so tense with need, I’m ready to start rubbing myself against that if he doesn’t get over here and give me something to get off on.

  “Dante.”

  He looks up at me as he straightens. He knows what I want, but rather than give it to me, he slips his dress shirt on and begins buttoning it, waiting for me to tell him.

  “Please. I need to come.”

  Dante shakes his head. “You should have thought about that when I gave you the chance.”

  “Please,” I cry more desperately, moving my hips against nothing.

  “No.”

  I want to rebel. I want to slide my own hand between my thighs and rub myself until I come, but I know he won’t let me. He won’t even have to physically stop me. When we were together before, he had me trained well enough to know having an orgasm once he had forbidden it was absolutely not acceptable. I developed a mental block. I even tried to get myself off in bed one night when he denied me. He lay there next to me in the dark, watching me desperately rubbing myself. The lack of concern on his face ramped up my anxiety. I thought he should be mad I was disobeying him, but it wasn’t until I rubbed myself completely dry and still hadn’t come that I learned what he already knew—if he said no, my body would listen to him, whether I wanted it to or not.

  He is already dividing us, my body and my mind. My mind knows I’m trying to do the right thing, but my body has abandoned the cause to flock back to its master. It doesn’t care if he’s a soulless murderer, it only cares that he knows exactly how to make it purr like a kitten.

  I’m fucked, and not in the fun way.

  Just the thought that he’s fucked me over so thoroughly makes me wetter. It shouldn’t since he’s not on my side, but my stupid body doesn’t believe that. My stupid body believes what it believed before—that he always ultimately has my best interests at heart, and if he wants to fuck with me, he knows best and somehow it is at least in part for my enjoyment, too.

  The aching need between my thighs makes me squeeze them together, needing pressure and friction. “Dante, please,” I say again. “I’ll do it myself, just tell me I can come. Please.”

  Now fully dressed, Dante walks around the couch until he’s in front of me. He tips my chin up to bring my gaze, cloudy with lust, to his—clear, firm, and satisfied since he got to come. “No,” he says, immovably. “Next time you think about defying me, remember how you feel right now and don’t.”

  Then he drops my clothes onto the couch behind me, but it may as well be a pail of cold water he tosses over my head. I sink down and bury my face in a decorative pillow, so deeply disappointed, and so ashamed of myself for feeling that way.

  20

  Colette

  Toying with me the way he did makes me docile for the rest of the night. We watch another movie that I hope will distract me, but it takes a while for my arousal to subside. Even when it does and I can finally focus, Dante—the evil bastard—reaches over and runs his hand up the inside of my thigh. Each time he teases me, his fingers floating so high I’m straining to hold it together by the time they nearly reach my pussy… but then he stops, draws his hand away, and leaves me a needy, disappointed mess all over again.

  All I can think about is being fucked. I already was fucked, but I didn’t get to finish, so I want it again. Need it again. All I can think about through 80% of the movie is scenario after scenario where I can get his attention, get his cock hard, get him needy enough to ignore his stupid stipulation and just give it to me.

  Unfortunately, I know it’s impossible. Dante doesn’t lose his mind during sex. Maybe when he comes, but I’m not sure. I’m usually too preoccupied with my own orgasm, but even when I’m preoccupied with his, I have no idea if he maintains all his mental faculties during. I sure don’t, and frankly I wouldn’t want to. I love letting go and giving everything up to my partner, and because I love it so much, tonight is absurdly hard. I’m denying both of us what we want and it sucks.

  The movie ends and Dante starts shutting off lights, so I guess it’s bedtime. I almost get excited thinking about climbing into bed together. I’ll take a shower and climb into bed naked. Then I’m going to wiggle my ass against him “by accident” until he has to fuck me again. Even if he won’t let me get off, I’ll get the steadier, less explosive pleasure of feeling him move inside my body while he chases his own orgasm.

  Back in the day, I enjoyed pleasuring him as much as I enjoyed getting my own. I lov
ed making him come, loved every moment leading up to him coming. I don’t know if it’s accurate to say he trained me to enjoy servicing him no matter the circumstances, or if I was predisposed to that already and maybe that’s why I was so crazily attracted to him.

  Mateo flits across my mind and on a stroke of masochistic genius, I consider using it. If I’m feeling really brave, I could mention the times Mateo got me off without making me ask nicely.

