Chapter 111: My dirty girl.

Liana's POV

"Booked mine. December 25th—Christmas with you, under southern stars. We'll fuck by the tree, baby—lights twinkling on your skin, my cock as your present."

His words wrapped around me like a promise, warm and filthy, pulling a lazy smile from my lips even as exhaustion tugged at my edges. The vibrator lay discarded on the rug, still humming faintly until I switched it off via the app, my body a boneless heap on the floor. Clara's music filtered faintly from the living room—some indie playlist, soft and unobtrusive—but I didn't care if she heard. The high from the denial, the release, it all blended into a haze that made the world feel distant, except for him.

"Christmas," I echoed, voice thick with afterglow, rolling onto my stomach to prop the phone closer, giving him a view of my flushed face and the curve of my ass still marked from earlier self-inflicted spanks. "You'll be my Santa—naughty list only. Stuffing my stocking with that thick cock of yours. But D... what if Richard suspects? You've been dipping into the accounts—subtle, but he's not stupid."

Dante's expression sobered a fraction, his hand raking through his damp hair, but the post-orgasm flush kept him looking wrecked and gorgeous. He leaned back against his pillows, the camera catching the faint scars on his knuckles from that bar fight last year—the one where he'd defended my honor after some asshole called me a tease. "Let him suspect. I've covered tracks—shell companies, crypto transfers. By the time he notices, we'll be gone. Fake passports are ready; picked them up from that guy in the Valley. Liana Rossi becomes Elena Voss—sounds exotic, right? And me, Dante becomes Dario. We'll blend in Bali, open a dive shop or something. No more boardrooms, no more pretending we're just siblings at family dinners."

The fantasy ignited something fresh in me, a mix of fear and excitement that twisted low in my belly. I traced a finger over the screen, wishing it was his chest. "Elena Voss... I like it. But tonight? I need more. That toy was good, but it's not you—not the weight of you pinning me down, your breath hot on my neck as you rut into me like an animal."

He smirked, that predatory glint returning, even through the pixels. "Greedy girl. Already? Fine—grab the dildo from last time. The one molded from me. Slick it up, then fuck your ass with it. Slow. While I tell you exactly how I'll claim every hole when I land."

My breath hitched, a fresh wave of arousal flooding me despite the sensitivity. I crawled to the nightstand, pulling out the realistic dildo—veined, curved, a perfect replica that always made my cheeks burn with how intimate it felt. "You're insatiable," I teased, but my voice betrayed me, husky and eager. I grabbed the lube from the drawer—strawberry-scented, his favorite—and coated the toy generously, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room.

"On all fours," he commanded, his hand drifting back to his cock, already half-hard again. God, his recovery time was unfair. "Ass to the camera. Spread those cheeks—show me that tight little hole. The one only I've ever had."

I positioned myself, knees wide on the bed now, phone angled behind me with a pillow prop. The mirror across the room let me watch too—my reflection a mess of tangled hair and parted lips, ass up like an offering. I reached back, parting my cheeks, exposing everything. "Like this? Pink and puckered, waiting for you. Remember the first time? You prepped me for hours—fingers, tongue, making me beg before you inched in."

"Fuck yes," he groaned, stroking himself back to full hardness, the camera dipping to show the way his fist squeezed the base. "You were so tight—clenched around my cock like a vice. Cried a little, but took it all. Now lube your fingers first. One in—stretch for me. Tell me how it feels."

I obeyed, dipping a finger into the lube before circling my rim, the cool gel making me shiver. Pushing in slowly, the intrusion burned at first, then eased into a full, forbidden pleasure. "Tight—God, so tight. Burning a bit, but good. Like when you rim me, your tongue hot and wet, loosening me up before you claim it."

"Add another," he rasped, his breaths coming faster. "Scissor them. Imagine my tongue there now—lapping at your rim while my fingers fuck your pussy. I'd eat your ass until you're dripping, then switch, make you taste yourself on my lips."

The second finger stretched me further, a whimper escaping as I worked them in and out, hips rocking back instinctively. My free hand snaked under to tease my clit, still swollen from before. "Dante—feels filthy, full. Your tongue would be heaven—probing deep, making me squirm. I'd grind back on your face, beg for your cock."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me. "That's my dirty girl. Now the toy. Press the head in—slow. Breathe through it. Pretend it's me behind you, hands on your hips, pulling you onto my dick inch by inch."

I withdrew my fingers, positioning the dildo, the lubed head nudging my entrance. Pushing back, the initial breach made me gasp, a mix of pain and ecstasy as my body adjusted. "Oh fuck—stretching me wide. The ridges—dragging inside, hitting nerves I forget about. Not as warm as you, but God, the curve... pressing just right."

"Deeper," he urged, his strokes matching my pace, slick and audible. "All the way—bury it. Then fuck yourself. Hard. Slap your ass while you do—leave marks for me to kiss when I arrive."

I sank it home, bottoming out with a moan that echoed off the walls, my walls clenching around the invasion. Starting slow, I rocked back, the toy thrusting in and out, each withdrawal pulling a whine from my throat. My hand came down—smack—on my cheek, the sting amplifying everything. "One—harder than before. Reddening up. Two—fuck, it jiggles, makes the toy shift deeper. Three—imagining your hips slapping mine, balls against my clit."

By five, I was lost, rhythm frantic, the dual sensations of fullness and the building pressure on my clit pushing me toward the edge. "D—close again. Your cock would throb here, pulsing as you come inside my ass, filling me hot and sticky."

"Come with me," he growled, his face contorting in pleasure, fist flying. "Clench around it—milk that fake cock like you'd milk mine. Now, Li—scream."

The orgasm hit differently this time—deeper, more intense, rippling from my core outward, my ass spasming around the toy as I collapsed forward, muffling my cry into the sheets. "Dante!" It tore from me, raw and unrestrained. On screen, he erupted again, cum spilling over his hand, his roar muted but fierce.

We floated in the aftermath, breaths syncing across the miles. I eased the toy out, wincing at the emptiness, and flipped onto my back, phone cradled to my chest. "You're going to break me when you get here," I murmured, half-laughing, half-serious. "Multiple rounds? I'll be walking funny for days."

"Good," he replied, voice soft now, affectionate. "Mark of ownership. Sleep, baby. Tomorrow—more planning. I love you. Wild, forbidden you."

"Love you too." The call ended, leaving me in the dim glow of my lamp, body sated but heart aching for the real thing. I cleaned up lazily, slipping into an oversized tee that still smelled faintly of his cologne from the suitcase he'd packed for me. Sleep came in fits, dreams a montage of beaches and bodies, escape laced with lust.