Her laugh is breathless, shaky, her fingers working my belt with clumsy urgency. "Less talking. More touching,Dante." She crooks a finger in my direction. Then her hands still on my buckle and her eyes lift to mine with a curiosity that cuts through the heat. "Why Dante? Of all the names you could have chosen that night, why that one?"
The question catches me off guard, her timing impeccable. She’s asking the one thing I didn't prepare for in the middle of a moment where my defenses are already on the floor with my shirt.
"Dante Alighieri. The man who mapped Hell." I brush a strand of blue-tipped hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I've spent most of my life walking through dark places. Seemed fitting to name myself after the only man who made the journey and came out the other side."
Her fingers resume their work on my belt, slower now, more deliberate. "And did you? Come out the other side?"
"Not until you." I lower my mouth to the curve of her throat and feel her pulse jump beneath my lips.
Her fingers slide into my hair and she tilts my face down until our eyes meet, her gaze soft with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. "Then I'm glad you found your way out, Devil." She presses her lips to mine in a kiss that carries the warmth of a woman who has no idea how literal my words are, and thesweetness of her trust guts me in ways I refuse to examine right now. "Now stop being poetic and take me to bed."
The way she drags me mentally back to the first time I took her shoots a fresh wave of need through me.
I oblige.
My hands map the terrain of her body as we stumble toward the bed, learning her curves by touch, cataloging every gasp and shiver. The backs of her knees hit the mattress and she falls backward, pulling me down with her, our bodies tangling together in a desperate press of heated skin.
But when I settle over her, something shifts.
The desperation fades into reverence.
I trace the curve of her jaw with my lips, tasting the salt of her skin, the faint sweetness of whatever lotion she used after her shower. She shivers beneath me, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging the leather cord free until the strands fall around us like a curtain. My mouth travels lower, pressing kisses to her throat, pausing at the pulse point that flutters wildly beneath my lips, feeling her heartbeat against my tongue.
“Luca,” she purrs sweetly, dragging her fingers through my hair.
"Let me worship you." The words come from somewhere primal, somewhere true, rumbling up from my chest like a prayer. "Let me show you what you mean to me."
Her eyes glisten in the candlelight, tears she's trying not to shed. "Luca..." she tries again.
"I promised." I kiss down her sternum, my beard scraping lightly against her sensitive skin, drawing goosebumps in my wake. Ipause at the swell of her breasts, pressing my lips to the lace still covering her nipples, feeling them peak beneath the thin fabric. "At the courthouse. I promised you a celebration worth remembering."
I reach behind her and unclasp her bra with fingers that have steadied through sheer force of will. The lace falls away, revealing breasts that make my mouth water, full and perfect with nipples the color of dusty roses. I capture one between my lips and suck gently, rolling the peak with my tongue, and her back arches off the mattress.
"Oh God." Her voice breaks on the words. "Luca, please."
I release her nipple with a wet pop and kiss lower, trailing my mouth down the soft plane of her stomach. My lips find the slight curve where our baby grows, the evidence of what we created, and I press a reverent kiss there that makes her sob.
"Mine," I murmur against her skin. "Both of you. Mine."
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and drag them down her legs, revealing the glistening center of her, the proof of how much she wants this. Wants me. Her scent fills my lungs, musky and sweet, and my cock throbs against the confines of my remaining clothes.
I settle between her thighs and worship her with my mouth.
The first stroke of my tongue makes her cry out, her hips bucking against my face. I pin her down with one arm across her lower belly, holding her still as I feast on her, licking and sucking and driving her toward the edge with single-minded determination. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting. Her thighs tremble against my ears. Her moans fill the room like music, each one higher and more desperate than the last.
"I can't—Luca—I'm going to?—"
I seal my lips around her clit and suck hard, and she shatters against my tongue with a scream that echoes off the walls. Her whole body convulses, inner muscles clenching around nothing, her arousal flooding my mouth as I drink her down like a man dying of thirst.
I don't stop.
I ease her through the aftershocks with gentler strokes, then build her up again, two fingers sliding inside her slick heat while my tongue returns to her sensitive bundle of nerves. She writhes beneath me, overstimulated and desperate, begging for mercy I have no intention of granting.
"Again." I curl my fingers against the spot that makes her see stars. "Give me another one, jungle flower."
She comes again with a sob, clenching around my fingers, her body bowing off the mattress like she's been electrified. I work her through it, my free hand stroking her hip, murmuring praise against her swollen flesh until she collapses boneless against the sheets.
Only then do I rise over her, shedding my remaining clothes with desperate efficiency. My cock springs free, hard and aching, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. I position myself at her entrance, the head of me nudging against her slick heat, and pause.