Savage Little Games: Chapter 25

The nighttime routine with Dante may have seemed like it was the normal routine for us, but it was obvious that things had changed.

In bed, pillows still separate us, but the urge to toss them aside to cuddle up with Dante, or do incredibly dirty things to him, is strong.

Still, he doesn’t initiate anything after turning the lights out, so I keep to my side of the bed.

Between my raging hormones and his constant flopping around, it’s impossible for me to fall asleep.

“Why are you still awake?” I ask him in the darkness.

The mafia king sighs heavily. “Too much shit on my mind. Why are you still awake?”

“Because you are,” I lie, unable to admit to him that I can’t stop thinking about last night in the club.

After a long, quiet moment, he asks, “Are you hungry?”

“I wouldn’t mind a midnight snack. What do you have?”

“Let’s go see. There’s no point in lying here any longer when sleeping is impossible.”

Since Dante doesn’t put any other clothes on with his black boxer briefs, I follow him out of the bedroom in just my panties and his oversized tee that comes down nearly to my knees.

The light over the stove is on, giving us enough light to see by, especially when Dante opens the refrigerator door.

“What are you in the mood for?” he says turning to ask me.

Sex is unfortunately my first thought.

“No clue,” I answer instead. Dante narrows his eyes at me like he knows I’m lying.

“Is that my shirt?”

Glancing down at the oversized tee, I tell him, “What do you think? The dresses you bought me are smaller.”

“I like seeing my shirt on you,” he says as he leaves the fridge open to turn to me. His big hands clasp either side of my waist before lifting me up and sitting me on the cool, flat granite surface of the kitchen island. “Sexier than any of that expensive lingerie.”

“Is that right?” I ask with a smile.

“Yes.” His gaze roams up and down me from my knees to my face several times before he clears his throat and goes back to the refrigerator. This time, he also opens the lower freezer drawer. “Ice cream?”

“Sure.”

“That was always the girls’ go to midnight snack whenever I caught them up late.” He removes a pint of ice cream, then reaches for a spoon from the nearby drawer.

After placing the lid of the container beside me on the island countertop, he digs the spoon into the top.

“Open up,” he says, holding the spoonful right in front of my mouth.

Shaking my head as I smile, I tell him, “You just enjoy controlling what I do with my mouth.”

“I do, but the only way you’re getting my ice cream tonight is if you do what I say.”

“What kind is it? Maybe it’s not worth the trouble.”

Holding the container up to the dim glow of light shining from underneath the cabinets to see the label, he says, “Eh, maybe not. It’s cookie dough.”

“That’s one of my favorites,” I admit before I open wide. Of course, Dante doesn’t immediately insert the spoon but lets me sit there, my barely covered ass on the countertop, lips parted wide for him. “Ass,” I say with a grin. I wrap my legs around the back of his to pull him close enough that I can reach the small pile of ice cream from the spoon.

“That’s cheating,” he remarks.

I shrug. “All is fair in war and ice cream fulfillment.”

We stare at each other for a silent moment before his lips lean forward to brush mine briefly. “What about love?”

“A man must have started that stupid saying because all is fair in love,” I assure him. Grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs, I pull him even closer. “Now give me some more of that fucking ice cream, or I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.”

“No, you won’t,” he says, but he surrenders the spoon and the pint to me. With his hands now free, they start sliding up my thighs while his damp lips make their way up my neck. “You want to ride on my dick at least once before you remove it. Admit it, butterfly. You’re half a breath away from begging me to put it inside of you.”

Between the ice cream melting on my tongue and his tongue on my skin, I’m not sure which I prefer.

“I’m not in the mood for ice cream tonight,” he says against the sensitive skin right below my ear.

“No?”

“No. I want to taste you instead.”

He wants to taste me? As in…

His hands slip underneath the hem of the tee, finding the waistband of my thong to pull it down my thighs, demonstrating exactly where he wants to taste me.

When he pushes the bottom of my shirt up to lower his lips to my thighs, he asks, “Any objections?”

“Nope.”

But based on how talented his fingers are, I assume his mouth will be even better. Besides, a deal is a deal. I agreed to let him go down on me for Gavin’s expedited release at a time of his choosing. That time is now, apparently.

Dante’s hands grab my hips to drag me closer, so my pussy is right on the edge of the counter. With one long lick his tongue glides through my slit, making me cry out in pleasure. I put down the ice cream and spoon to grab a handful of Dante’s hair as he begins to lick and suck up every drop of my arousal. It’s a pointless game since it’s constantly being replaced by more and more.

My hips buck, thighs tightening around his head, humping his face without any inhibitions as the pleasure builds. Dante moans against my flesh like he approves of me suffocating him, which only turns me on even more.

“Oh god! Oh, my fucking god!” I scream to the ceiling as my thighs flutter thanks to the tip of his tongue flicking over my clit repeatedly.

