Finally he spoke huskily, “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to be able to sit down comfortably tomorrow.” He ran his hand gently down her back and caressed her bottom.
“Your fault for getting so kinky,” she told him with a sigh.
“I think you have a kinky streak yourself,” he said with a hint of amusement.
She had to admit, “I think I do, actually. But you said you’d teach me everything. I’m a fast learner.”
Dante chuckled. “So now you know what happens when you tease me.”
Sarah smiled. “I think I’ll do it again fairly soon. I think I like it when you go all crazy dominant on me, sexually. Just don’t try going that far outside of our sexual relationship or I’ll knee you in the balls.”
Dante’s booming laughter rang out in the humid night air, a sound that made Sarah’s heart squeeze tightly in her chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante choked out while he was still laughing.
“Good.” Sarah knew Dante was an alpha male, but he respected her. However, she wasn’t going to complain if he decided he wanted to go completely controlling dominant again in the bedroom someday. He stirred a wildness in her that she had never known existed.
“Are you cold?” Dante asked, concerned.
She was damp and had just noticed she was shivering. “A little,” she admitted.
Dante slipped out from under her and starting picking up his clothing, holding up the remnants of her red dress and tattered panties as he muttered, “I think you’ll need a large supply of these.”
“I don’t usually wear thong underwear. They annoy me,” she mentioned casually.
“Then why wear them?” he asked with a frown.
“Because I wanted to turn you on,” she admitted.
“Here’s a news flash for you, sweetheart: you turn me on no matter what you’re wearing.” He grinned at her sinfully as he offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Hold these.” He handed her his pile of clothes with his Glock sitting on top of them.
She looked at the gun and took the pile gingerly. She squealed as he lifted her up in his arms, her body clad in only the garter and stockings. “Careful. I have your gun,” she said nervously.
“Sorry. I don’t exactly have any place to put it at the moment,” he replied mischievously.
Sarah laughed as she wrapped one arm around his muscular shoulders and held his bundle with the other. “In that case, I think I’d better hang on to it.”
Dante strode down the dock, his long legs eating up the distance. Sarah opened the slider and Dante walked in, looking around the house and deactivating the alarm again to give himself time to turn Sarah around so she could lock the door.
After resetting the security system, they sprinted up the stairs, and he took the pile of clothing from her before lowering her gently to the bed. Then he set his Glock on the nightstand before he knelt and rolled the damp stockings down her legs. He stripped off the wet garter belt and wrapped her in a blanket from the closet. “Better?” he asked anxiously.
“Better,” Sarah agreed, smiling at him as she wrapped the blanket around her body. Dante was amazing, and had so many beguiling facets to his personality. He had been giving her a rough, screaming orgasm just a short while ago, and now he was showing his nurturing side. There were so many others that it astounded her: dominant, demanding, bossy, tender, sweet, protective, and totally possessive. Each one touched her in a different way.
She watched as he rummaged through the drawer, pulling out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and putting them on. Sighing, she mourned as he covered his powerful legs and tight ass. But she still ogled his six-pack abs and muscular chest.
He’s so damn perfect.
His bruises had faded, and his other wounds were nearly healed. He’d always have the scar on his cheek, but even that would eventually fade until it was barely noticeable. Dante grew facial hair fast and had a five o’clock shadow well before it was actually five o’clock. Once his face was covered in stubble, the scar wasn’t noticeable at all. Even when it was visible, it just made him more rugged. Men definitely wore their scars better than women.
“Are my scars really as bad as I see them sometimes?” she asked Dante quietly.
He sat on the bed beside her, frowning. “How do you see them?”
“Ugly. Sometimes I don’t think they’re really that bad, and that they healed pretty well. Some of the cuts were jagged, so I know they show. But I guess I see them as glaringly hideous and deforming at times. Emily always swears she can hardly notice them, and only if she’s really looking for them very closely,” she confided.
“I thought you were over that. I thought you realized that nobody notices them,” Dante rasped. “What changed?”
“Something my mother said today. It’s not really important. I just wondered.” Sarah wished she hadn’t even mentioned it. For the most part, she was over feeling unattractive because of some of her scars. Dante had helped her considerably not to be self-conscious. Unfortunately, her mother had hit a vulnerable spot today.
“What did she say?” Dante asked angrily. “Talk to me.”
“She said that I need an intellectual man to see past my scars, someone who isn’t as interested in sex,” she admitted in a rush.
“No, you don’t. All you need is me. And I’m very interested in fucking you on a daily basis, more if possible.” He paused before asking, “Do you want the honest truth?”