ARIA
I’m still trembling from the second orgasm when he pulls out abruptly, leaving me empty and gasping against the cold glass. My palms squeak as I try to push upright, thighs shaking, p***y clenching around nothing.
Dante’s hands grip my hips and flip me like I weigh nothing. Suddenly, I’m sitting on the edge of the desk, trench coat and shirt shoved open, breasts spilling out, legs spread wide by his rough palms, exposing every inch of my p***y, and suddenly he spits (hot, deliberate) right onto my swollen c**t. The filthy sound alone makes me clench around nothing more.
He drops to his knees.
The sight of Dante Ashford (billionaire, predator, the man who just had half the FBI raiding Marcus’s apartment) on his knees between my thighs steals every ounce of air from my lungs.
His m
