Page 123 of Knot Their Safe Haven
"I'm giving him style points," Velvet said eventually, as if she hadn't just nearly combusted.
"Unfair advantage," I grumbled, but it was all for show. I knew what she was doing—making sure neither of us got too cocky, keeping the game alive.
The next fifteen minutes were a fever dream of flavors and textures.
Brown sugar traced along the inside of her wrist, cinnamon dusted over the curve of her hipbone, whipped cream in all the obvious places and some less so. We alternated, sometimes competing, sometimes collaborating, Velvet the ever-willing canvas for our edible experiments.
She moaned and giggled and, at one point, threatened to bite if we didn't stop teasing and get serious. I think it was the moment with the warm honey—Dante poured it with surgical precision, but I made her taste it from my mouth—that finally tipped her over the edge.
I watched the shift in her expression as she spoke those words, something vulnerable flickering beneath the desire. My brother and I had shared many things over the years, but this—this felt sacred in a way that made my chest tight.
"Love making," I state softly, my hand stilling against her thigh, grabbing her attention. "Is that something you want?"
She nodded, silver hair spilling across the blanket like moonlight.
"I've had enough of being used. I want to be cherished. Really experienced what love is like. Not in haste or secret, or an after thought. Just to be lost in the action of passion. Is that... is that something you two can deliver?"
Dante caught my eye over her shoulder, and I saw my own emotions reflected there—protectiveness, desire, and something deeper that we'd both been fighting since the moment we'd seen her at that airport.
"Velvet," I murmured, shifting to cradle her face in my hands. "We've been waiting forty-two years to cherish someone properly."
"Specifically you," Dante added, his voice rough with honesty. "We knew the moment you could tell us apart. No one else ever bothered to truly see us."
I leaned down, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in that intoxicating scent of black orchids mixed with autumn spices. "Let us show you what you've been missing. What those cowards never gave you."
Her eyes fluttered closed, and I felt her body relax between us—not the unconscious surrender she'd been conditioned to, but conscious trust. Active choice.
"Please," she whispered.
I kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring decades of waiting into the connection. This wasn't the passionate claiming from the airport or the hungry kisses we'd shared earlier. This was reverent, a promise made with lips and tongue and careful hands.
Dante's fingers tangled with mine where they rested on her hip, our touch unified as we held her. When I pulled back to let her breathe, he was there, continuing the kiss with the same careful worship.
"Beautiful," I breathed against her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck. "Do you know how beautiful you are? Not just physically—though God, Velvet, you're stunning—but your spirit. Your fire. The way you've survived everything and still chose to trust us."
She made a sound that might have been a sob if it wasn't wrapped in pleasure. Her hands found my hair, Dante's shoulder, holding us close like she was afraid we'd disappear.
"I'm here," I promised between kisses. "We're here. Not going anywhere."
The string lights cast golden shadows across her skin as we slowly, reverently removed her clothes. Each revealed inch was met with kisses, with murmured appreciation, with the kind of attention that had nothing to do with conquest and everything to do with devotion.
When my fingers found her center again, I moved with deliberate care, watching her face for every reaction. "Tell me what feels good," I urged. "This is about you."
"Everything," she gasped, arching into my touch. "Everything feels... God, I didn't know it could be like this."
"This is just the beginning," Dante promised, his mouth trailing along her collarbone. "We have all night. All our lives, if you'll let us."
I found a rhythm that had her gasping, her body moving with mine rather than despite it. This wasn't taking—this was giving, sharing, building something together. When she got close, I slowed, drawing it out, making sure she felt every second of pleasure.
"Damon," she whimpered, and my name on her lips was better than any symphony.
"I've got you," I promised, increasing the pressure just slightly. "Let go, Velvet. We'll catch you."
She came apart between us with a cry that echoed off the trees, her whole body shuddering as waves of pleasure rolled through her. We held her through it, murmuring praise and promises, our hands gentle as she floated back down.
"That was..." she started, then stopped, apparently unable to find words.
"Just the beginning," I reminded her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We meant what we said about having all night."
