“Tell me this means nothing.” He comes down over me, bare skin to bare skin. The press of him anchors me to the mattress, and I sink into it, unguarded. “Look me in the eye and tell me this is just an arrangement.”
I can’t. We both know I can’t.
“That’s what I thought.”
His forehead drops to mine. Close enough to share heat.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispers, close enough I feel the words. “I’m going to take everything you’ll give me and I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Then take it.”
He hooks into my underwear. Drags them down my legs. Discards them.
Then his touch is between my thighs, parting me, sliding through wetness.
“Christ.” The word punches out of him. “You’re soaked.”
“I told you. Since dress one.”
He pushes two fingers inside me and I arch off the bed with a moan that sounds broken even to my own ears. His other palm slides behind my head, cradling it, keeping me close.
“Is this for me?” He pumps them in a measured rhythm, curling to hit the spot that makes me see stars. “All this for me?”
“Yes.” I can barely form words. His thumb finds my clit and circles it, teasing pressure that drags a ragged sound from my throat. “God, yes. Dante, please.”
“Please what?”
“I need you.”
“You have me.” He stretches me wider, preparing me. “Be specific.”
“I need you inside me.” The words come out desperate, shameless. “Please.”
He groans like I’ve wounded him. Withdraws. They glisten with my arousal and he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while watching my face.
“You taste like you’re already mine.”
He positions himself between my legs. The head of his cock nudges my entrance, hot and hard and exactly right.
But he doesn’t push in. Just holds there, making me wait.
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes. Meet his focus.
“Remember this.” His voice shakes. Just a fraction. Just enough. “Remember that you chose this. That you asked for this. That you let me in.”
“I let you in weeks ago.” The truth spills out of me, raw and unguarded. “I’ve been letting you in since the moment I walked through your door.”
His expression fractures. His brow creases, jaw working, his stare going glassy.
“Cazzo,Cassia.”
Then he pushes forward and fills me in one smooth stroke.
I cry out. Can’t help it. He’s so thick, stretching me, and it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Breathe.” He presses close, foreheads touching. “Breathe for me.”
