The vulnerability in his eyes, the raw need in his voice, undid me completely. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a moment before pulling out a small bottle. Lube. He’d been prepared for this. The thought that he’d been hoping, planning, made my cock throb.
“Here.” He pressed the bottle into my hand, then shifted onto his side, wincing slightly at the movement. “Just... take your time. And if I tell you to stop, you stop. Okay?”
“Of course.” My hands were shaking as I flipped open the cap. “Dante, are you sure? Your ribs?—”
“Are fine.” He looked back at me over his shoulder, and the heat in his eyes could’ve melted steel. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
I poured lube onto my fingers, the cool liquid warming quickly against my skin. I’d been with women before, so I knew the basics of what I was supposed to do. But doing them with a man was different. This was Dante. This mattered.
I reached between his legs, finding the tight ring of muscle. He tensed at the first touch, then deliberately relaxed, breathing out slowly.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “You’ll have to work me open first.”
I circled slowly, getting him used to the sensation, then carefully pressed one finger inside. He was tight, so tight, and hot, and I felt him clench around me.
“Fuck,” he gasped, his hand fisting in the sheets.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. God, no. Keep going.”
I worked my finger deeper, marveling at the feeling. He was breathing hard now, his back arching slightly as I found a rhythm. When I crooked my finger, searching, he let out a strangled moan that went straight to my cock.
“There,” he panted. “Right there, fuck?—”
I added more lube, then carefully worked a second finger in alongside the first. He was panting now, his hips pushing back against my hand, and I was mesmerized by the sight of him taking my fingers, opening up for me.
“More,” he demanded. “I can take more.”
I added a third finger, stretching him carefully, watching his face for any sign of pain. But all I saw was pleasure, his mouth falling open on a moan as I worked him open.
“Nick, please.” His voice was wrecked. “I’m ready. I need you inside me.”
I withdrew my fingers, slicking up my cock with trembling hands. This was really happening. I was about to fuck Dante Valenti, myhusband, and the thought made me dizzy with want.
I positioned myself behind him, the head of my cock pressing against his entrance. He reached back, his hand finding my hip, pulling me closer.
“Go ahead,” he breathed. “I want it.”
I pushed forward slowly, feeling him resist at first, then gradually open up. The head of my cock slipped inside, and we both groaned at the sensation. He was so tight, so hot, and every instinct was screaming at me to just thrust forward, to bury myself completely.
But I held back, giving him time to adjust. His breathing was harsh, his body tense, and I rubbed soothing circles on his hip with my thumb.
“You okay?” My voice came out strangled.
“Yeah. Just... give me a second.” He breathed out slowly, deliberately relaxing. “Okay. More.”
I pushed forward another inch, then another, until finally I was fully seated inside him. The feeling was indescribable—better than anything I’d ever experienced. I was buried to the hilt in Dante, connected to him in the most intimate way possible, and it felt right in a way that terrified me.
“Move,” he gasped. “Please, Nick, I need you to move.”
I pulled back slowly, then pushed forward again, setting a careful rhythm. His hand gripped my hip harder, guiding me, and I could feel him pushing back to meet each thrust.
“Harder,” he demanded. “I’m not going to break.”
I tightened my grip on his hip and increased my pace, thrusting deeper. The sounds he was making were obscene, desperate little gasps and moans that made me lose my mind. I’d never felt anything like this, never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.
