Chapter 31
DANI
I need Dexter inside me.
So when he orders me to get on the bed, face down, I obey. Then I wait with bated breath, a hot, aching pull between my thighs.
“Ready for me, Gatinha?” His gravelly voice reaches deep inside me. I brace myself, face down on the bed, goosebumps prickling all over my skin as he massages the small of my back. I lean down on my elbows, quiver with shock when he runs his hand over my behind, his fingers slowly lingering over my flesh.
Then I feel it. The hot, wet tip of his cock against my silkiness.
“Meu Deus,” I gasp.
His face is close to my ear.
“May I?” His lips brush my ear, his hot breath kissing my cheek. I pant with want. “May you, what?” I whisper, trying to hold it together. As desperate as I am for him, I’m not sure if this is one of his little tricks. To test me. To see if I’ll give in first.
“May I fuck you.”
“I need you inside me, now. Please.” I grind out a moan as he rubs his tip over me, tempting me, teasing me. When he won’t push in, like I’m desperate for him to, I writhe against him, pressing back, trying to capture an inch of his cock, something, anything.
He slides his cock up and down, like he’s marking his territory. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you Dexter.” My voice shakes with urgent need. The logical part of my brain has vanished. His fingers reach between my folds, slipping, and sliding, making me whimper and mewl.
“You’re soaking wet for me, amor.”
I can only manage a sigh as his fingers work their magic, touching, and tweaking. He hooks a finger in, then another one, gliding them in and out, making me arch my back as long sighs roll from my lips. “I need you, Dexter.”
“I’m big, amor.” He nips my earlobe gently.
“Then I want you now,” I rasp.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His thumb glides over my nub, and I shudder as he plays with me, rubs, then stops. Hooks his fingers in some more. I lean back against him, my knees boneless. “You’re ready now, amor.”
“I am.” All that matters is him, inside me. I need him like I need air.
“Ready for me to fuck you.” Another nip on my earlobe.
“Please,” I beg.”
He moves away, and for the life of me I can’t work out why he’s waiting. But then I hear the rip of a foil, and I know what he’s doing.
Smiling in anticipation, I cry out when he pushes inside me. One hard, fast thrust. Delicious friction. A frisson of pain followed by a wave of pleasure. I feel the sting before waves of pleasure roll over me. I groan, savoring the feel of him, stretching me, filling me up.
“Sorry,” he groans, in my ear again. “I should have gone slow.” He stills inside me, and all I can do is pant.
A moan of pleasure falls from my lips. “Ahhh ... yes...” I whimper, bucking against him, trying to ride him.
My heart drops into my stomach, and my arousal thickens. I wait with slow growing irritation. He fists his hand into my hair, then kisses the back of my neck, along my shoulder blade, raining gently little kisses over my heated skin.
My eyes haze over. I feel him inside me, and I feel full, all I want now is the friction of movement. Spiraling desire consumes me, until his large hands bracket my hips and he pulls out, then drives in hard and brutal. I cry out, not caring what sounds I make. My face falls onto the bed, my hips lift higher, and Dexter pulls them back, his hands firm around them before he pistons in and out, getting harder with each thrust.
I gasp each time he thrusts into me, my whole body shaking, as I savor his fullness before he pulls out again.
“Dexter.” I can barely talk. Can barely breathe. His name is all that falls from my lips.
“You feel fucking divine,” he groans, slapping into me, then pulling out. With each thrust I feel the edge building. He reaches for my breast, curses when he can’t feel the nakedness, only the silk fabric of the dress. “Need you naked.”
“You ... should ... have ...unzipped...” He’s driving so fast and hard, I feel my orgasm rising. “Dexter...”
“Your pussy is so wet and soft...” He pounds away, his balls slapping against me. The air fills with the wet, sloppy sound of our bodies meeting. It continues, the motion, the rhythm, the push and pull, and all the while I feel it building to a peak. Then a wave rips through me, consuming me, taking me under, and I lose myself in it. I get there, crying out, unraveling completely, and feeling loose and boneless. Dexter still thrusts in and out of me, until he comes, too, panting and huffing behind me, his hands still on my hips as he grunts his satisfaction. I rest my cheek against the sheets, wait for my body to come back down to earth.
“That was fucking … intense.” His breath is ragged, as if he’s run ten miles. Pulling out of me, he falls onto his back, and I turn onto my back, too, my breathing uneven. The room fills with the sound of our breaths trying to calm down. After a few moments, he sits up and takes care of his condom, before lying beside me again.
I try to shimmy my dress down, try to cover my nakedness, but he takes my hand. “Leave it. I want to see you naked.”
So I leave it. His hand entwines into mine, and I feel complete.
“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we left for the gala,” he confesses.
“Just the gala?” I turn to him, saddened that it only happened for him now.
“Ever since I saw you in that dress, all I wanted to do was take it off.” His eyes assess my reaction, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll recoil, or not. He turns to his side, so that we’re facing one another, and his finger strokes my cheek. Dark, hooded eyes, staring at me. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you ever since the first night on our honeymoon. Hell, ever since the night of our wedding day.”
