Come inside me, like always.

Come inside me, like always.
"Not yet," he teased, his voice a husky rasp that sent shivers down my spine, withdrawing his fingers with a wet, obscene pop that made me whine in protest. But he replaced them almost immediately with his tongue—flat and broad at first, lapping from my clit to my entrance in long, savoring strokes that made my entire body tremble, the sensation like velvet fire against my oversensitive skin. "Sweet as ever, mixed with my cum from earlier. You're mine, Liana—every drop, every inch, every gasp." He delved deeper, his tongue probing inside me, swirling and thrusting in mimicry of what his cock would soon do, while one hand reached under my body to pinch my nipple, rolling it between his fingers with just enough pressure to border on pain, tugging gently to send jolts straight to my core.

I arched as much as the ties allowed, pushing back against his face with desperate rolls of my hips, craving more friction, more depth. "Dante—yes, eat me out like that. Suck my clit, make me come on your tongue. I can't take the teasing much longer—it's torture, but god, it feels so good. Bite me there, mark me like you did in Santorini, under the stars." My words spilled out in a rush, body on fire, the restraint amplifying every lick, every nip, turning the pleasure into something almost unbearable.

He obliged with a primal growl that vibrated against my folds, his mouth latching onto my clit with hungry suction, tongue flicking rapidly while two fingers—now three—thrust back inside, scissoring to stretch me wider, prepping me for the thick girth of his cock. The dual assault was overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight in my belly like a spring ready to snap, my breaths coming in short, ragged pants. "That's it—squirm for me, Liana. I love feeling you clench around my fingers, imagining it's my cock. Come for me, love—flood my mouth, scream if you have to, let the whole city know how I own you," he commanded between sucks, his free hand delivering another smack to my ass, the sharp sting pushing me closer to the edge.

It hit me like a wave crashing over Santorini cliffs—intense and unrelenting, my pussy convulsing wildly around his fingers, juices gushing in a hot rush as I cried out his name, the pillow barely muffling my ecstasy. "Dante—coming, oh god, yes! Don't stop—fuck, it's too much!" My body shook violently, toes curling into the sheets, the orgasm ripping through me in shuddering waves that left me boneless, panting, my thighs trembling from the aftershocks.

He rose behind me slowly, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk in his voice as he positioned himself at my entrance, his cock hard and throbbing, the head nudging against my slick folds. "Good girl—now take my cock, deep and hard like you begged for. You've earned it, Li." He thrust in with one powerful snap, bottoming out in a single motion that stretched me to the absolute limit, the angle from behind hitting spots deep inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids, a gasp tearing from my throat. "Fuck—tight as ever, clenching like you want to milk me dry already. Feel that? Buried balls-deep, just for you."

"Harder—wreck me, D," I begged, pushing back to meet his thrusts as best I could, the headboard creaking rhythmically with each brutal snap of his hips, the sound a symphony of our passion. His hands gripped my ass, spreading me wider to watch himself slide in and out, the slap of skin on skin filling the room like a forbidden drumbeat. "Fill me up again, claim every part of me—make me yours, like in that Moroccan desert tent, sand shifting under us while you fucked me raw."

He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back further, exposing my neck for nipping bites that sent fresh sparks through me. The other hand slipped around my front, fingers finding my clit again, rubbing in frantic, slick circles that matched his punishing pace. "Like this? Tied and fucked senseless, my cock owning your pussy, stretching you wide? God, Liana, you're soaking us both—dripping down my balls. Tell me how it feels, beg for my cum." His thrusts quickened, erratic and deep, his breath ragged against my ear, sweat-slicked bodies sliding together in perfect harmony.

"It feels incredible— you're so deep, hitting every spot, making me burn. Don't stop—pound me harder, D. I want your cum hot inside me, overflowing like that time in the Tuscan olive grove, under the full moon. Please—come with me, fill me up!" The words tumbled out, filthy and desperate, the relentless friction on my clit and the fullness of him pushing me toward another peak.

"Think of our life now—family downstairs earlier, laughing over games and snow, while I take you like this. Eternal, Liana—come again, with me, clench that pretty pussy around my cock." His command was my undoing, pleasure shattering like fireworks in a night sky, my walls pulsing wildly around him in rhythmic squeezes. "Yes—coming, Dante! Fill me—oh fuck, yes!" I screamed into the pillow, body quaking as the orgasm tore through me, more intense than the last, juices coating him further.

He followed with a guttural groan that reverberated through my body, spilling hot and abundant inside, pulse after pulse flooding me deep, overflowing in messy rivulets down my thighs that mingled with my release. "Take it all, Li—fuck, yes, milking me dry!" His hips ground against me to prolong the sensation, until we were both spent, collapsing in a tangle as he quickly untied my wrists, rubbing the faint marks with tender kisses.

We lay entwined in the afterglow, his arms wrapping around me protectively, our breaths syncing like the gentle lapping of waves on a Greek shore. "Love you—beyond words, Li," he whispered, kissing my forehead tenderly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back, soothing the lingering ache.

