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He doesn’t say anything for a long moment as he takes me in. I continue swaying, moving my hands above my head as I do.
“No, my Lilah wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn, too brave. You would have fought me at every turn.” I smile, doing a turn to show him the back of me, where my panties disappear, where a tiny red bow sits on top of my ass. He inhales. “Not that you didn’t do that anyway.”
“True,” I say, turning back around to face him, moving my thumb to the strap of my bra, sliding it down.
I can feel Dante’s eyes burning on me.
“You like me stubborn though.”
“I like you any way I can get you,” he says, and again, I smile. His smile is sweeter though, filled with the knowledge of how true and honest his words are.
He does.
He’ll take me however he can.
“Stubborn,” he says, and I move my fingers to the other strap. “Patient.” I push it down. “Loving. Teasing. Siren. Queen.” Each word repairs a part inside of me, the ones he’s constantly reinforcing that get damaged in the day-to-day when my mind starts to win. When I hear Turner’s voice telling me I’m not good enough, when the voices who doubt me start to speak.
And each day, Dante repairs It.
He’s never bored of the job, never exhausted by the responsibility.
Instead, he treats it like an honor.
My fingers move to the back clasp of the bra, letting it fall to the ground.
There’s a sharp intake of breath as it does. I shimmy my shoulders, my tits gently moving as I do, and Dante curses under his breath.
“Yeah, it’s good I didn’t let you do this all those months ago.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, flipping my hair before moving my thumbs to the waistband of my underwear, pushing them down until I’m just in my heels and thigh-highs.
“Because I would have done this,” he says, and then he leans toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me forward. I stumble a bit, but he catches me, and finally, I settle on his lap, straddling him, his hard cock right where I need it most despite the layer of fabric between us. His arm on my waist moves me, rocking me against him and making a deep moan fall from me.
His free hand moves into my hair, tugging the way he loves to, the pull searing in a way I love, the move synched perfectly with my clit.
“Oh, god, fuck,” I murmur as his mouth meets my neck, biting the spot beneath my ear, his teeth just a bit too hard to be called a love bite.
“At home, waiting for you to come home to me, all fucking tipsy and ready to fuck. Wanted you to have this, have this night with your girls, but then you go and fucking start texting me. Telling me what you need, telling me to come to you.” Another moan as he grinds me on his bulge, my clit scraping on the fabric and sending a bolt of heat through me.
“I didn’t think—oh, fuck, Dante,”
“That I’d come? Don’t you know by now, Delilah?” He uses my hair to tug me back, to make it so I can stare in his eyes as he speaks. “You tell me what you need, I make it fucking happen. You wanted to rule; I made you a queen. You wanted to be mine and mine alone and for the word to know it; I’m marrying you twice. You needed me to barge in, fuck you good to ease the ache? I’m right here, baby.”
A heavy breath comes from my chest as I start to move on my own, his hand helping but also slowly moving, over my hip, down the leg straddling him, then back up and in, tickling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his rough thumb hitting the crease where my leg meets, where I need him most.
“Dante,” I whimper.
“What is it, baby?”
“You know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I need you.” His face is in my neck, his breathing hard there as he pants against my skin.
He might be playing the game of riling me up, but he needs me just as bad.
“I need you to fuck me, Dante. I’m so fucking empty without you,” I moan, and he groans against my neck, pushing me down again to grind, but this time, I’m riding his hand.