  That might be too far. It’s pretty mean, but Dante’s pretty mean, too. Fuck him. Also, if I get him mean enough, he will definitely fuck me. He can’t hit me, so when he’s profoundly pissed off, he takes it out on my vagina and I love every brutal second of it.

  Yep, I’m gonna do it.

  I tell myself that the whole time I’m showering. I entertain myself with a scenario where I completely win this fight, where I launch my Mateo missile and make him so irrationally angry, he does lose his mind. His manly pride wounded, he needs to make me come. In fact, he needs to make me come several times just to make sure any orgasms Mateo gave me years ago are completely wiped from my memory.

  Shower Colette is firmly convinced she has a good idea, but when I get back to the bedroom, Dante looks irritable. I wondered why he didn’t join me in the shower—mostly because I wanted him to. I had another shower fantasy of him joining me just to make sure I was behaving myself and not trying to get myself off, but then once he’s in there soaping me up, his cock can’t be denied and he fucks me again.

  All my fantasies end the same way tonight. Not very prolific with the endings, but I can’t think about anything else.

  Unfortunately, shower Colette’s naughty plans to get fucked crash and burn when I hear an irritable Dante barking into his cell phone. He glances up when I come into the room, then wanders out into the hallway for some privacy. He lowers his voice now that I’m around, but I can still hear the aggravated hum through the wall.

  Well, shit. Aggravated Dante isn’t the one I want, mean Dante is the one I need.

  And it is a need at this point. He’s made me feel so needy tonight, and I hate it. Not just physically. When he makes me need him physically, he makes me need him in every other way, that’s the problem with him. When we were together, I thought the problem was with me, I thought my sexuality had become so entwined with my emotions, I couldn’t fuck without falling in love.

  Then I left Dante, and that turned out not to be true. The opposite was true. It was like not having Dante’s permission to orgasm; I could sleep with Declan 84,000 times, but I could not open the chamber of my heart to him that Dante had unfettered access to. I convinced myself that was because of all I went through with Dante, convinced myself that chamber simply didn’t open anymore because he had demolished it… but now here it is, cracking open a mere week after he murdered my fiancé.

  It’s a hard thing to accept that Dante owns exclusive rights to an important part of me, but I remember feeling emptier without him. I remember feeling like I had become a colder person, unable to truly love, unable to connect and attach and be vulnerable. I thought he had broken me, rendered me unable to feel those things, but maybe he only ruined me. Maybe he only made it impossible for me to feel those things for anyone else.

  That’s where my head is at when his phone call ends. I’m trapped somewhere between resentment and reluctant admiration. I don’t know how he manages it, but he truly is an incredible man. A bad one, but incredible all the same.

  I’m perched on the edge of the bed, wearing only a fluffy white bath towel, when Dante comes back into the bedroom. He spares me a glance on his way over to his side of the bed. He plugs his cell phone charger in and puts the phone down, so he must be finished with it for tonight.

  “Was that a work call?”

  Amusement flits across his face, but he doesn’t quite smile. “Worried I’m sharing my dick with other women?”

  The mere thought sours my stomach, but I don’t think I have to be worried about that. Granted, I don’t know where he goes all day, but I never did, and I was never worried he would be unfaithful. “I imagine if you were still fucking other women, you wouldn’t be so intent on encouraging me to stay. If you could replace me so easily, you would have by now.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, starting to unbutton his dress shirt.

  Rather than waste time arguing over something I get annoyed thinking about, I tug off my towel and drop it onto the floor. Bare naked, I crawl across the bed and stop on his side, spreading my legs once I’m in front of him. Just feeling his narrowed eyes on me makes me wet, so when I sink a finger inside myself, it comes out glistening with my desire.

  Then I slide off the edge of the bed and stand right in front of him, pushing up on my tiptoes. I run my thumb over Dante’s full lower lip, then push my wet finger into his mouth. His lips close around it greedily, taking it to the knuckle, licking and sucking every drop of arousal off my finger.

  “Want some more?” I offer.

  He pulls my finger out of his mouth and smiles at me, a real smile. “You don’t like being hard up all night, do you?”

  “No,” I admit, winding one arm around his neck, dragging the other down his muscular chest. “But I do like when you eat my pussy.”

  “I bet you do,” he says, amused. “Unfortunately, I already ate your pussy tonight.”

  “I’ll let you have seconds,” I assure him.

