Page 14 of Tell Me You Want Me

“You’ve slept with me last night and in Vegas, Alexandria. You tell me, do I snore?” Her cheeks flush, and my memory flashes back to the night after we were married. When I had to leave and got to see her sleeping peacefully without a stitch of clothing, wrapped in nothing but a sheet.

“That’s irrelevant. Next question, what’s your biggest fear?” One of these days, it’s going to be her in the hot seat, answering all of these questions. Only it’ll be with her naked, legs spread, me on my knees, and she’ll have to pay attention while I devour her whole.

“Losing control and losing you now that I’ve had a taste of what life looks like with you in it.” The room goes completely still as the sarcastic, guarded edge in her eyes melts and is replaced with softness. She lowers her notepad, her fingers relaxing around her pen.

I take advantage of the pause to lean forward more, planting my forearms on my thighs, eyes sweeping over her—taking in the loose gray sweatpants hanging low on her hips, wondering what she’s wearing beneath. The thin fabric of her top shows the outline of her pebbled nipples, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from going after her.

“Are you done, wife?” My voice drops to a quiet growl that vibrates through the space. Alexandria swallows hard, and now I’ve got a vision of having one hand wrapped around her neck while she takes my cock to the back of her throat, much like she did in the hotel shower on our wedding night.

“I think that covers the preliminary cross-examination. For now.” She sets the notepad and paper down on the coffee table.

“Good,” I rasp, my restraint on the verge of breaking. “I’ve got a list of questions of my own. But they can wait.”

“They can?” she whispers.

“Yeah, they can.” I stand up slowly, my frame filling the space, and watch as her eyes zero in on the hard bulge in my slacks. I move around the coffee table, clearing the distance between us. “It’s been far too long since I’ve been inside you, and I’m running out of fucking patience.” I brace myself, waiting for her to retreat, for the panic to set in, for her to build another damn wall around herself.

She doesn’t run.

She stands and steps into my space, reaching up and placing her hands against my chest. It makes every muscle in my chest lock up tightly.

“If we’re doing this, Dante,”—she looks up at me, voice steady and resolute— “I need you to understand something right now.”

“I’m listening,” I grunt. My hands settle gently on the sides of her curvy waist.

“I can’t lose me. I am not quitting my job. I am not giving up my career to become barefoot and pregnant in your Medina mansion. And I am definitely not working for you, so don’t even think about doing anything underhanded like that. I keep my life, my identity, and my work. Deal?” A wave of pride crashes over me. I don’t want a trophy wife who nods to my every command. I want her. I want the brilliant, fiery, stubborn woman who stands her ground against me even when her body is trembling with desire.

“Deal,” I concede, my hands slipping down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against my hard cock. “You keep your career, who you are as a person, and I keep you.” I lean down to capture her lips in a deep kiss, sealing the deal right here and now. Alexandria lets out a soft sigh, and her arms wrap around my neck as she willingly pulls me closer. Her body melts into mine, and heat builds between us when her fingers dig into my upper back as I lift her into my arms.

“Now,” I mutter against her lips, carrying her straight toward her bedroom, “let’s remind you of who you belong to.”

CHAPTER TEN

alexandria

My back meets the mattress, and I slide up until I’m lying in the middle as Dante stands at the food of the bed. His dark eyes are locked on mine as his hands move with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttons his dress shirt, one button after the other, as his fingers work methodically, until it hangs open, showing his solid muscular chest. My fingers desperately want to trace every hard, cut line of his body.

I sit up, grasp the hem of my tank top, and pull it over my head. We undress ourselves piece by piece until he’s standing in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxers and I’m in my lace G-string panties. My thumbs hook into the top, just about to strip out of them, when I think better of it.

“I want to be on top this time.” I get up on my knees, moving closer until my hands land on his shoulders. He grips my hips. “I want to taste you.”

“Whatever you want. I’m all yours, wife.” He enunciateswifemuch like he always does, and I watch as Dante’s eyes flash with a flare of heat, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips. We switch places. His back is to the headboard, his body stretched out, and he props his left leg up with his knee bent, one arm casuallydraped over his knee while the other wraps around his long, thick length, slowly tugging at it with up-and-down motions.

I don’t climb straight into his lap. I sink to my hands and knees at the bottom of the bed, my dark hair tumbling over my shoulders, then crawl up between his legs, my hands sliding along the warm skin of his calves, up his thick thighs, feeling him flex his muscles as he lets out a light hiss of air. I look from where he’s working his length to where my nails are sinking into his skin, more than likely marking him again. And instead of being appalled, I’m infatuated with the idea that he’s wearing something of me on him.

“Alexandria,” he rasps, saying my name in that slow, seductive drawl. My core clenches, greedy to feel him, all of him. It’s not until I’m seated in the middle of his spread legs that I move my hands. I trace the mushroom-shaped head with the tip of my finger, rounding it in a circle. Precum gathers, and I draw it from his cock to my mouth, sucking the digit between my lips with a moan. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes going hooded and tongue slipping out to lick his full lush lips.

He let’s go of his length, and I wrap one hand around his thick shaft, feeling the searing heat radiating off his skin. I lean down, bringing my lips where my finger only traced moments ago. I flick my tongue over the bead of moisture, tasting him directly from the source. A sudden hazy flash of a memory hits me—bright, blinding chapel lights in Vegas, the neon glow of the strip filtering through the open curtains, the taste of champagne on my tongue, and my mouth wrapped around him while he growls into the semi-dark room. It’s fuzzy, blurred around the edges by alcohol and inhibitions, but the taste… the taste is identical, and I definitely remember wanting this even then.

“You remember, don’t you?” Dante rumbles. His hand reaches out to gather my wild hair, holding the curls away from my face so they won’t get in the way of him watching me work hiscock. “You remember taking my cock in your mouth, don’t you, wife?”

“Shut up.” I pull back, blowing air along his shaft before opening my mouth wide and sliding my lips over his head, swallowing him inch by inch. His hand tightens in my hair, not pulling but guiding as his thumb strokes the base of my neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praises me in a dirty, raspy whisper. His eyes watch me with a ravenous, intense focus as I take him to the back of my throat. “Look at you, taking every fucking inch of me. Suck me, Alexandria, take all of your husband.” Dante’s voice comes out with a deep vibration that I swear I can feel in every inch of my body.

I swirl my tongue around his head, working my mouth up and down his shaft, while my hand works the base in sync with my lips. Every time I take him to the back of my throat, he lets out a rough, ragged sigh, his hips lift of the bed, and his hand in the sheets is gripping the fabric taut.

My body shifts, my bare breasts dragging against the cool, soft bed. The friction sends a sharp wave of heat straight to my pussy. My thighs clench, my inner walls pulsing with a deep throb. I’m dripping wet, aching, and so ridiculously needy for him, but I refuse to speed this up.