Chapter 97 INTERRUPTED BLISS.

Chapter 97 INTERRUPTED BLISS.
CINNAMON.
The silk had twisted somewhere around my ribs, but neither of us cared.
Dante’s body was searingly hot against mine, the crumpled fabric dragging across my stomach and breasts every time he moved. The friction alone aroused me.
 Dante started moving, stretching me with slow thrusts as I clenched my jaw against the burn. It felt good. So, so good. He kissed me harder, more desperate.
My hips rose to meet him and my body took over from my mind, which was exactly what I'd needed, and he went deeper and I let him set the pace, relaxing with every stroke until my body got used to being filled completely.  And it was. So fucking full. He put all his cock in, not sparing an inch and it made my toes curl.
It turned to an intense pleasure that tightened my entire body and I welcomed it. I pulled him tighter, moving my hips against him, panting as he went deeper and deeper, the pleasure building and building. I moaned as the pang of it in my stomach had me clawing at him. I wanted him closer. I wanted to feel more—I needed it. I bucked against him as he fell into me, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he moved.
And then he lost total control of himself, becoming aggressive with a growl, pounding against me with a desperation that had me crying out over and over. The ache it brought didn’t matter, the sting didn’t matter, but the tension? That was unbearable. It was so intense, a fire that I couldn’t breathe through.
"Good," I thought, my fingers tightening on his shoulders. "God. So good."
I gasped as he ripped my nightie off, throwing it to the side before lifting me onto his waist, thrusting up as I wrapped my arms around his neck, my head falling back as I panted in time with his strokes. It was all I could do to stop myself coming undone.
Dante filled me over and over again, replacing every part of my body with an unmatched pleasure that I couldn’t escape until it was too much. He pushed me back on the bed, hitting the spot so far inside me that I cried out again and again, each stroke another match to the inferno that burned through me.
A blaze that consumed me just like I wanted it to. I dug my nails in, scraping down his back as he growled, thrusting faster, my core exploding with pulse after pulse of pleasure, unraveling the tightness in my core until I was just a sweating, panting mess beneath him.
Dante reached between my thighs and found my clit. He began to rub in slow circular motions while his cock throbbed so full and warm as he neared his release. That combination, sent every nerve I owned into total revolt.
My walls greedily sucked him in, clenching around him.
“Fuck!”
Dante ground out, a burst of uncontrolled thrusts slamming against me as I held him, moaning and gasping.
Breathing hard, "get on your knees, Sweet Pea,” he commanded.
I scrambled up, obeying.
He held himself over me, and I stared up at him. He massaged the top of his glistening red cock, pumping himself. His eyes were dark and fixed on my face and the look in them made my stomach flip.
"Open your mouth."
A wicked grin spread across my face as I knew what was coming. Opening my mouth, I waited as he went faster on himself, gasping.
A warm trail of cum coated my tongue, some landing on my chin, mouth and eyes. I swallowed immediately, stretching up to close my lips around him and pull every last drop before he was finished. I felt his whole body shudder as I did it. I felt his hand grip my hair.
"Fuck! Me! That was sexy." He groaned.
I licked my lips slowly. Then, because I had zero shame where he was concerned, I collected what had landed on my chin and cheek with my finger and brought it to my mouth.
Dante leaned down and kissed me. Deeply and passionately.
"You just tasted yourself," I whispered against his mouth.
He groaned, falling onto the bed. I smiled joining him.
 Our passion still burned between us, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt it. The desire still swam in his eyes. He lay on his back next to me, closing his eyes. I looked down at his pulsing cock, tinged with cum.
 "That was magnificent," I breathed.
He opened one eye. Smirked. "Thank you."
I laughed. "Why are you thanking me? I started it."
"Exactly." He turned his head to look at me properly. "Thank you."
I didn't know why he was thanking me but I nodded. Before I recalled myself, he stood and flipped me over, slamming into me. I didn't know when he'd gotten hard again. Dante was mercilessly pounding
Breathing hard, sweating, my pussy aching, I cried out, orgasming again to his thrusts. He was just as weak as me. I pushed him off me, straddling his waist as he grinned and lifted me, helping me put him at my entrance. He lowered me onto him as I gasped and he growled,
He cursed, a clenched jaw, but it had me laughing, reaching for his damp face, my own just as wet. My hair stuck to my neck, to my face, but I didn’t care. I’d hydrate after. Whenever that was. I kissed him, lifting myself on him then sliding back down, my core burning alive, the insatiable need demanding even more. I quickened my pace and sat up, gripping his chest for leverage, riding him.
I could barely breathe through the hurricane we had created together. It was messy, passionate, and I couldn’t get enough. I felt so much delicious pain and pleasure at the same time. I never wanted it to end. But it had to, and that was rammed home when there was a knock at the door.
"Mommy! Daddy! Can I come in?"
I froze.
Dante tensed beneath me.
We exchanged glances.
His face changed through a range of emotions in less than two seconds—surprise, resignation, amusement, mild devastation—before landing on a helpless laugh that shook his entire chest, which unfortunately made me tremble on top of him, producing a sound I decided Oliver shouldn't hear.
"Just a second, honey!" Dante called out, remarkably composed given the situation.
He gripped my hips.
"Dante—" I widened my eyes.
"Just a moment—"
"Our son is outside that door."
He pushed up with misguided optimism.
I pressed my hand flat against his chest and wrapped my legs around him. "Do not."
He dropped his head back onto the pillow half groaning, half laughing—a clear indication of a reluctantly accepting defeat.
I climbed off him with as much dignity as a naked woman could muster at six in the morning, found my robe draped over the chair, shrugged it on, and tossed his to him.
He caught it and put it on with slow reluctance of performance, an act he found philosophically objectionable.
Rolling my eyes at him, I opened the door.
Oliver burst in like a small storm, warm from sleep, eyes half-closed, hair tousled in two directions, completely unfazed. He walked straight past me without fully looking up and climbed into bed, burrowing himself into Dante's side with the unwavering confidence of a child who had never once doubted his welcome.
Dante stared at the ceiling.
Then he looked at me.
He spread his arms wide in a gesture that clearly communicated "this is my life" with stunning clarity.
I held my lips together but failed completely at suppressing laughter.
Climbing in on the other side, Dante wrapped one arm around me and the other around Oliver, pulling us both close, the three of us enveloped in morning quietness, Oliver already drifting back to sleep as Dante's chest rose and fell beneath my cheek.
His hand moved gently up and down my arm.
I lay there listening to my son breathe and felt my husband's heartbeat beneath my palm.