twenty-five

Tessa

It’s been several hours since breakfast, and I can still feel the phantom touch of Dante’s warm hands on my face. His words echo in my ears.

“…it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to strip you down and show you just how enough you are.”

The thought of him stripping me bare causes desire to ripple over my skin. I crave the forbidden fruit. Raw and hungry and needy to the point that picturing Dante while I bring myself to climax isn’t going to assuage the ache. Tonight, I need more. I need him.

Shoving my feet into my shoes, I creep quietly down the stairs, knowing exactly where to step to avoid the creak of the floorboards—a sort of muscle memory that stems from spending my entire childhood in the same house. I slip out the door and into the night, using the light from the streetlamps to guide me. There are at least a hundred reasons this is a bad idea, but I choose to ignore them all until I’m standing on Dante’s porch. Before I can backtrack, the motion detector comes on, making my presence known and leaving me like a deer caught in headlights.

Dante stands in the open doorway, wearing only a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips. My eyes travel slowly down his body to the trail of hair at his belly button. Then, lower to where it disappears beneath his waistband. My gaze drifts back to his face, and wordlessly, I step closer. And closer until I’m standing right in front of him. The moonlight reflects in his eyes, making his dark orbs seem endless. A warm breeze kicks up and blows hair into my face.

Dante raises his hand to tuck the wayward strands behind my ear, and then he drags the pad of his thumb across my lip. “What are you doing here, Tessa?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He dips his head, and our mouths are a fraction apart. “Tessa,” he whispers before ghosting his lips across mine. Featherlight, more caress than a kiss.

Pulling away, he holds out his hand, silently inviting me in, and I willingly accept.

He closes the door behind us and backs me against it, planting his palms on either side of me. “I’ll give you whatever you need, but I can’t do that unless you tell me what it is.”

I take a deep breath. “Show me I’m enough.” Vulnerable and exposed, I wait for his reaction. I see the questions in his eyes. The ones I can’t answer.

Dante angles my head, and this time, when he kisses me, it’s not light or delicate. It’s deeper. Hungry. Searching.

When he breaks away, he asks me the one question I can answer, “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to worry about what will happen when the sun comes up. I want this more than anything.”

Dante takes me by the hand and leads me into the bedroom. I’m certain he can hear the hammering of my heart that grows louder with every step. Moonlight fills the space, giving it a soft ambient glow, the perfect backdrop for a man reminiscent of a Greek god.

“I want to touch you,” I confess.

He takes my hand and places it on his chest. I trace the outline of his chiseled abdominal muscles with my index finger.

“I want you to touch me.” My voice is breathy, lecherous, and unrecognizable.

Dante shifts my hair to the side and drops his mouth to the sensual spot where my neck and shoulder meet. His touch, the scruff of his beard against my skin—it’s the best kind of sensory overload. My breath catches, and I forget to exhale.

As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “Breathe, Tessa.”

Dante’s hands travel to the hem of my shirt. As he gathers the material, his knuckles skate over my bare skin, sending shivers up my spine. I watch him sink to his knees, hands going to the button of my jeans. Leisurely, he unfastens them and slides them off my hips. His dark hair tickles my stomach. I can’t resist the urge to run my fingers through it while Dante trails the tip of his tongue from one hip to the other.

“Mmm,” I moan, relishing the heat of his touch.

The tip of his nose skims my pussy. “You smell so fucking good,” he says, inhaling deeply. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Yes, please.”

“Patience.” He laughs and rises to his feet.

My lips part for him, and our tongues twist like partners in a dance of desire. Dante unfastens my bra and drags the straps down my arms, letting the material fall to the floor. God, the way he looks at me, it’s like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and he wants to commit every inch of my body to memory.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Tessa,” he says, bending to kiss me.

He walks us backward, laying me down on the bed, hovering over me, and I place my hands on his biceps.

“If you change your mind, I’ll stop,” he assures me.

“I want this, Dante.”

Those three words seem to untether something inside him. He kisses me again before slipping lower to drag his tongue in the valley between my breasts. Drawing one pebbled nipple into his mouth, he swirls his tongue over it and then nips the sensitive flesh, his teeth causing me to buck beneath him.

“That feels so good,” I tell him. And, God, do I mean it.

His lips twist in a smirk against my skin.

Dante treats my other nipple to the same sweet torture. Languidly, his lips work their way down my body, kissing until they halt at the edge of my thong. Every cell in my body hammers in anticipation, and I raise my head to look at him.

“I need to taste you,” he says, ridding me of the lacy barrier.

“Yes.” The single syllable comes out like a breathy plea.

Spreading my legs wide, he starts at my ankle and kisses his way up. His bristly whiskers scratch my inner thigh, and I squirm against his mouth.

“Please,” I beg, unashamed.

“We have all night, Tess. I’ll take care of you, I promise. But there’s no way in hell I’m rushing this.” His beard grazes over my bare pussy before he kisses his way down the opposite leg.

Heat pools in my core. The hard ridges of his muscles flex, and his steely cock presses against me through the sleek material of his basketball shorts.

He pins my arms above my head. “Keep your hands up here. If you move them again, I’ll tie you to the headboard.”

His words turn me on, and I lick my lips. He notices and grins.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I told you, I’ll take care of you. Tonight, your pleasure belongs to me.” He drops a chaste kiss to my mouth and then resumes his position between my legs.

He spreads me open, sweeping his tongue through my slit. “So fucking sweet.” With unhurried, deliberate strokes, he starts fucking me with his mouth.

“Ah,” I moan.

I want to touch him. Test him to see if he’ll really tie me up. But I also want to yield to him, to let him take care of me the way he wants to…the way I need him to. I fist the sheets, keeping my hands where he told me. Moving my pelvis, I rock into his mouth, creating friction, adjusting the angle of my hips. It feels so good; I’m so close.

As if Dante can sense how close I am, he backs off, and I groan in frustration.

“All. Fucking. Night. Tessa.” He growls each word.

“Dante, please.”

He’s purposely driving me to the brink of insanity.

Dante’s mouth moves to my breast while he slips one finger inside me and then two. His skillful fingers arc alongside my walls, making a come-here motion.

I watch as he withdraws his fingers and sticks them in his mouth to lick them clean. His face lowers to my hot center, and his tongue delves inside once more. Dante feasts on my pussy like it’s his last meal, and I savor every second of the delicious assault.