I smile. He felt it too, the sparks between us. As if reading my mind, he says, “I wanted to, but knew we couldn’t, so I tried to block you out.”
I give his hand a squeeze. “It took Rio to push you over the edge,” I say, teasing. Playing with fire. Knowing that this is what riles him up, I should back down, but I don’t. I want him inside me again. I want him to be jealous and want me. I need the intimacy, the closeness. All of him.
“Rio’s got someone else in mind, I think.” He runs his finger over my breasts. My nipples poke through the silk fabric, and he rubs his thumb over them, making them peak again. As if he’s entertained by the cause and effect of his actions, he keeps doing it. I like it, so I lie back and enjoy the sweet thrum of pleasure sweeping over me.
He sighs. “I’m tired.” Then lays down again. The room is dark, save for my bedside lamp which comes on as automatically when the light is dim.
I wonder how long he’ll stay here, in my room, how long we’ll lie like this. I decide not to ask any questions, and try to savor this moment with him. I turn on my side, then rest my head against his chest, move my hand along it. I feel heartbeat beneath my palm. It’s steady and strong.
Then, it’s like the room is ripe for secrets, for a confession, because he lets one slip from his mouth. He tells me that he doesn’t know how to love someone, and it’s because he is unlovable. His voice is low, barely more than a whisper.
My eyes widen at him talking about love. He didn’t have to tell me that. He chose to open up, to share a part of himself he’s probably never given anyone. That means something.
“You’re not unlovable, Dexter,” I say softly, turning on my side again and looking down at his sad, thoughtful face. “You’re not some monster who needs to be alone. You deserve love. You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, then turns his face into my hand, and sighs like it’s giving him comfort.
“You barely know me,” he whispers. “If you did, if you knew the darkness in me, you wouldn’t want to be with me. And I … I wouldn’t blame you.”
I let out a heavy exhale, but keep my hand on his cheek so he can’t look away. “You think I don’t see you? I see you, Dexter, as much as you let anyone see you. I know you put up a tough exterior, because you want people to think you don’t care, but I see you. I know you’re kind, and thoughtful and caring when you drop your guard. I know you blame yourself for things no one could control. I know you spend every day convinced that if you care about someone, they’re doomed.” My voice softens. “I know you’re scared, Dexter. But I’m not going to break if you care about me. And I won’t break you.”
My eyes fill with tears, and in the blur, I see him studying me, anguish battling with hope in his expression.
“I don’t know how,” he confesses. “I don’t know how to be with someone, not just to enjoy their body, but to really be there for them. Unless it’s just sex, it feels like I’m putting their life at risk. It sounds insane—”
“It’s not insane,” I cut in. “It’s trauma. And it’s understandable. But you can’t let it rule you forever.”
I feel him pulling back emotionally, retreating behind that wall of guilt. Panic rears its ugly head in my chest at the thought that I’m losing him again, when I’ve only just gotten him back. “You’re not alone.” My voice is hoarse but resolute. “Don’t walk away from me again. Don’t leave me waiting and wanting you, like the last time.”
He turns to his side then. Takes my hand in his. “I won’t.”
“I can help you. We can work through this together.”
His eyes soften and he nods. And my insides glow.
There is a way to keep this man, to show him that his fears are what keep him away from people. I want him to see that he doesn’t have to live that way.
I’m starting to understand now why most of his relationships have been arrangements. Friends with benefits. No strings. No mess. No entanglements.
I flinch at the idea of him with someone else. But I get it. I understand this man whose walls are high, whose heart is hidden. He doesn’t allow emotions or feelings to get in the way. Running my fingers slowly across his chest, I trace invisible lines over warm skin.
I feel torn, and wonder if I should tell him the truth, about my father’s business not being as great as Paul Knight thinks it is. It’s also not that bad. Besides, Paul will have had ample time and opportunity going around the offices with my father. He would have snooped around and found out the extent of it all.
I decide not to say anything to spoil the moment. Dexter and I are just opening up to one another, and I can’t risk doing anything which will push my husband away.
My husband.
The words feel so right on my tongue, in my heart. I love how we are now, like this, lying entwined in one another in bed, tangled in his sheets, bare and close. I feel warm and safe in his arms, like I belong here. He’s also not rushing to leave. He’s not pulling away. Instead, he lingers.
“Is this a friends-with-benefits type of relationship?” I ask, feeling sad that it might be. Feeling resolute that I’ll take it, if that’s all he can offer.
He sits up. Brows pushed together more than I’ve ever seen them. “What the fuck, Daniela?” I sit up, fearing I’ve ruined the night. “You’re my wife. My wife . You’re so much more, can’t you see that?” His fingers stroke my cheek, and my heart fills like a balloon. “I’m lucky to have you. I don’t care about the contract. I just care about this, you, me, now.” He takes my hand and kisses it. In the back of our minds, I’m sure of it, he’s thinking what I’m thinking. About the alliance.
