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“Please what, baby?” He asks.

“Please, Dante, please, I need…”

“Tell me. Use your words.”

“I need you inside me. I can’t… please, I’ve been good, I’ve waited, please…”

His dark eyes hold mine. He sees me, really sees me. Trembling, desperate, completely surrendered to this need he’s built in me.

“Yes,” he says finally. “You have been good. So good for me.”

He’s already unbuckling his jeans. They drop, and his shirt comes off, and the light catches the ink on his shoulders. It’s a beautiful contrast against his brown skin, the cut of muscle, the huge, hard length of his cock.

He kneels first. That’s the thing that breaks me. He doesn’t crowd between my spread legs the second he’s naked. He kneels and unbuckles my left ankle, then my right, his fingers careful as if the leather might bruise me as he takes them off.

“Wrap those beautiful thighs around me,” he says, standing.

I do. My thighs lift, lock around his waist, and the cuffs at my wrists take more of my weight as the head of his cock finds my center. The leather-bound wood of the cross is solid against my back. He’s solid against my front. The world narrows to the space between his chest and mine.

“I’m on the pill,” I breathe. “I want you bare. We’ve all done blood work.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want to feel you. Just you.”

His forehead drops to mine. For a long moment he just breathes with me, our mouths so close we share the same air.

“Look at me.”

I do.

He pushes in.

The sound that leaves me is something I’ve never made before. It’s not pain. It’s the noise of every wall I’ve built coming down at once, of years of held breath finally let out. He goes slow. God, so slow, watching my face for any flicker of a sign thatI don’t want this, and when he’s seated to the hilt his eyes close for half a second like he’s praying.

“Dante.”

“I know.”

He moves.

The first thrust drags a whimper out of me, and the second, and by the third, my hands are pulling at the cuffs not to escape but to ground, to feel the leather hold me while he takes me apart. His hips snap forward, and I have nowhere to go. I can’t push him back, can’t slow him down, can’t do anything but take what he gives.

And it’s the most powerful I’ve felt in my entire life.

“Look at you,” he rasps against my mouth. “Look at you, taking every fucking inch of me. Taking everything I give you.”

“More, please,” I urge.

“Fuck, baby.”

His hand comes up. Settles around the front of my throat. Not gripping. Just resting there, his thumb at the hinge of my jaw, his fingers spread along the curve of my neck.

His eyes lock on mine. Checking. Assessing.

He keeps fucking me, deeper now, harder, the cross rattling, the chains chiming softly with each thrust. His mouth finds my jaw. My ear. The skin under my ear that makes my hips jerk against him.

“This what you needed?” he murmurs. “My cock inside you while you’re tied up?”