Dante’s mouth claimed mine in a kiss that stole the last fragments of my resistance. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, possessive, and deep — his tongue sliding against mine with deliberate strokes that made my head spin. I moaned into him, hands clutching at his shirt as years of built-up desperation poured out of me in trembling waves.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, dark eyes blazing. “Look at you, little bunny. Finally begging so prettily.”
One large hand stayed on my hip, holding me steady on the edge of the glass dining table, while the other slid slowly between my spread thighs. His fingers brushed through my soaked folds, parting them with teasing strokes. I was embarrassingly wet — slick coating his fingertips instantly as he circled my swollen c**t with light, maddeni