  “Oh, how generous,” he teases, bending his head to nip at my jawline, lightly dragging his teeth, then bending lower to kiss my neck while he covers one of my breasts with his palm. “You know what, though? I don’t think it’d be fair for me to take seconds when you haven’t even had firsts.”

  “You want me to suck your dick?” I ask, dragging my nails lightly down his chest. Without waiting for a response, I sink to my knees, unbuckling his belt with eager fingers. I look up at him as I work it free and toss it aside. I can feel desire leaking out of me, so I know how I must look on my knees for him, taking his pants off. He knows I’m hungry for his cock, and I’ve been too horny for too long now to pretend otherwise.

  I sigh with pleasure as I take him out. I love Dante’s cock and I’ve missed Dante’s cock, so I can’t help leaning in and giving it a kiss. One kiss leads to a trail of them and before I know it, I’m balanced on my knees and the tips of my toes, both hands under Dante’s beautiful dick, kissing my way up and down its veined length. I love the challenge of giving him head, but he’s so thick, I know my jaw will be aching in just a couple of minutes.

  Still, I’m eager and wanting when I take his cock into my mouth. He groans lowly, raking a hand through my dark hair, but his touch is tender to let me know he’s pleased. His gesture of approval shoots through my veins like a drug that will undoubtedly ruin my life.

  Once he’s in my mouth, I shift my position slightly and brace a hand on his hip. I close my eyes and get lost in the back-and-forth rhythm as I take his cock deeper and deeper until he’s in my throat. I struggle a bit at first because it has been so long, but my throat remembers after only a moment. A salty drop of pre-cum gathers on the head of his cock and I draw back, grasping him in my hand and running the flat of my tongue over him to lick it off. I take him back into my mouth again, feeling more wetness gather between my thighs as I suck him hungrily. Even after my jaw begins to ache, I suck and I suck and I suck. I don’t stop until Dante gathers my hair in a loose ponytail in his hand and yanks me back.

  I look up at him in question. My jaw aches, but I’ll happily suck him more if he wants me to.

  “You’ve earned your treat,” he says lightly, a little playfully, and my insides fill up with happiness.

  “You’ll let me come?” I ask, as I sit back down on the edge of the bed.

  “You want my cock, don’t you? It feels good inside you?”

  I don’t fail the test this time. “It feels incredible. I’m empty without you inside me, Dante.”

  “Mm, good girl,” he purrs, caressing the side of my face before dro
pping to his knees.

  I could die of happiness as he spreads my thighs and buries his face between them. I think I will as I claw at the bed, rocking my hips desperately, trying to get closer to his face as he licks and sucks and chases me toward an orgasm. Finally, my world rips apart and I get lost down the jagged center, sinking to the underworld in a free-fall of bliss.

  Dante kisses me on the pussy as he stands back up. He puts my legs down gently since I’m too weak to move, but instead of moving, he remains between my spread legs and grasps the cock I made hard. He positions it at my entrance, then moves his hand to grip my hip. He wraps his other hand around my throat.

  Since my pussy was just used a little bit ago and he knows I’ve spent most of the time wet, he doesn’t bother easing in the first time. His fingers dig into my hip and he thrusts me down onto his cock at the same time he rams his hips forward. I cry out from the pleasure of the impact, reaching above me for purchase, but there’s nothing to hold on to.

  Well, there is something. I hold on to Dante’s strong forearm, the one attached to the hand he has wrapped around my throat. I hold on for dear life, watching him, barely ever breaking his gaze as he does it again and again, doing the work for both of us and fucking me so hard the bed moves with every thrust.

  “Who owns this beautiful body, Colette?” he asks as he drives into me.

  I’m too afraid he’ll stop if I don’t tell him what he wants to hear, and I want to say it too much beside the point. On a harshly drawn breath, I tell him, “You do.”

  “That’s right,” he says, rewarding me with another brutal thrust. “I do.”

  My back is starting to burn from the back-and-forth friction over the bedsheets, but I don’t complain. This is the most connected I’ve felt to Dante since before Beth died, and I don’t care if it’s toxic, I want to enjoy every second I’m held captive by his intensity.

  Whether it’s from the orgasm denial earlier, the connection I’m feeling now, or some combination of both, I come twice while he fucks me. I come so hard and for so long the second time, I think I might cry, and still it takes him several more pumps into my overly stimulated body before he explodes inside me. I watch him come, still dazed from my own orgasm, but it feels so satisfying when he empties himself inside me. The inside of my body is temporarily fulfilled, but now the rest of it needs affection.