Page 62 of Girl Anonymous

“Revealing? What are you afraid of?” One hand slid up the inside of her leg. His fingers dusted the ends of the hair that protected her so inadequately. “That I’ll be driven to touch all the parts of you, enter you with my fingers, my tongue, my dick…my mind? Because I’ve already done that…or have I? Each time between us is new, never tested, never tried in the history of the world.”

As she listened to him, she realized he was unhurriedly lifting himself to loom over her, all the while still holding her foot and massaging it. So as her leg was rising, unfolding, she was unbalanced…she was revealed.

“All my dreams are about you. What I’ll do to you, whatyou’ll do to me, how we make each other feel. You’re unpracticed—”

“Hey!”True, but…

“And yet you move me as the moon moves the tides.”

Poetic. She relaxed back onto the bed. He eased her toward the middle of the mattress. She got a peek of light, then he adjusted her mask and again she was in night. The mattress dipped as he joined her, one knee between her thighs. “You’re incandescent with desire, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He smelled…so good. His hair, his skin, his breath…he exuded pheromones that made her whimper and grope her hands along his shoulders.

He spoke in her ear, his smooth voice a seduction in itself. “This first time—”

“It’s not the first time.”

“It feels like the first time. This time, you know who I really am.”

“Do I?”

He chuckled. “You trust me, so you know all you need to know.”

“I suppose.”

“Yousuppose?”

“All right, I do. I trust you not to tell me everything.”

His voice grew serious. “I’m not patronizing, but it’s safer for you if you don’t know everything.” With gentle hands, he pushed her hair off her forehead.

“In case I get captured by one of your…vengeful family.”

“Yes.”

A little of her lovely glow faded; she had to stop encouraging Dante to talk.

Yet Dante had promised oblivion; he proved himself a master of distraction. He bent his head and kissed her mouth. He taught her to get lost in the pressure, the taste, the movements of tongue and teeth. It was wet and rich, delicious in its decadence, andwhen he pulled back, she tried to follow. But he nuzzled at that spot where her jaw met her earlobe, then followed her throat down to her breast to suckle so urgently she dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips in supplication.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

“My mouth.”

“No.” She touched his chest. It was bare. Slid her hands down to his hips. They were bare. Reached for his—

“My mouth,” he said firmly.

She no longer held him in her hands, for he was between her legs, suckling again, but this time on her clit. She twisted, cried out, moaned, and when she hurtled toward climax, orgasm, he stopped her, calmed her, petted and massaged her, described to her how much better it would be if she held on to the thin edge of control until he was inside her. He asked if she agreed.

She shook her head, took a breath to shout, and whispered, “No.”

“Think about it,” he coaxed. “You’ve held yourself in control for so long—”

She snorted. He’d held her in his control. He’d taken away her sight, leaving her dependent on him, opening her other senses. Every gentle touch of his fingers stroked the fire in her nerves. The aroma of the sheets, the lavender oil, his skin, filled her mind and brought her the faint scent of her own arousal. Each nuance of his voice both comforted and provoked her. And his taste—she wanted to kiss him, lick him, suck him until his control vanished and he—

The beast was still talking. “Yourchatteis swollen, damp, waiting, throbbing. Isn’t it?”

---