Novel & Cerita Fem Dante

Dante said, keeping his eyes on mine “I know that you don’t want it for yourself, and I won’t make you live through it. Call me traditional, closed up, and idiot, but I don’t want to be the cause of a woman being used for pleasure for some information. Plus, there is another fact that stops me from wanting you to go doing my dirty work sexually…” “And that is?” I asked, putting my hands on Dante’s, removing them from my cheeks. “I don’t share my woman” he said, his tone hardening for a second as he grew protective “therefore, as my mate, I don’t think that you’re expecting me to share you…” ********************************

Declan asked, looking at Dante for answers. “The one who is supposed to unite and rule us all.” Dante said as he shook his head. “Truthfully, she’s a hot as fuck handful, that will test your limits and strengths then bow down to your dominance behind closed doors. She’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma. But she tastes wonderful on your tongue and feels even better on your dick.”

Dante reached out to squeeze my breasts, his gaze never leaving my swollen pussy. "How about we take turns?" He said aloud. "I'll have you first, then Felix and Emilio." He added as he squeezed my nipple, causing me to whimper as the sharp shot of pain was accompanied by a wave of pleasure. "That sounds good." Emilio answered. Dante nodded once and took off his pants and brief, his hard cock standing proud, it's tip already coated with pre-cum, looking pink and angry. A perfect image of masculine beauty. My pussy spasmed and my fingers itched to touch him. I purred, undulating my hips to show my eagerness.

Dante catches up a moment later. “Pregnant women can’t use hot tubs.” He grasps my waist and lifts me out of the water to sit me on the side. I pout. “No fun.” Dante raises an eyebrow, then pushes my legs apart and dives between them. I gasp and latch a hand in his wet hair. His tongue paints pictures on my pussy, teasing my clit, delving inside me for only a second at a time. I rock against his face until he puts a finger inside and turns his mouth’s attention to my thighs, leaving another string of bruises along either side.

Her legs were long, and her body was well-shaped with a slim waist. She had an amazing figure without a trace of fat. She had a height of 170cm, which looked matched when she stood in front of Dante. With exquisite features and delicate skin, the girl was like a lady favored by God. If she were a man, she must have rushed over. But... her man was impotent. How terrible! What a waste of a good girl! Dante frowned. It looked like thick ink was overthrown in his phoenix eyes, and the color of his eyes was hard to read.

Me: The kind with dark eyes and a smile that won't leave my head. Dante: Oh god. You actually noticed a woman. The world is ending. Me: Shut up. Dante: Who is she? Me: Works here. Paige. She doesn't know who I am. Not really. Dante: And you like that. Me: I like everything about her. Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again. Dante: You're an idiot, you know that? Me: I know. Dante: What are you going to do?

The door closed. Angry? Did I do anything wrong? Suddenly, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down. There was a dagger in my hand. Symbols began carving on the silver blade. And somehow, somewhere, I knew what they meant. “Marfóir Deamhan,” I whispered. The meaning came to me like a memory that was never mine. My voice cracked, as I translated the words. “Demon Slayer.”

Dante’s hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into her skin as he thrust up to meet her. “That’s it,” Dante said, voice low and rough. “Keep riding it. Take every inch like you were made for it.” The woman moaned louder, a raw and nasty sound that broke on every downward roll of her hips. “Fuck!! yes, mmmhhh… so deep, don’t stop please… use my cunt, daddy….mmm” Dante’s eyes were half-lidded with pleasure until they opened and locked directly onto Luca’s. For one second neither of them moved.

Everything is so minimalist yet elegant; whoever picked this must have great taste. "Tesoro mio, sei a casa!" A shrill voice drifts our way. I turn to face a middle-aged woman who looks like the female version of Dante. Her black hair is styled in a short wolf cut that gives her a chic look, and I recognize her immediately as Florence Romano, Dante's mother. She spreads out her hands, a radiant smile on her face as she beams up at him.

Dante’s voice echoed through the silent hall, heavy with a gravity that made the books on the shelves seem to vibrate. “I found more than I was ready to face,” Helena replied, standing up and holding the notebook against her chest. “My surname is in these books, Dante. My mark is on the stones in the forest. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dante walked toward her, his steps heavy and deliberate across the wooden floor. He stopped just a few inches away, the scent of leather and rain enveloping her like a cloak.