“I just did.”
“Say it.”
“I want you,” I pant. “Inside me.”
Our lips meet and I forget the whole conversation, until he pulls away and nuzzles his nose against my neck, the tip of his dick still brushing my entrance. It’s maddening.
“Be more specific,” he says.
God, what this man does to me. “I want to get railed by your fucking cock.”
Grasping for him, I huff my frustration when he moves his hips out of reach.
“Tell me.”
“Dammit, what do you want from me?” I ask, only half kidding. “I want to fuck! Screw. Bang.Peeninvageen. Is that clear enough for you?”
Dante starts cackling with laughter, and I can’t help joining in. He kisses me again, at first in between our chuckles and then deeper, slower, as if he wants to be a part of me. I could almost come just from the feel of his tongue on mine.
I spread my legs wider in invitation and Dante finally grants my request, sliding into me in the hottest, most unhurried, deliberate stroke I have ever felt. He moves slowly, too slowly, torturing me on purpose. When he’s fully sheathed, I wrap my legs around his waist and purr like a cat.
“That’s perfect,” I tell him. My body is tight with frustration, eager for more. But instead of picking up his pace, he stops what he’s doing, staying exactly where he is.
“What else do you want me to do?” he prods.
“I want more.” He doesn’t move. I think I hate this game. “Thrust faster, damn you.”
He does. I arch up to meet him as pleasure explodes through me.
“What else?”
“Harder,” I pant.
Dante pushes my knees up to my chest so he can get a better angle, and he starts ramming into me even deeper, harder, faster, giving new meaning to the term jackhammering. But I love it. I want it. He’s giving me exactly what I asked for…and then he stops.
“What? No, no, no. I didn’t say stop!”
He’s breathing hard as he grabs my chin. “Tell me. What do you need?”
I pout. “Cross your damn eyes.”
His eyebrows lift, and then he crosses his eyes and sticks out the tip of his tongue for good measure.
“Oh my God, you!” I gasp, laughing. He laughs too, and I swear I can feel his joy wrapping around me like a security blanket. I love this thing between us.
Even so, a girl has needs. And it’s getting worse by the second.
Taking his face between my hands, I give him a serious-not-serious look. “Please, please, please. I beg you. Get the fucking job done, Bellanti.”
The amusement on his face is replaced by pure lust as he uses those talented hip swings to work us both toward oblivion. We’re moaning each other’s names, making a mess of the bed, heedless of the headboard knocking fast and loud against the wall. All I can do is cling to him tight and voice my approval as we both slide into wave after wave of pleasure—and okay, fuck, he does get the job done. When we come, we come hard.
Afterward, we lay there together, cooling in the afterglow.
When I wakein the predawn darkness, I’m momentarily disoriented. My brain says it’s morning, but the sky doesn’t. It takes me a second to remember it’s late fall now, and that the sun has been rising later and later each day.
Breathing deeply, trying to slow my rapid heartbeat, I snuggle back against Dante’s warm body. His hands rove over my stomach, smoothing down the curve of my hip, and they anchor me in the darkness.
I feel safe. Protected. By this man.
