Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“I missed this so fucking much.” He breathes the words over my lips. “You have no idea.”
“I missed this too,” I whisper.
He pauses, his serious gaze meeting mine. “Say that again. Say it like you mean it.”
“I do mean it.” I cup his cheek. “I missed this. Us.”
As if he has to convince himself of the truth of my words, he hesitates. But then his jaw sets with determination. “Fuck it.”
Gripping the back of my thighs, he yanks me to the edge of the seat. I’m forced to grasp his shoulders for balance. His rock-hard cock presses like a hot promise between my legs. He flicks my skirt up higher over my waist, watching as he positions the broad crest against my opening. He locks his fingers on my hips and holds me in place as he carefully parts my folds before sinking inside me slowly. Concentration is etched on his face. Dante has always put my pleasure first. He’s always been careful not to hurt me.
He doesn’t look away from the center of my legs. He watches how hard my sex works for him, how it stretches to swallow him until he’s buried as deep as he can go. He watches how my back bows when he brushes a forefinger too lightly over my clit. When he gathers my arousal and massages that sensitive spot in circles, he manages to manipulate my pussy into taking even more of him as it dilates. My inner muscles clench around him, pulling him deeper.
“Fuck, Tatiana. Just like that.”
He tears his gaze from where we’re joined to look at my breasts. Rocking his hips, he watches them sway with the movement. He looks at my half-naked body as if he’s seeing it for the first time when we’ve been sleeping together since I turned nineteen. I’ve always been his, only his, but he’s staring at me as if he’s trying to own me, as if I’m not already wearing his ring on my finger and signing his surname after my name.
He moves with shallow thrusts. “I want you.”
“You have me.”
Abandoning my clit, he strokes his hands over my hips and locks them around my waist to keep me in place as he pumps harder.
My desperate moans fill the room.
He flattens his palms on my stomach and drags them over my chest until he’s framing my bouncing breasts. He watches the show for a while before increasing his pace and rolling my nipples between his fingers. Then he spreads his palms over my breasts and digs his fingers into the curves, holding on to them as he pummels my pussy in earnest.
I’m about to lose all reason when he finally fixes his gaze on my face. He always looks into my eyes when he makes me come.
He takes my wrists where my hands are resting on his shoulders and pins them on the window next to my face before kissing a tender spot on my neck.
“Dante.”
“Is this what you want?” He kisses my jaw and then my lips. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I cry out.
I’m so close.
He lets go of my left hand. “Keep it there, or I won’t let you come.”
Obediently, I keep the back of my hand plastered against the cool glass of the window as he presses his thumb on my clit. The pressure alone is enough to send me over the edge. Dante is right there with me, his release drawing his body taut as he empties himself inside me. All the while, he watches my face, sees the evidence of the pleasure he’s giving me in the silent parting of my lips and the pulse fluttering in my neck.
He bites down on that vein where my heart beats for him before kissing away the sting. When he releases my wrist, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him to me, unwilling to let him go.
He peppers my face, neck, and shoulders with kisses before he pulls out. Still watching me, he straightens and adjusts his clothes. I let him look, showing him what he does to me.
He grabs a box of tissues from the desk and pushes my thighs open wider to clean me.
The smile he offers me is meant to be intimate, but for some reason, it seems stilted.
“Shower?” He offers me a hand. “Jasper and Noah should be back soon.”
I let him pull me to my feet, puzzled by his sudden emotional withdrawal after what we’ve just shared.
He picks me up and carries me upstairs. In the shower, he washes my body and shampoos my hair before cleaning himself.
We dry ourselves off in silence. I sneak a look at him as I pull on a fluffy bathrobe. He seems caught up in his thoughts, so I don’t raise the subject. I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. Maybe I’m just being overly needy and sensitive. The last thing I want is to become a nagging wife. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss, that Dante and I aren’t the couple I remember.