Reaching between us, I roll her clit between my fingers. “Have you taken another man’s cock in your cunt, Tatiana?”
“Ah.” She arches her hips when I don’t move. “Please.”
She’s always loved it when I made her orgasm with breast play and clit stimulation, but she loved it even more when I didn’t leave her pussy empty.
I massage her clit in circles, slowly working her need higher. She squirms on the vanity, trying to move her ass, and when her muscles start to tighten around me, I pinch her clit and let go.
She makes a sound of frustration, rolling her hips to create the friction I’m denying her. When that doesn’t work, she touches herself. I grab her arms and move them behind her back. Holding both her wrists in one hand pinned against her spine, I lock the other on her hip.
“Dante.” She almost sounds in pain. “What are you doing?”
“How many?”
“W-what?”
“How many men?”
“Why?” she cries out. “Why is that important?”
Pulling back until only the head of my cock is splitting her open, I hover there for a second before claiming every inch she has to give by slamming back in.
“Because you’re mine.” I ram my painfully hard dick into her, again and again, the thread of my self-control snapping. “And you have no right to give away what belongs to me.”
Her small body quivers. I can’t tell if it’s the honesty of my statement or the brutal way in which I’m fucking her. I pound the truth into her, thrust by savage thrust, moving hard enough to make her delirious with need but too slowly for release.
“Dante.”
Another punishing slow thrust, and she screams my name again.
The force of my hips as I slam them between her legs and fuse our groins only to pull out before she can rub against me is enough to make it seem as if her body is caught in a crossfire. I don’t give her more or less. I keep her on the edge until she shakes and shivers and finally begs in a hoarse voice.
“Dante, please.”
I stop moving. “How many?”
“No one,” she cries out. “There was no one but you.”
The truth is written in the vulnerable expression on her face. She can’t hide behind a mask when ecstasy has ripped it away and cut her open, leaving her exposed. The honesty is evident in the defeated sob that escapes her lips. She didn’t want me to know. She didn’t want to admit that even after everything I did to her, she’s still been true to me, that I’ve been the only one.
A growl of satisfaction tears from my chest. Not holding back any longer, I give her the reward she deserves. I give her what I would’ve given her even if she’d fucked every man between New York and Denver. I give her what only I have the right to give, letting go of her hip to slip a hand between our bodies.
She comes at the second swipe of my thumb over her clit, her throaty moan half relieved and half slain. I give her the promise of my protection and another baby as I empty inside her. I’m yet to get her an oral contraceptive. But the idea of giving Noah a brother or sister has grown on me. Tatiana loves kids. She’ll love the next one I put in her belly just as much as she loves our son.
Closing her eyes, she leans her head on my shoulder. I keep her trapped against me with her hands pinned at her back and my cock buried inside her as I brush a kiss over her neck. She shivers, but she doesn’t object, so I kiss her again before nipping the soft flesh where her neck meets her shoulder.
When I aim for the corner of her mouth, she pulls away. Her lashes lift, revealing the jade green of her eyes that’s so clear right now, I swear I can see right into her soul.
She bites her lip and looks away, not asking me to release her. She knows it won’t help, that I’ll only do so when I’m ready.
I’m reluctant to leave the heat of her body. At least in that regard she welcomes me. I pull out nevertheless. It’s been a long day for her too. Like Noah, she had to cope with a lot.
Giving her the choice, I set her free. She doesn’t invite me to join her in the shower. She can barely stand on her feet when she hops from the vanity and pulls her dress down to cover herself, but she walks away, leaving the bathroom to me.
Only my steel-like self-control prevents me from chasing after her. But I can’t force her hand, not in this. It’s my job to know what she needs, and what she needs is patience.
The bedroom door opens and closes. After a moment, the shower comes on in the next-door bathroom. I just came, but frustration surges hot and irritably through me. The release only eased the physical need. The part of me that wants everything remains unsatisfied.
I shower and dress in pajama bottoms before checking on Noah. He’s still soundly asleep, clutching his dinosaur in his arms.
