“Look at me,” I say, and when her eyes meet mine, the hesitation is still there…but so is the heat.
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers—not taking, not demanding, just giving her the choice. She closes the distance herself, kissing me softly at first, then with more urgency as my thumb teases her nipple in slow, lazy strokes.
The tiny sound she makes against my mouth—that soft, helpless whimper—has my cock throbbing. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer, and that’s when I know the hesitation is gone.
Her mouth is warm against mine, but it’s not enough. I want her under me, spread out where I can see every inch of her. Without breaking the kiss, I slip an arm under her thighs, another around her back, and lift her.
She gasps, breaking the kiss. “Dante?—”
“Shh.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. She’s lighter than I expect, soft in my arms, the baby doll brushing against my wrist as I carry her across the room.
Her eyes search mine, like she can’t quite believe I want her this badly. That I’m this gone for her.
I set her down on the bed, slow, letting her sink into the covers. The hem of the baby doll rides up her thighs, and my gaze catches on the bare skin between them. My cock pulses hard, demanding I get between her legs and taste her, claim her.
She props herself on her elbows, watching me, still looking like she’s trying to figure out what exactly she’s started.
I climb onto the bed, caging her in with my arms. “You have no idea,” I tell her, my voice low, “how hard I am for you right now.”
Her lips part, just slightly, and that small flicker of surprise in her eyes makes me want to show her—with my mouth, my hands, my cock—exactly how much I mean it.
I dip my head, kissing the side of her neck, my hand sliding up her thigh, feeling the heat radiating from her core.
“Dante…” she whispers, like it’s half a warning and half a plea.
Her thighs tense under my hand, but she doesn’t stop me. I ease her legs apart, slow, my palm stroking the smooth skin inside until my fingertips meet heat.
The lace is damp.
I grin against her neck, breathing her in. “Already wet for me,” I murmur, dragging my knuckles lightly over her slit.
She lets out the smallest gasp, her hips shifting like she’s trying not to push into my hand. I hook a finger in the lace and slide it aside, and fuck—she’s glistening, the scent of her hitting me hard enough that my cock throbs.
I lower myself, kissing my way down her chest, over her stomach, until my mouth is just above where I want it to be. She watches me with wide eyes, still looking like she’s not sure she’s ready, until my tongue slides over her, slow and deep.
Her back arches, a sharp breath hissing through her teeth.
I do it again, savoring the taste of her, my hands gripping her thighs to keep her open for me. Every flick of my tongue draws another soft sound from her lips, each one breaking a little more of her composure.
When I suck her clit into my mouth, her hand shoots to my hair, fingers tangling hard. “Dante?—”
I look up at her, my mouth still working her, and the sight of her flushed and panting nearly undoes me.
I slip a finger inside her, slow, feeling her tight walls clamp down around me. Then another, curling just right, while my tongue works faster. Her hips start to move against my mouth, chasing it, her breaths coming in short, desperate bursts.
“Let go for me,” I tell her, my voice vibrating against her. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
Like an obedient little pet, she lets herself go, her thighs clenching around my head as I eat her through it.
When I finally pull back, my chin is wet, my cock straining painfully against my zipper. She’s flushed, breathing hard, her nipples tight under the thin straps of the baby doll.
I crawl up over her, kissing her deeply so she can taste herself on my tongue. My hand finds my zipper, dragging it down, freeing my cock. The head brushes her thigh, and I swear I feel her shiver.
I line myself up, the tip pressing against her entrance?—
“Wait.”
It’s barely more than a whisper, but I freeze instantly. Her eyes are wide again, like they were earlier, that same flicker of uncertainty breaking through the haze of lust.