"And I you," I murmured, nestling close, our heartbeats drumming a shared rhythm, steady and eternal. "That was... intense. You always know how to push me to the edge, make it feel new every time. My body's going to remember this tomorrow—sore in all the right ways."

He chuckled softly, pulling the covers over us. "Good—let it remind you of how much I crave you. Rest now, love. Tomorrow's another day of family adventures, but tonight was ours."

Sleep came easy, wrapped in his warmth, dreams weaving through vineyards and snowfields, our passion the thread binding it all.

The next morning dawned crisp and bright, sunlight streaming through the curtains like a golden invitation to the day. I woke to the sound of Aria's giggles drifting up from downstairs, mingled with the clatter of pots—Dante must have beaten me to breakfast duty. My body protested as I stretched, a delicious soreness between my thighs and faint red lines on my wrists from the ties, hidden under long sleeves but a secret thrill nonetheless. I smiled, replaying the night's erotic symphony in my mind: the way he'd commanded me, teased me to the brink, then claimed me with such raw intensity. Slipping on a robe, I padded downstairs, the aroma of fresh coffee and bacon drawing me like a siren's call.

Aria was perched on a stool at the kitchen island, her magic stone "helping" Dante stir batter, her little hands covered in flour. "Mama! We're making waffles with secrets inside—berries and chocolate!" she announced, waving a sticky spoon triumphantly.

Dante turned, his eyes lighting up as they met mine, a knowing smirk playing on his lips—undoubtedly recalling our bound escapade. "Morning, love. Sleep well?" He leaned in for a kiss, his hand discreetly squeezing my ass through the robe, sending a spark through me. "Waffles sound good? Or should I whip up something... spicier?"

I swatted his arm playfully, glancing at Aria who was oblivious, focused on her stone. "Waffles are perfect. And behave—little ears." But my whisper held promise: "Save the spice for later."

The phone rang as we sat down to eat, Elena's cheerful voice filling the room on speaker. "Good morning, darlings! The gallery exhibit opens next week—I've got pieces inspired by our family stories, storms turning to sunrises. Richard's insisting on a brunch meeting today to discuss the foundation details. He's got ideas about partnering with local artists for the anonymous stories project. Say, eleven at that cozy spot near the park?"

Dante nodded, pouring syrup over Aria's waffle tower. "Sounds great, Mom. We'll be there. Aria, want to tell Grandma about your waffle secrets?"

Aria beamed, chattering excitedly: "The stone said put extra berries! And Grandpa can have one with a dragon face!"

Elena laughed warmly. "I can't wait to see it, princess. Richard's already excited—he's been sketching logo ideas for the foundation all morning. See you soon!"

We hung up, finishing breakfast amid Aria's tales of stone adventures. "Mama, can the stone come to brunch? It wants to meet more knights!"

"Of course," I said, ruffling her curls. "Every adventure needs magic."

By eleven, we arrived at the quaint café overlooking Central Park, snow still dusting the trees like powdered sugar. Richard and Elena were already there, a table laden with fresh croissants, fruit platters, and steaming lattes. Richard rose to hug us, his embrace warm and genuine, a far cry from the cold tycoon of our past. "There's my family! Aria, I've got a surprise—a little knight figurine for your stone to command."

Aria squealed, clutching it. "Thank you, Grandpa! Look, Mama—it's shiny like treasure!"

Elena pulled me into a side hug, her eyes twinkling. "You look radiant, Liana. Good night?" Her knowing glance made me blush, but I nodded.

"Very restorative," I replied with a wink.

Over brunch, ideas flowed like fine wine—Richard outlining sustainable funding for the foundation: "We'll start small, collect stories anonymously through a secure app, publish a book with proceeds going back to support families in transition. Elena's gallery can host exhibits featuring art from those stories—turn pain into inspiration."

Dante leaned in, adding: "I like it, Dad. But let's include mentorship programs—pair business pros with those rebuilding, like how we've rebuilt here."

Elena nodded enthusiastically. "And I'll curate the art side—storms giving way to calm seas, as I said. Liana, your writing could tie in—veiled tales from our journeys, anonymous of course."

Aria, munching a croissant, chimed in: "Can I draw pictures for it? With dragons and stones!"

We all laughed, Richard ruffling her hair. "Absolutely, princess. Your art will be the star."

The meeting stretched into afternoon walks in the park, more snow play—another castle built, this one with "foundation walls" as Richard dubbed it. Laughter echoed: Dante and Richard teaming up for a snowball ambush on Elena and me, Aria declaring victory for all.

Back home, as evening fell, Aria crashed early again, her knight and stone guarding her dreams. Alone, Dante pulled me close in the living room, fire crackling. "Today was perfect—but now, I want you again. Upstairs?"

I nodded, heat pooling. "Yes—but this time, no ties. Just us, slow and deep."