Page 179 of Dante

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I'm losing control.

Can feel it slipping away.

My movements become erratic. Desperate. I'm grinding down on him, taking him as deep as I can, chasing the pleasure building inside me.

"That's it." His thumb finds my clit. Presses. Circles. "Come for me."

I shatter.

The orgasm rips through me like lightning.

I scream.

Louder than before.

Louder than I've ever screamed in my life.

My walls clench around him, pulsing, squeezing. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. I can't stop. Can't control it. Can't do anything except ride it out.

Dante watches me.

His eyes never leave my face.

"Again," he says.

I'm still trembling.

Still coming down.

"What?"

"I want to hear that again." He thrusts up into me, and I gasp. "Want to hear you scream my name."

"I can't?—"

"You can."

He flips us.

Careful of his wound but fast. Efficient. Suddenly I'm on my back and he's above me, still buried inside me, and his eyes are wild.

"You can," he repeats. "And you will."

Dante

I flip us.

The movement sends fire through my side. My stitches scream. I don't care.

Marina's beneath me now. Hair spread across the pillow. Chest heaving. Eyes wide and dark with want.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Dante, your wound?—"

"Don't care."

I pull out slowly. Watch her face. Watch the way her lips part. The way her breath catches.

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