It feels like I’m falling or flying. It feels too amazing to even care as I endure the jolts of pleasure exploding through my entire body. So much pleasure it carries me up and away to the heavens.

When I come to again, my back and head are lying on the counter, and my fingers are still in Dante’s hair. I lift my head to find his lips pressing kisses to my lower belly while his eyes stare up at me.

“Welcome back to consciousness. Now, come for me again.”

Again? I haven’t even recovered from the first time.

Dante’s long, thick fingers spread my lower lips apart to make room for … “Oh, god!” My head falls backward again when his tongue dives down, my hips bouncing, trying to get away or get closer.

“Mmm, you’re fucking drenched,” he says between hard licks.

Two fingers slide inside of me, stealing my breath. “You’re so damn tight, like you haven’t taken a dick in years. So slick and snug.”

“Don’t…don’t stop,” I beg.

His thumb continues rubbing my clit at the same time he fingers me and licks me. “I’m not stopping. I could feast on you all night long.”

“I- I can’t.”

“You will.” Dante presses his heavy palm on my pelvis. The weight keeps me still even when the fluttering tip of his tongue returns to my clit at the same time his fingers are thrusting in and out of me.

“Please! Oh god!” I scream even though I’m not sure if I can handle any more. “Please, please, please,” I chant, tightening my fingers’ grip on his hair.

When he slows down, I stare down at Dante, his eyes once more on mine. His fingertips rub my clit that’s soaking wet, and then his wet tongue squirms inside of me. He pauses long enough to say, “Come one more time, butterfly. I’m going to bury my tongue inside of you until you give it a squeeze.”

When he sticks his tongue out to demonstrate by fucking me with it, an orgasm slams into me so hard I can’t see or hear anything for several moments. My back arches, my legs shake. I clench both sides of Dante’s head to urge him to keep going and never stop. This orgasm seems to last longer than any before.

When I come back down the second time, his hum of vibration rumbles through my flesh settling off a few more ripples of pleasure.

“Now you can have your ice cream.”

I sit up, tugging the shirt back down, intending to ask him about his turn.

The truth is that while I love oral, giving and obviously receiving, holding back to hurt him is beginning to hurt me. I ache to be full of him, but my head…I just can’t cross that line. One fuck and he might walk away, having accomplished his ultimate goal. I honestly don’t know why he wants me so badly other than because I refuse him. Once I give in, I’m just like all the others who were used and forgotten by him.

And denying him, knowing how badly I can frustrate this domineering, arrogant, mafia king makes me feel like a goddess.

When I don’t make a move to pick up the spoon or pint, Dante retrieves them.

“Now I bet you’ll open wide for me,” he says again with a smirk, as if he knows I’m thinking about taking him in my mouth.

We stare at each other for a silent moment before I do as I’m told by him for once without complaint.

But I don’t get to eat my spoonful before “

?” is huffed by a feminine voice. Dante and I both freeze, my head turning toward the source. “Now I can’t even leave my room unless I want to see you fucking her?”

I tug the tee down over my knees, but Dante doesn’t move away from me, seeming unconcerned we were just caught. His teeth, however, grind together so hard I hear the screech before he glances toward the stairs to the right of the kitchen and the brunette standing at the bottom of them.

“What are you doing down here this late?” he asks Madison like she’s a small child wandering the hallways.

“We ran out of ice cream upstairs. I thought I could find some here but now I’ve lost my appetite.” With that, she turns around and climbs back up the steps soundlessly on bare feet. No wonder we didn’t hear her.

“Sorry,” I whisper to Dante when he sits the ice cream and spoon down beside me. A few seconds later a door slams from two stories up, making me jump. “We probably should’ve put more clothes on and not done in here.”

“She’ll get over it,” he grumbles as he leans his forehead against my shoulder, burying his face against me. “Or it’ll be just one more thing for her to hate me for.”

Sliding my fingers up through his soft, messy hair, I tell him the truth. “I doubt she hates you.”

Lifting his head, the look in his eyes is the cold blue one that I bet he wears when he kills without remorse. “You hate me too, don’t you? Well, except for maybe when I’m getting you off.”

“What are you talking about? Why do you assume I hate you?” I ask when my hands drop abruptly from his now messy hair.

“The day that asshole was here he told me flat out that you hated me.”

“Who? Mitch?” I ask in confusion.

“There was no reason for him to lie about that.”

“I don’t…he probably just assumed I did when I bitched about being on my feet all night or complained about the guys who would grab my ass, not you specifically.” It sounds like I’m rambling—even to my own ears. I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to refute the truth to his face.

“If I knew who had grabbed your ass, I would’ve sliced their hands off.”

“I know that now. Maybe I didn’t think you would care if you knew before. Really, I thought you were just as likely to slap my ass without permission.”

Backing away from the kitchen island and me, Dante says, “I’m going to bed,” and takes off down the hall like he’s now pissed at me, and I have no idea what I did wrong.