“Dante!” Ian growled, his tone hard.
I snapped open my eyes, not realizing I’d shut them.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice softer as he leaned over me. “Don’t leave me again. Do you understand?”
I nodded, felt the emotion building.
Ian shifted one of my legs back, toward my chest. Then the other. He kissed me throughout, his lips firm yet gentle. I could feel his hunger, his need. He was holding back. For me.
I was breathing hard but not from fear. My desire for him was too great. Potent. Overwhelming. When he pushed inside me, I cried out as the pleasure swamped me. There was no pain.
He lay out over me, twining our fingers again as he rocked into me.
“Stay here with me, Dante. Look at me.”
I kept my eyes on his face, saw the intent in his gaze. He wanted to give me pleasure, not take.
When I tried to look away, he used his free hand to hold my jaw.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “Tight, hot.” His eyes snapped on mine. “Perfect.”
His pace never changed, the perfect rhythm to have me begging and pleading. Just a little more.
“Say my name,” he ordered.
“Master.”
He nipped my lower lip. “Not who I am. Say. My. Name.”
“Ian,” I whispered harshly.
“Hold on to me.” There were more words, Irish words whispered in that rough brogue that drove me wild.
With my arms wreathing his neck, Ian pumped his hips, driving into me, the pleasure building as strongly as the pressure in my chest, the emotion I couldn’t hold back. I buried my face in his neck, moaning softly, saying his name over and over as he took us both to the edge, held us there.
“Oh, fuck…” I groaned, the sound tormented only because it was too much, overwhelming with its intensity. “Master … please … I’m—fuck, I’m going to come.”
“Come for me,” he growled, his words vibrating over my skin.
His arm slid beneath my back, holding me to him as he drove into me again and again. I couldn’t have let go if I’d wanted, my arms secured around him as my body, strung tight, threatened to shatter.
“Come for me,” he urged, his voice a broken whisper. Again, more words in Irish, these spoken with reverence.
His hips drove forward again and again, his grunts and groans the music I moved by until I couldn’t hold on any longer.
“Oh, fuck!” I cried out, my muscles locking as my cock pulsed between us.
Ian drove into me once more, growled low in his throat, his arm tightening around me as he came. His body jerked and twitched, never letting me go until I relaxed beneath him.
And then, when Ian could’ve easily slipped out of the room, he didn’t. He kissed me. Softly, sweetly. It lasted as long as the foreplay, or it felt like it, anyway.
“I want something from you tonight,” he said softly, pulling back, staring down into my face.
“Anything, Master.”
His eyes searched mine. “I want you in my bed.”
I sucked in air, almost told him I couldn’t.
“Thirty minutes,” he said before I could refuse. “That’s all I ask. Thirty minutes. I want to hold you for that long. Then you can come back here. I won’t push for more, but I need this.” Once more with the Irish words.
“What does that mean?” I asked, still trying to come up with a way to refuse.
He smiled softly. “The literal translation is my heart’s beloved.”
My breath left my body in a rush.
“Thirty minutes. That’s all I ask. For now.”
I nodded, unable to deny him anything he asked of me.
“Thank you.” He smiled, tacked on something else in that delectable brogue.
I raised my eyebrows.
“My pet,” he said with a chuckle, then dipped his head, kissed me softly before climbing out of bed. “I’m sure dinner’s ready. Get dressed. Join us.”
“Yes, Master,” I said, sighing.
It was then I realized there was a smile on my face.
That, too, was a first.
NINETEEN
Heaven
While I cooked, I usually listened to music, took the opportunity to relax.
That hadn’t been the case tonight.
Sure, it had been a thought, right up until I heard the sounds coming from Dante’s bedroom. The soft grunts, moans. That had been the music I had worked to this evening. And as I did, I had let the images form. I’d never seen two men make love, but it was a fantasy that burned hot when I thought about Ian and Dante.
And though I’d had sex with both men—something I certainly wouldn’t brag about to my friends—I felt no jealousy that they were together. In fact, I was glad they’d finally given in. I might not have been the most perceptive person in the world, but I’d noticed the way Ian and Isaac had been keeping their distance from Dante.
Lucky for them, that didn’t seem to be the case anymore.
Funny, so much had happened in the week we’d been in this house. Most of it transpiring between the four of them, but I could admit, the experience had changed me, too. Not that I was any closer to thinking this lifestyle was my thing. Nope. Still a one-man woman right here. But I liked that they respected that and still extended the offer to include me. But there was a bigger dynamic at play here, one that I was intruding on. I could sense my presence was like a brick wall resurrected on the freeway. Completely out of place and doing nothing except hindering progress.
