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"No one else's. Never. God, fuck." His words are insane, unhinged, his lips trailing over my neck, nipping and sucking,worshipingme. It's almost like he's afraid that if he takes his lips from me, I'll disappear.
I moan as he continues to fuck me, as the feeling builds, as he mumbles incoherent nonsense in my neck.
He's as taken over by this as I am. Somehow, somewhere, I know that. I know that he feels this, that this is bigger than just sex, than losing my virginity. That connection, that fuel that keeps pouring onto the fire isn't typical.
It's us.
And the pressure builds to a point where it's near worrisome, the pleasure taking over. "It's too much, god, Dante."
"Perfect. You can take it, baby. You were made for me," he murmurs, sucking on the spot beneath my neck that has me bucking into him, forcing him even deeper and pulling another deep moan from both of us.
"Yes. I'm yours. God, I'm yours, Dante," I say, and then with one last grind of his hips to mine, I explode, coming around him. The noises that come from my lips are masked only by the unbearable, soul-deep groan from Dante's chest. The feel of it vibrates through me and ratchets up my orgasm as he continues to pound into me relentlessly before he stills, slamming deeper than before and growling into my neck.
"Mine. Fuck, you're mine. God. Mine," he whispers into my skin even as we come down from our high.
And I think in that moment, he truly believes it—that I was made to be his.
Fourteen
-Dante-
"You were a virgin," I say, my voice a whisper as I speak the words that have been ricocheting in my mind.
In the last hour, I’ve cleaned Lilah up, gotten her some water, and now we lie in bed together, nearly silent the entire time. Not an uncomfortable silence, just a new one. Anytime I've ever been with her, she's been talkative and chatty. This is just . . . being. For most of that time, her head has been on my chest, my fingers combing through her long blonde hair that curls at the end as my mind uses her breaths as a calming metronome.
I'm not sure what my expectation was when I said that, but a response . . . wasn't it.
I think I thought she'd pretend to be asleep.
"It's not a big deal."
"You're twenty-six?" I ask, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway. "You waited a long time." She probably wanted rose petals and a hotel room and fancy Champagne. Instead, she got a rough fuck in my bed with a man she, in theory, doesn't even know.
"There were circumstances beyond my control."
"Circumstances beyond your control?"I ask, because while I don't feel bad about taking her virginity, I'm confused about what would have a beautiful woman like Delilah holding onto it tightly if she truly didn't care about it.
"I . . . I have an overprotective father. Very overprotective. In the limelight. He chose my boyfriends, set me up on dates, that kind of thing."
My hands move hair from her neck to behind her back as she speaks to my chest, a nervous finger moving up to trace imaginary shapes.
I don't like the words she's saying.
I don't like them at all.
"What does an overprotective father mean, Lilah. You're beautiful. Men . . . I'm sure men were dying to be with you." The thought crushes something inside of me, a will to be kind to anyone who looks sideways at her.
She laughs, but it's self-deprecating.
"I . . . I guess. I don't know. It's . . . It's hard to explain."
"Try." The word comes out nearly angry, a contradiction since I should be elated that she is mine and mine alone.
Especially since understanding that I’m her first has turned my world upside down. Knowing that she gave me something so fucking precious.
"My dad is a politician. He's well-loved in his community, and my mom passed when I was young. I became kind of . . . a part of his image."
"And your virginal status? That was part of the image, too?" She smiles and huffs a laugh, her hand moving to slap my chest like she thinks I'm being an idiot.
