30. Zola

Chapter 30

Zola

T he dryer came to life and drove away the strained silence of the room. I watched his reflection in the glass of the windows.

I found myself enjoying the sensual almost hypnotic feel of his hands moving on my scalp. It was very subtly done with no expertise, but with a tenderness that I would not have expected from a cold hard man like him.

When the hairdryer was turned off, I didn’t turn to look at him. Our eyes met in our reflections.

“I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl, Dante. I’m a grown woman. No one is going to get hurt. It’s just sex. Nothing more. My father loved us both and he would never deny either of us this brief fling before we go our separate ways."

His body stilled, and for a few seconds, he did nothing. Then I turned and he reached out and touched my bottom lip as if he couldn’t believe I was real.

“I know I shouldn’t, but you’re so beautiful I can’t help myself,” he whispered more to himself than me.

“Don’t think of me as Marco Leone’s daughter. I’m just a woman in a hotel room in London.”

His eyes moved from my lip up to my eyes and we stared at each other. I thought I saw something like pain cross his features. He remained still and shut his eyes as if he was praying to his God.

When he opened his eyes, he was different. “Just sex?”

“A brief fling before we go our separate ways,” I confirmed.

Turning around he walked towards the bed. With his back to me, his hand pulled at his belt as he began to undress until all that was left was his briefs.

My breath caught in my throat as he pulled them down, revealing his perfectly shaped butt. I’d felt the tight cheeks the previous night, but seeing his nakedness in this way was far more erotic.

He pulled the covers back and sat on the bed.

“Come here,” he said. Two simple words, but the command was unmistakable.

I got to my feet. My freshly dried hair bounced as I went to him. Stopping in front of him I loosened the sash of my robe. He seized the edges of the soft fabric and gently pulled me toward him. My body tingled with anticipation. The warm glow from the lamps cast a romantic glow over him and made his eyes seem soft and sensual … and the silence was the perfect complement to the tension and heat we both felt.

Or maybe it was just him … the longer I stared at him the more convinced I was that there was something about him that completely captured my senses and made me so acutely aware of him it was impossible to think of anything else.

I lifted my hand and slid it into his hair.

I was unable to resist the silky feel and the sense of power it gave me to see the intimidating man lean into my touch. There was a connection here and whether it was the grief we both shared or something beyond it I couldn’t tell. But what I did know was this felt too beautiful, too precious. Too much like … making love and I didn’t want it to continue in that way. I didn’t want him to care. I didn’t want to care. I wanted him to be a touch brutal when he took me.

I pulled my hand out of his hair, placed it against his chest and pushed him backward hard, but it was like pushing a granite wall. He cocked his head as if he was wondering what I was doing.

I put both my hands on him and pushed him again, but still, he didn’t budge, and it became a challenge. The third time, however, he caught my wrist, and I looked up to see the slight frown between his brows. I was almost tempted then to reach forward to kiss the crease away, but I stopped myself just in time.

I tried to pull my hand away but he didn’t budge and kept staring into my eyes.

“Don’t make love to me, Dante. Fuck me hard.”

“How hard?” he rasped.

“Do your worst.”

For a while, he continued to stare into my eyes, his expression searching, and then he moved, so fast I squealed with shock as he caught me by the waist and dumped me on the bed as if I weighed nothing.

“Your scent has been driving me insane all fucking night,” he growled.

My robe had come open but before I could take it off, he loomed over me.

“Open your legs,” he snarled.

I spread my thighs.

“Wider,” he ordered and his eyes were blazing with deep desire. I could hardly believe this was the same man who had dined with me. I never knew this beast lived inside the expensively suited man.

Excitement coursed through my veins as I obeyed, but it was not to his satisfaction. Roughly, he jerked my legs wider still so I was completely exposed, and looked down at my flushed, open sex with naked hunger.

He swiped his finger through the wet curls of flesh and smeared the slickness he had gathered onto my lips. I was so shocked I froze.

“Lick it,” he commanded.

I slipped my tongue out and did as he instructed.

He gathered more juices and smeared my lips again. He dipped his hard fingers into my mouth and made me suck my own juices off them.

