Page 53 of The Rival's Obsession
His hand slides up from my breast, past the chain at my collarbone, and curls around my throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to let me feel it.
“You close?” he rasps, eyes blazing down at me.
I nod. Whisper, “Yes.”
He tightens his grip.
My breath catches, my body instinctively tightening around him. The edges of my vision blur, and the pleasure spikes. My pulse pounds beneath his fingers.
And just when I think I’ll come anyway—he lets go.
I gasp, air rushing in, and the orgasm fizzles out, leaving me whimpering.
“Not yet,” he says. “Again.”
He does it again.
And again.
I’m soaked. Shaking. My body begging while he controls every second of it.
When he finally lets me come, it’s with his hand around my throat, cock driving deep, and his words growled against my ear: “Now,piccola.”
“Choke my dick with your tight pussy, baby.”
My release slams over me—blinding and full—and just as it begins to crest, he tugs the chains and removes the nipple clamps in one fast, practiced flick.
“Ah—fuck!” I cry out, the sharp sting turning instantly into another wave of pleasure, rolling right over the last one like a thunderclap.
I don’t even have time to breathe before he’s fucking me through it, controlling every pulse, every contraction. My mind blanks. I don’t know my own name.
I barely register the next—until he finally, finally reaches between us and slides the clit clamp off.
And then I see stars.
My body convulses, hands clawing at his back as I scream his name, my legs trembling with the aftershocks. My vision goes white. I am undone.
I’ve had every kind of sex imaginable. Every kind of orgasm, too. But nothing has ever shattered me like this.
Never so hard it feels like dying and being reborn at once.
I barely register the sound of his groan, the way his hips stutter, the chains still taut around my neck as he pulls them, anchoring himself to me while his own release takes him.
His body is over mine. Our breaths heavy, faces so close our noses brush each other.
“Perfect.” He steps back first.
Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s tasting what’s left of control.
Then he reaches for his bourbon like we didn’t just fuck the world sideways.
I let out a stunned laugh, dragging a hand down my face. “Jesus, Dante. That was… I mean, I’ve been fucked—but that?” I shake my head, lips curving. “That was criminal.”
He smirks, chest still rising and falling. Doesn’t even try to deny it.
I roll toward him, voice low and teasing. “How many rounds can you go?”
He reaches for his bourbon, takes a slow sip, and meets my gaze like he’s already inside me again.
