His words make me melt against him. His mouth returns to my neck as his finger drag my robe from my shoulders. Before it drops to the floor, he snatches it with his hand and slips the silk belt from its loops.
“What are you—?”
“Shh.” The corner of his mouth rises as he holds my upper arms and steers me backward. “Just making sure I’ve got you where I want you for as long as necessary.”
When we reach his bed, he takes me by my waist and effortlessly lifts me onto his mattress. The movement causes my thin nightdress to raise above my navel, exposing my underwear to him.
And the dagger sheathed to my thigh.
He smirks, his gaze slowly coming up my body until our eyes meet. “Expecting trouble, Highness?”
“One can never be too careful.” I reach for the strap. “Should I—?”
He wraps his hand around my arm to stop me. “No. Let me. I’m in control now.”
I’m too turned on to respond. His hungry gaze roams over me for a moment before he gathers my wrists together and wraps the silk belt around them.
I bite my lip, my excitement for what he has planned intensifying. He nudges my legs apart with his knee and hovers over me while he fastens the belt to one of the cast-iron bars of his headboard.
“Lord Stregasi,” I tease. “You’re so naughty.”
He raises a brow. “You show up in my room wearing this,” he starts, indicating the gauzy material barely concealing my breasts, “something so thin, it makes my cock twitch, and you thinkI’mthe naughty one?”
The smile that begins on my mouth gets stolen away by his lips, his kiss deep and passionate. I try to hold on to the kiss, but his lips trail down my jaw, my throat, and when he reaches my breasts, he deftly grabs the material of my nightgown and rips it in half as if it were nothing. My nipples harden as they are exposed to the air, and Dante doesn’t hesitate to descend on one, and then the other, nipping and sucking each into his hot mouth as I emit tiny gasps and writhe beneath him. I’m soaking wet watching him trail his tongue down the curves of my breasts, down my quivering stomach, until he reaches the waist of my underwear.
He lifts his head, his eyes locked on mine as he scoots back, and his fingers trail down to the strap of my dagger’s sheath. He gently unbuckles it and pulls it away from my body, then he lets his feather-light touch traverse up my thigh before tugging at the material of my underwear. He takes his time, slowly pulling the material down my legs, his gaze taking in every inch of me. I squirm, desperate to reach out and pull him back on top of me but unable to move because my hands are restrained.
“Something wrong, little pirate?”
I smirk at the nickname—something he derived from his taunts about Delasurvians having pirate backgrounds. It used to annoy me, but now it gives me a thrill when he says it.
He slides off the bed, and once he’s on his feet, he yanks his shirt off with one swift move. Candlelight flickers on the sculpted muscle of his chest and arms.
“Just… impatient,” I say, my chest heaving from the thrill of anticipation.
“I can see that.” He steps out of his shoes and undoes the button of his pants, then pulls them down along with his underpants. His hard cock, now free, indeed twitches. He shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “You’re soaking my sheets, Princess. I think I might need to punish you.”
I can only hum in response, my body quaking, desperate for his touch. But instead of stepping toward me, he turns around and traipses to a small table by his chaise. I’m so confused about what he’s doing, but the mystery is exhilarating. When he turns around to face me again, he’s holding a flower he plucked from the vase. He twirls the stem between his fingers as he saunters back to the bed. I realize then that it’s a peony.
“Tell me again what you want,” he demands, climbing onto the mattress one leg at a time until he’s kneeling beside me.
“I want you.”
He uses the soft petals of the peony to caress my cheek. “Be more specific. What do you want me to do to you?”
“Dante, please.”
He trails the flower down to my chest, outlining my breasts with feather-light strokes. My pulse races, my senses in a frenzy.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice low and sultry.
“I want you to touch me. I want you to fuck me.” I pant, my blood rushing in my ears. With him, there’s no need to hold back, no need to worry about accidentally becoming with child. Preventing pregnancies is one of the many powers sirens possess.
He smirks, running the peony down my abdomen. “Hmm, I’ll make a deal with you.”
Is he fucking serious?
“You stay perfectly still,” he continues, “while I play with your gorgeous body. And if you remain quiet, I’ll give that wet pussy exactly what it’s craving.”