“You look beautiful like that,” he growled, his eyes were glazed, half-closed.

I tried to sit up and was rewarded with a punishing kiss. His mouth crushed as his tongue demanded entry into my mouth. I sucked it and instantly forgot anything else existed other than our joined mouths.

By the time he released me, I was gasping for air.

His body pressed me relentlessly into the bed and the strength that he exuded was something I knew to never again take lightly. I couldn’t move an inch.

I got what I wanted. I was his prisoner.

His hands closed around my breasts and he began to massage the full and heavy mounds. Suddenly, he seized my right nipple and pinched it cruelly between his finger and thumb. An involuntary hiss of pain tore out of me. He pinched the other engorged bud and I cried out sharply, but I didn’t tell him to stop. Again and again, he pinched making me clench my teeth as my nerve endings became more and more sensitive. My nipples felt as if they were on fire when he pressed my breasts together and his lips closed around each hardened aroused peak.

The pull of pleasure made my sex clench, and my body arched, pushing my breasts out. My nipples, obscenely hard and wet, were pointing at him, begging for his cruel mouth. They were so swollen I squirmed even when his hot breath struck them.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

As soon as the words left my mouth, he stopped. I had crossed the threshold from pain to pleasure and his job was finished.

He moved downward and began to run his tongue down my body. I broke out in goosebumps as the wet trail inched down towards my sex. My heart was beating like a drum and my toes curled with anticipation.

It was pure torture.

I couldn’t hold back my cry when his velvet tongue finally reached the most private part of me. Without an ounce of gentleness, he thrust his large hands under my ass and, lifting me up, began to eat me out. I grabbed onto his hair and ground my pussy against his greedy mouth. He sucked my clit and my body shuddered at the sweet pleasure.

I let him do whatever he wanted with me and made noises I’d never made before, satisfied, inviting, animal sounds. I arched my body, spread my legs even more, wriggled, and thrust desperately against his mouth.

“Yes,” I hissed. I was so close. So close.

Pleasure, too much pleasure began to course through my body. I never wanted it to stop. I writhed uncontrollably in it. My body strained. I was choking. I couldn’t think. It felt so damn good.

“More, Dante. More.”

“Come in my mouth,” he ordered, and his voice was rich and dark.

My head swung from side to side. My breath stuttered. Then I came so hard, so explosively, I’d never have believed anyone could come like that. The waves of pleasure came and came. I screamed into the void and let it take me.

As I came back and my vision cleared, I saw Dante standing over me. His massive cock was already sheathed and it was bobbing between his muscular thighs. He grabbed me by my waist, flipped me over, and threw me on the mattress. Grabbing me by my hips he yanked me to my knees. Then he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back so I could see the blazing desire in his eyes.

“Still want me to do my worst?”

“Yes.”

He let go of my hair and pushed my head down so my hips and pussy were raised and totally exposed to him. Then he thrust his huge cock deep into my gushing pussy. He stretched me so much I felt as if he had split me in half. He didn’t stop until his pelvis slapped my ass. He growled as he rammed into my body, again and again, the wet slap of our skin echoing in the room. I was gasping, panting and whimpering as he manhandled me.

“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I saw you,” he muttered as he pounded into me.

My answer was a guttural grunt. It was all I could manage.

His hips sped up and he began to fuck me as if he was taking all his rage and frustrations out on my poor pussy … and I liked it.

I felt a twinge deep in my sex. My belly warmed. And the twinge happened again. A shiver ran through me. Something was happening to me. I was going to climax again. I rode the state between ecstasy and pain until my orgasm claimed me.

A howl escaped my open mouth.

It was wild and beautiful. By the time his release came, I could barely maintain consciousness. I struggled to push against him. He ground himself against me and curled his body over mine, rubbing my ass cheeks with his groin.

Finally, my brain came back to me, the tension dissipated and it was a great relief, but there was a vast emptiness left behind. All that stuff about ‘just sex’ and ‘being adults’ was horseshit. He wasn’t mine. He would never be mine.

I pulled away from his shrinking cock. Papa knew. This man was going to hurt me.