His fingers dig lightly into my hips not to dominate but to anchor himself amid the growing intensity.
The second climax begins to form low in my belly like before but stronger this time from the prolonged buildup.
Every downward motion amplifies it until I'm chasing that peak so intensely I forget everything else.
Dante senses me nearing the edge and matches my energy perfectly without overtaking it.
"Let go for me again," he encourages softly while looking up into my eyes.
The hooded gaze and his rumbling tone tip me over into oblivion again as pleasure explodes outward from my core in powerful spasms.
My inner walls flutter around him tightly while I ride out the waves above him.
He follows soon after with a deep groan that vibrates through both our bodies together.
His release floods warmth inside me as his hips buck upward one final time before stilling completely beneath mine.
We hold each other through those shared peaks until exhaustion claims us both.
I collapse forward onto his chest while he wraps strong arms around my back protectively.
Our breathing syncs gradually as heart rates slow back down toward normalcy together.
I let myself absorb this feeling.
The warmth of his body against mine.
The safety of his arms around me.
The intimacy of lying here in the darkness with someone who makes me feel seen and wanted.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe I could let go of my fear and trust that he'll protect us and Sofia could have the father she deserves and I could have the partner I never thought I would find.
I see how hard he's been trying and I want so badly to believe that he could be capable of putting his life away from us to give our daughter a normal one.
But then I shift slightly and my hand brushes against his knuckle.
I feel something rough there that wasn't there before.
I lift my head and look at his hand and see that there's a fresh scab across his knuckles.
It wasn't there before the concert.
I sit up and turn on the bedside lamp.
Dante squints against the light and props himself up on one elbow as I slide off him and let his sex drain from my body.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
I take his hand and examine the scrape more closely. "Where did this come from?"
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. You didn't have this earlier tonight." My chest is starting to knot up, and I think I might be sick. He's been lying to me, hiding something.
He pulls his hand away. "I must've scraped it on something. I don't remember."
