When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

A shudder rippled through me so hard, my teeth chattered.

“Bellissima,” he hissed as he shot a look over at my prone posture. “What a gorgeous cunt you have, Elena. So pink and glistening like a rose with morning dew. I want to lick all that wet up with my tongue.”

“I wish you would,” I panted softly.

“Another time,” he promised. “Now, I want you to keep those nice, light touches on your throbbing clit and use your other hand to fuck yourself.”

There was a wet noise as I did as he told me, two fingers dipping into the well of moisture at my entrance and sliding deep. I was swollen from Dante’s driving cock battering my walls, but my fingers felt good, soothing the ache he’d left.

“Think of our stay here like a vacation,” he urged me as I churned my fingers inside myself, swirled my fingertip over my clit and he drew those lazy, agonizing circles on my knee.

He was winding me up like a toy doll and any moment I was going to release in a flurry of movement and sound.

“I’m going to use every day to fuck you so often, you’ll want me to stop even as you beg me for more. I’m going to teach you how fucking beautiful you are in every single iteration I can think of. Your pert arse in the air as I fuck you from behind and spank your bottom as red as your mouth. Your breasts when I twist and tease your nipples into aching points. Maybe I’ll clamp them when we put the washing out on the line, tie you up like a sheet by the wrists and put clothespins on those red peaks.”

I gasped at the audacity of his imagination. He was so dirty, so uninhibited and confident in his desires. So dominate there was no room for me to question him or myself for wanting to enact those dangerous fantasies with him.

“It’s so wrong,” I whispered through dry lips as my orgasm tangled all my senses into a single pulsating awareness between my thighs.

“No, Elena, nothing is wrong between us. You spread open for me, playing for me, all of it is only ever right,” he declared imperviously.

And then his hand was moving up the inside of my thigh, tickling and tingling. I held my breath, heart thundering in my chest as his touch hesitated at the junction of my leg and groin then went arrowing down to the fingers filling my sex.

“Are you still tight, nice and swollen? Or loose and eager to be filled?” he asked.

I was too out of it to realize we had stopped moving, that he’d pulled off the highway onto a hill and parked beneath a massive, budding bougainvillea shrub.

“Filled,” I admitted on a ragged exhale. “I wish you’d slide inside me and fill me up properly.”

“Come vuoi,” he muttered.

As you wish.

A moment later, he wedged two thick fingers at my already filled entrance and pressed them in alongside my own.

A wrecked groan shuddered through my chest and filled the car as I slammed my head back against the seat at the overwhelming sensation.

“Yes,” he murmured again and again in English and Italian as he set a punishing rhythm, dragging my own fingers in and out alongside his. “So beautiful like this. So mine.”

It was the mine that broke me.

All I’d wanted my whole life was to be seen and loved all the way to my bones.

And there he was, this big beast of a brutal man who was everything soft and kind for me and he was teaching me something I’d never really known.

Pleasure.

Mind boggling, body bending pleasure that made every self-loathing, critical thought I’d ever had evaporate in the steam of the flames erupting at my core.

I groaned and gasped and chanted Dante’s name the way most Italian’s prayed to Madonna and God. He kept touching me, gentle twists of the fingers inside me, increasingly light circles over my clit because I’d stopped the movements during my climax. He wrung pleasure from me like wet from a towel until I was limp, utterly boneless in my seat.

“That’s my girl,” Dante praised, his voice thick with lust and pride as he collected my tired hand and brought it to his mouth.

I watched from under heavy lids as he carefully cleaned each of my fingers in his mouth. His tongue curled over every digit, full lips wrapped tight around me. My tired, lightly aching pussy spasmed at the erotic sight.

“You taste like sea,” he told me on a growling hum when he was finished meticulously cleaning me off. Then, he took my hand and pressed it to the iron length of his erection trapped in his trousers. “Feel what you do to me. I’ve been this hard since the moment you spread your legs for me.”