Chapter Twelve

Viola awoke with a splitting headache. Had she been alone, she would have moaned in pain, but she found herself cradled in Dante’s arms. He was fully dressed and asleep. The fire had burned down, but the embers were still glowing, providing sufficient warmth for the room.

Not wanting to alert Dante to her condition, she did what she always did to try and make the ache go away: she breathed in and out and wished herself in a peaceful meadow. She slowed her breathing and tried to only concentrate on the picture in her mind, but this time, the picture wouldn’t come. All she could see in her mind was Dante: the way he’d touched her in the gondola, the way he’d put his mouth to her sex and licked her until she’d screamed out her pleasure. Dante, Dante, Dante. Like a chant, his name echoed in her head.

Instead of her breathing slowing down, it sped up. Instead of her body falling back into a peaceful slumber where no pain existed, she felt her skin heat and her stomach clench with need. The need to be touched. By Dante.

Her aching head was forgotten. All that existed now was his body close to hers. Viola clasped his hand and pulled it to her naked breast. The contact of skin on skin soothed her, but it wasn’t enough. She needed him to stroke her, to tease her nipples the way he’d done it before. To squeeze her breasts and make the ache go away.

When she clasped her hand over his and squeezed, thus tightening his hand over her breast, he stirred. An incoherent mumble broke from his lips, but he didn’t wake. She sighed in frustration. This wouldn’t do.

She looked at his relaxed form, his face almost soft and peaceful in his sleep. And his manhood—the hardness that she’d felt under her fingers the night before didn’t seem to be there. The bulge under the fabric seemed to be smaller. Viola cupped him with her palm and felt the heat beneath. When she squeezed gently, Dante suddenly stirred.

She raised her eyes to his face just as his eyes flew open, a startled look crossing his face. “Good morning,” she whispered.

“If you don’t remove your hand from its current position, I can’t guarantee what else will rise this morning.” He gave her a meaningful look. But instead of removing her hand, she squeezed him again. Something in his eyes told her that he hadn’t meant his words as a threat.

“What if I don’t?” she teased, suddenly much more sure of herself, because under her hand she could already feel him swell. It appeared that he hadn’t lied the night before: her presence in his bed did excite him.

“What do you want?” His voice was lower now, and she recognized the rumble in it as arousal. The same arousal that now made her cup the hard length of his manhood.

“More.”

“You want more of what we did last night?”

“Yes. But this time—” She hesitated, unsure of how to form her request.

“This time?” Dante prompted.

“I want to touch you too.”

“Viola, you’re going to kill me.”

She wasn’t going to be violent, he had to know that. “I won’t hurt you. I saw how you did it yourself. I can do—”

He exhaled. “That’s not what I meant. I know you won’t hurt me. But you’re going to make me lose all control if I let you touch me. Don’t you see? How can I show you the pleasures of the flesh when I can’t keep myself under control?”

She didn’t understand how that was any different than what he’d done to her. “But I lose control when you touch me. It’s not fair if I don’t get to do the same.”

Dante shook his head and sighed. “I guess I can’t argue with that, can I?”

“Is that a yes?”

Excitement coursed through her when he nodded. She would get to touch his beautiful body, pump his hard shaft in her palm, and make him surrender to her the same way she’d surrendered in his arms when he’d showered her with his caresses. She licked her lips in anticipation.

***

Dante looked at Viola’s parted lips and nearly felt his heart stop. She wanted to touch him, not because he’d coaxed her into it or kissed her senseless, but because ... Well, why did she? Why would she want to caress the very instrument that had caused her pain two nights ago?

But her eager hands that now opened his breeches and took his fully erect cock out of its confines were testament enough that she wanted to give him the pleasure of her touch. And he was too far gone to stop her. The moment her soft palm wrapped around him, he closed his eyes and let out a deep moan. Nothing could possibly feel better than her hands on him.

“Is it alright like this?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

“Alright?” he rasped, his throat suddenly as dry as sandpaper. “It’s perfect.” After that, he lost the ability to speak and could only grunt out his approval at her tender ministrations.

Viola had a magic touch. At least, that’s how Dante perceived it. Her hand was firm yet gentle. Strong yet soft. She pumped his shaft masterfully, exerting the right pressure and speed, varying between long and short strokes, alternately squeezing hard, then merely running her fingers up and down his shaft. He loved everything she did.

Each caress drove him further toward insanity, because that’s what this was. It was insane allowing her to pleasure him like that when he knew it would ultimately lead to one thing: him plunging his cock into her soft folds. Which wasn’t what she wanted from him. She wanted soft and gentle, stroking and sucking, kissing and licking. And he would give her that, but when she stroked his cock like this, all he could think of was how it would feel if her cunt squeezed around him like that.

“Oh, God, Viola, I’m gonna come!” he cried out the moment the pressure in his balls built. Then his body bucked against her. His seed shot in the air and spread over her hand as well as his shirt and breeches. But she didn’t let go. She continued pumping him until the last of his spasms subsided.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled her against his chest and pressed a kiss in her hair. “Thank you.” He pressed her hard against him, not wanting to let go of the wonderful woman in his arms. She molded to him so naturally that he barely registered where he ended and she began.

“I liked that.” Viola’s voice warmed his heart.

“Not as much as I did.” He chuckled and felt a broad smile build on his face. Who’d ever said that virgins were useless in bed? It turned out that this almost-virgin was a much better student than he was a tutor.