“You ready for another round?” he murmured, but his eyes said he already knew my answer.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I said, and meant it more than I’d ever meant anything.
That was all he needed.
The next kiss stole my breath completely, and then there was no more space between us — only the soft slide of hands, the clash of bodies, the sharp relief of finally,finallygiving in. I reached into my nightstand and handed him a condom, and when Dante handed it back to me to put it on him, it made the moment even more intimate.
The sex wasn’t uncontrolled this time. It wasn’t as urgent. Every movement was deliberate, every thrust a claiming. His hand laced with mine, fingers squeezing tight, grounding me in him, eyes locked on mine.
When my release came, it wasn’t a blaze; it was an explosion that cracked me open and left me trembling, held together only because he was holding me.
Dante buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he shuddered through his own release, the sound he made guttural, raw, and undone, his teeth grazing over the vein in my neck, as if he could taste the heat of my pulse through my skin.
Afterward, we didn’t move right away. He stayed half on top of me, weight heavy, heartbeat thunderous against mine. His lips brushed over my temple like he couldn’t help himself.
“Well, we’re going to need to do that every day,” he murmured, looking down at me with that familiar gleam in his eyes.
“Every day?” I gave him a shy smile. “I think you need your energy for other things, don’t you?”
“Nope.” He rolled off me, removed the condom, and looked over the side of the bed, dropping it in the trash with the other one. “Give me a minute,” he whispered against my mouth, pressing a kiss to my lips before he got up and went to the bathroom.
He was back quickly, and we swapped places as I visited the bathroom and prayed to God he couldn’t hear me peeing.
When I came back out, he was lying on his back, my blanket around his hips, one hand behind his head, and staring at the ceiling.
“You staying?” I asked, pulling on my sleep shorts and a shirt.
Dante frowned. “You want me to go?”
I shook my head. “No, I-I’d like it if you stayed,” I admitted.
“I’d like it if you take all those clothes off,” he said with a smile as I climbed back into bed beside him.
“I’m wearing two articles of clothing,” I told him drily as I lay back down.
“Two too many.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I wiggled to get comfortable, and then he moved, pulled me in tighter to his side, so my head was on the crook of his arm, and my arm was draped over his torso.
We lay tangled in silence, his hand running slowly up and down my arm, my pulse still trying to slow.
It should have felt like the end of something reckless. Instead, it felt terrifyingly like the beginning.
My fingers moved over his skin as I watched him. His eyes were closed, and he looked... content. I was careful to stay away from trailing my fingers any lower, even though I desperately wanted to, and I saw the slight curl of his mouth, and he knew exactly what I was avoiding.
He picked up my hand and placed it around his thick cock.
“You don’t need to hesitate,” he murmured. “If you want to touch me, you will always have my permission, okay?” He lifted his head, and even at the awkward angle, he managed to kiss the top of my nose.
I gave his cock a subtle squeeze. “I would say you’re unbearably smug about this, but I guess you have the right to be.”
He laughed out loud and turned, my hand dropping off him as he did. We lay on our sides facing each other.
“I need a minute,” he told me with a wry smile. “Then I’ll happily make you come again.”
I shook my head, the movement restricted by how we were lying. “I’m sleepy.”
His fingers trailed lightly from my temple to my jawline. “Well, I’ll wake you up when you’re ready.”
