The words weren’t about tonight.They were about every year I had spent wondering, worrying.About every version of her I had carried in my head when the nights got too quiet and the ghosts got too loud.Did she sleep okay?Was she worried someone else would pop up and steal life out from under her again?
Her breath hitched.I felt it against my chest.Felt her fingers slide into my hair, holding me there like she understood exactly what that meant.
I kissed her again—her neck, her collarbone, the place where her shoulder met her throat—slow, deliberate, like a man reminding himself what it felt like to touch something sacred.
I stayed there, holding her pulse under my fingers, grounding myself in the simple truth of it.
Alive.
Safe.
Present.
And for this one night, in this small room that smelled like soap and borrowed time, connected again.
No words were spoken as I felt the passion build between us.She arched into me, my cock ached to be free of my jeans.She made the move.
The one I had waited for.
She reached out to my belt buckle releasing it.That was my undoing.Pushing the robe off her shoulders, it fell to the floor in a puddle at our feet.I cupped her breasts through the silk fabric of her nightie as she arches into my grasp.I ran my thumb over her taut nipples as she moaned into my kiss.Her hand slid down into my jeans, stroking me.I slid my right hand up the back of her thick thigh before giving her ass a squeeze, finding she wore thong panties.My erection was painfully hard as she tugged at my jeans pushing them down over my ass.Leaning down, I scooped her up, wrapping her legs around my waist.My fingers moved, pushing the sting of the thong aside and sliding between her wet pussy lips.Instincts took over as she began to grind against my digits building her want as I plunged two fingers in her.
I was losing hold of the little control I had left wanting nothing more than my cock buried inside her slick cunt.
“Dante,” she whispered.
It was my undoing.Having her moisture on my fingers, my cock so close, I lined her up and slid in.My own groan of satisfaction couldn’t be contained.I paused memorizing the feel of her pussy pulsing around my cock.I dropped my head to her shoulder, my tongue flicking out on her neck.
She shimmied her hips wanting me to move.That was all it took.I began sliding in and out of her slowly at first before want, need, desire all consumed me and I found myself thrusting hard and fast.Nita meeting me each time with her own climax just on the edge.
Sliding my hand between us, moving my thumb to press on her clit it was all it took before her pussy tightened around me, she cried out my name as she came and she came hard.
It wasn’t long before I had my final thrust, my cum shooting inside her and our bodies pulsing in rhythm together.
Alive together.
Chapter14
Nita
Iwoke slowly, the way you do when your body feels too heavy and too good all at once.The first thing I noticed was the soreness—not in a bad way.The kind that settled deep in my muscles, in my hips, between my thighs.A delicious reminder that sleep had been earned the hard way.
Three times through the night, each one blurring into the next until time stopped meaning anything except the rise and fall of breath, the slide of his skin against my own, and the low sounds he made like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.
Dante was still asleep beside me.And I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I believed any of this was real.I was certainly daydreaming or living in some delusion because how did we get here?
That realization hit harder than the ache.This was my reality.Here and now, I can touch him.The most amazing night of my life ended up being with the most unexpected person.
Was he sexy?Absolutely.
Was he the kind of man I was attracted to and not just physically but as a man with honor, integrity, and a moral code of his own?Even more so he ticked every box.
I just never once imagined this would be where we would end up.
Sunlight leaked through the thin curtains, striping his bare chest in layers of light against the golden glow of his tan skin.He was on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other loose at his side—unguarded in a way I had never seen him.His muscles flexing and relaxing with every breath.His face was softer like this.No scowl.No tension carved deep into his brow.Just a man at rest, lashes dark against weathered skin, mouth slack with sleep.At peace.
Fifty-two years old, fit as a twenty-year old, God help me, he was still stunning from the top of his head down to the bottoms of his toes.
I lay there longer than I should have, staring.Cataloging.Letting myself feel the weight of him beside me without pretending it meant something more.The sheets were tangled around our legs, the room still held the faint heat of bodies that hadn’t wanted to be apart.
