Page 127 of Dante

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And I smile.

"You have a big opinion of yourself."

"No," he says. "I just have a big dick."

A laugh escapes me.

Then I stop laughing.

Because I'm reaching for him.

My fingers wrap around his shaft.

He's hot. Burning hot. The skin is smooth over the hardness underneath. I can feel his pulse throbbing against my palm.

I don't put my mouth on him.

Not yet.

I just stroke.

Slow. From base to tip. Learning the feel of him. The weight. The way his cock twitches in my grip when I squeeze.

Dante's head falls back.

"Fuck."

The word comes out strangled. Desperate.

I stroke him again. Twist my wrist at the top. Run my thumb over the wet slit.

His hips jerk forward.

"Cazzo," he hisses. "Marina."

He groans.

I keep stroking. Slow and steady. Watching his reactions. The way his abs clench. The way his hands curl into fists at his sides. The way his jaw tightens like he's fighting for control.

I've never felt this powerful.

Never felt like I could bring a man to his knees with just my hand.

But Dante looks like he's about to shatter.

"Stop," he says suddenly.

My hand freezes.

"Stand up."

The way he says it makes me obey without thinking. I release his cock and rise from the couch.

Dante sits down in the spot I just vacated.

His wound must hurt. He doesn't show it.

He reaches for me.

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