And I shatter, right there, body on fire, cunt throbbing, every muscle in my thighs coiling with want. I’m not literally combusting, but hell, I can taste ash and lightning on my tongue.
He releases my wrists. Sits back. Looks at me like he’s deciding where to start.
“Don’t move your hands,” he says.
I don’t move my hands.
He starts with my collarbone.
Which seems like a weird choice until his mouth is there, tracing the line of bone, and I realize that every nerve ending I have is apparently connected to that one specific spot.
“Dario.”
“Shh.”
He moves lower. The robe falls open and he doesn’t rush to remove it, just traces the edges with his fingers, following the silk across my skin.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
He parts the robe fully. I fight the urge to cover myself, old instincts, old voices, too much too much too much, and he must see it because he pauses.
“Stay with me,” he says quietly. “Right here. Don’t go anywhere else.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.” He presses a kiss over my sternum, right where my heart’s going berserk. “You’re doing so fucking good for me.”
The praise goes off in my chest like a grenade. I didn’t know I needed it until he gave it. Didn’t know how much I needed someone to see me falling apart and call it beautiful instead of broken.
He continues his exploration. Every inch of skin cataloged, kissed, claimed. By the time he reaches my hip bones, I’m shaking.
“Dario, please.”
He pauses, mouth hovering, breath ghosting across my skin. “Please what?”
“Please, I need.”
“Tell me what you need.”
The words won’t form. Everything is sensation and heat and his mouth moving lower, so close to where I want him.
He just waits, steady, a fingertip trailing up my inner thigh, teasing, not giving, making me climb the walls with need.
Then he stops. Pulls back, those dark eyes pinning me to the mattress.
“What.” I gasp. “Why did you stop?”
He just smiles, devil in silk. “Look at me, Stevie.”
I force myself to meet his gaze, and it’s electric, intimate, like he’s looking straight into the part of me that’s always been starved.
“Tell me what you want. All of it. No hiding.”
I swallow, cheeks flaming, but I don’t break eye contact. Not with him. “I want your mouth. On me.”
His brow quirks. “Where, baby?”
My face burns. “You know where.”
