Page 91 of Bad Girl Dilemma

And when we burst into the penthouse, the door slamming shut behind us, the only thing louder than the alarms in my blood is the sound of our laughter.

Dante locks the door. I’m already kicking off my heels. Unzipping my skirt. Peeling off the sheer blouse and jacket like I’m shedding skin.

“Was I good?” I ask, backing toward the playroom, my collar catching the light like a gleaming promise, skirt around my thighs.

He doesn’t answer with words.

Hestalks.

All that predator energy still coiled tight from the job, now zeroed in on me. His tie still hanging loose. His sleeves rolled up. His eyes locked on my dripping heat between my thighs.

“You were fuckingbrilliant,” he growls.

He catches me before I can reach the mat, yanks me flush against him, then spins me, bending me over the padded edge like I’m a gift he’s waitedall nightto unwrap.

The spreader bars keep my legs wide open.

The plug pops free with a slick, obscene sound, and I whimper as cool air teases my sphincter. My knees wobble. My pussy clenches.

I’m so wet I can feel it dripping down my thighs.

Dante groans behind me. “You came from the thrill, didn’t you?”

I can’t lie to him. Not when his fingers stroke through my soaked folds, not when one slides inside me like it knowsexactlywhere I ache.

“Maybe,” I breathe. “Or maybe I just really wanted my reward.”

Dante

She gaspswhen I push in.

Tight.

So tight. So fucking sublime.

My cock stretches her inch by inch, the resistance divine, her body trembling against mine as I fill her slowly—carefully. But not too carefully. She wants the stretch. Craves the pressure. Has begged for it, over and over, until I promised her this.

“God, you were made for this,” I rasp, my grip iron around her hips. My fingers bruise with reverence. My control barely holding. “This ass... fuck, baby. You love giving me this part of you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathes, and her voice breaks on the words.

That sound.

That surrender.

It goes straight to my chest like a detonation. A soul-deep quake.

“You love being my good little thief.” I slam in deeper, groaning at how her body strangles my cock, at how perfectly sheyields.

She whimpers. Just a little.

And it shatters me.

Because she’s everything—this wild, brilliant, impossible woman who crawled under my skin like a drug andstayed. Who turned my world inside out and then rebuilt it, better and more beautiful than I ever deserved.

I wrap her hair around my fist, drag her upright until her spine curves against my chest. Her head lolls to the side, exposing the diamond-studded collar at her throat. I kiss it. Bite it.

“Know what I’m going to do,” I growl into her ear, “after I make you come?”

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