Page 87 of Bound in Debt
“Stupidly enough,” Dante mutters. “I think I believe you.”
I smirk and roll my eyes—trust takes time, but other than trying to find my own escape plan, I’ve never gone behind his back. “Thanks, husband. That boost of confidence will carry me through next week.”
One of his palms slides off my thigh and the crook of his index finger glides over my soaked clit, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine. “This little fuck session is going to need to be enough to carry me at least that long. I want to memorize every second so I can remember the feel of your cunt when I jack off later.”
Holy shit.
The thought of Dante stroking his dick, imagining me—my body—ramps up my need to come. Him alone, boxers shoved down his hips as he runs his hand down the velvety skin of his cock…well, that sounds like something I would pay to see.
“You should just call me so you can hear my voice,” I reply softly. “I’ll play along.”
“Would you rub yourself for me?” My lips part to reply yes but Dante continues before I can voice the word. “I’d rather you video chat me. I want to watch you sink your fingers inside your dripping pussy.”
I clench around him again, unable to help myself, as Dante rubs a firm circle around my sensitive nub. “With no panties on?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he growls, looking down between us, watching the point where his cock disappears inside me. “Give me more, princess. Your villain wants it hard and rough.”
I can do that—I think.
I’m not used to being on top and taking control. Yet, with Dante, it feels oddly powerful to have this man underneath me while I take what I want and need. Like he’s granting me, his wife, access to a part of him few women have ever seen.
Following his instructions, I take Dante as deeply and quickly as I can. I want this to be good for him. I want to make every moment of this as vivid and powerful as possible so that when he imagines this later, he can’t help but feel pain that he’s not inside me.
I’d love for him to crave me as much as I crave him.
Which is stupid because there is no end game where we get a happily ever after together.
Dante’s hands grip my ass and he spreads my cheeks wide. I gasp in surprise and pained pleasure as he guides me to ride him harder, faster, pushing his cock deeper with every stroke. “Has anyone had this ass before, princess?”
I shake my head back and forth, a panting mess from the effort of fucking him so hard in this position, and something dark casts over his expression. The look in his eye lights an even hotter fire inside me—I want whatever this man is willing to give me.
“I think I should be the first,” he murmurs, not quite meeting my eyes. “You want the real wife experience…it’d only be fair to show you what it’d be like if you were really mine.”
Yes.
I’m definitely intimidated by ass play, but with Dante, I feel safe. I know that he can show me things I’ve only imagined, and I can’t help but want to drown myself in his world.
“You seem to like that idea, princess,” he gloats, a filthy smirk twisting his mouth. “I can feel you getting wetter by the second, and that little hitch in your breathing…Your body is only confirming you wouldn’t do a thing to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t,” I confess. “I want it.”
“Nah, princess…you want the fantasy of me. Someone to protect and love you. I’m not that person. Can’t be.”
I’m tired of him painting me into a box, projecting the stereotype of the rich princess on me like I’m the one who’ll forget this is pretend and get too attached. But I didn’t just pay a giant tuition bill. I’m not the one who keeps saving him.
Sounds like someone doth protest too much. Sounds like that someone is either scared or in denial.
And it’s not my job to correct him, but to show him his error.
“If taking it up the ass means making a lifelong commitment,” I whisper, leaning closer to him and pressing my chest to his, “then I can wait for someone else.”
Dante nips at my lips in mock irritation. If there’s one thing I can’t hide from him, it’s the real meaning of my words. He knows I’m being a brat, working to goad him into action. “Make sure they’re gentle.”
Touche.
But letting him win the point would be too easy. I want Dante to truly want me. I won’t dissect the reasons, although I’m starting to think I may just be desperate for an ego boost. And if he keeps letting me ignore all the lines we keep drawing in the sand, I’m going to become far too dependent on him. If I’m not careful, I’m going to walk out of this marriage with one hell of a chip on my shoulders.
“You say that as if I couldn’t handle it,” I muse with a small smile of my own. “I think I can.”