But we push that thought away. I’m consumed by his words and his vulnerability. This Dexter was always there, but hidden behind the hard facade he so easily puts up. “What do you say, wife?” he asks, when I stare at him still speechless, but happy.
“I think you’re overusing that word.”
He moves closer then chuckles, near my mouth, his lips brushing mine. “I haven’t had a chance to say it like I meant it before, and now I do.”
My heart does little cartwheels inside my chest as he kisses me, softly, cupping my face, his thumb brushing the side of my cheek. His tongue sweeps in and makes my brain fog over, rendering me incapable of thought. At the same time, a fire burns low in my belly. My body prepares for him. “I don’t think I can ever spend a night alone in my bed after tonight.”
“You won’t,” he promises. “Come sleep in my bed.”
“Your bed?” I tease, raising a brow. “What’s wrong with my bed?”
He grins and leans in, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “Our bed, Daniela,” he whispers, his voice husky, intimate. His hand slides down to my waist, fingers splayed, possessive, gentle. “I want you in my bed, wife. ”
A surge of excitement explodes inside me, warmth flooding through my chest like a thousand tiny ripples. I blink up at him, breath catching. We move off the bed, and make our way, kissing and hugging, and this time I tug at the zipper of my dress, hard to reach behind my back and so cleverly hidden. Hard to undo. Between us, between kissing and touching, we manage to unzip it. It pools like jade at my ankles, only now, we’re in his room.
The master bedroom.
The energy here is different. Slightly colder. The air is fresher. He turns on his bedside lamp and his heated gaze moving slowly over my body, like he’s seeing it for the first time. Like he’s appreciating it. I don’t need to be told. I already know what I want. I hop onto the bed, and wait, lying on my back, my arms crossed behind my head.
He joins me, his mouth immediately latching to my breast which he suckles hungrily, feral noises falling from his lips, as he tends to each one carefully. This man takes pleasure from me and gives me so much back. I arch my back, ready again.
“This time I don’t want to fuck. I want to make love to you,” he says, in between sucking.
And just like that, mouth still latched to my breast, he positions himself between my legs, taking turns to squeeze my nipples and kiss me slowly, languorously. I feel loved. I feel taken care of. I feel wanted.
We’re skin to skin with nothing between us. I wrap my legs around his waist, caging him against me. He presses his forehead to mine, dark eyes fixed on me as our breaths mingle and he positions his cock at my opening.
A sigh falls from my throat as he fills me completely, stretching me to my limit again. I should be used to him, but my body is still adjusting to his size. He stills, buried to the hilt, and for a heartbeat neither of us moves. My walls clench around his thickness, slowly getting used to the intrusion, a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure stealing my breath.
“Daniela,” Dexter groans, voice strained. “You feel so perfect. This pussy … this pussy was made for me.” He chokes out the words like they scare him, then pulls back and slams into me again. He finds a punishing rhythm, my entire body shaking with each powerful thrust. I moan and mewl, arching my back, letting him suckle, in between thrusts.
“Don’t … stop …” I beg. He slides inside me, thick and hard, and I gasp into his mouth, only to meet his tongue, delving in and out just as his slides in and out below. “You’re the only one I want, Dexter.”
He grunts, and we kiss again. Our kiss turning urgent, fevered. My arms slide around his neck and I cling to him, while he kisses and fucks me. A delicious combination that ignites something raw and desperate inside me.
It’s rhythmic, perfect, divine. He fills me completely, absorbs me so that it feels like he and I are one.
“I never want to leave your pussy.” He looks down at me, eyes glistening, watching my reaction as he pumps in and out. My mouth falls open, because he moves slowly, filling me to the hilt, before pulling out, the sweet friction slowly driving me to the edge.
“You’re never leaving this bed,” he rasps. And, when I don’t reply. “Are you?”
“I’m not,” I pant, feeling my orgasm start to climb again.
“You’re not what?” He studies me carefully, awaiting an answer. This man has so much stamina. I can barely think, but he’s moving, shifting above me, fucking me slowly and it is the most fulfilling feeling.
“I’m never … leaving … this … bed.”
He thrusts into me like he can’t get deep enough, like he wants to fuse us into one. And I want it. I want him to consume me, to claim me and ruin me.
My pulse begins to skyrocket again, pleasure coiling tight and urgent. I shouldn’t be able to come again so soon, but the way he’s pounding away, hitting a sweet spot deep inside, has lights flashing behind my eyes.
I’m already there. “Dexter…” I moan his name like a plea and a warning. I’m falling apart as he slams in to me, driving me over that edge again.
“I know,” he grinds out, sensing it. His hand snakes between us and finds my throbbing clit. He rubs hard, sending me hurtling into oblivion. I come with a cry, nails digging into his shoulders, my entire body clenching wildly around his cock.
“Fuck! Daniela—” He bites out my name, thrusting once, twice more before he loses himself with a raw groan. He comes, his release hot and pulsing deep in my core, spilling into me in the most primal way. Ripples of shock flood through me, but then, suddenly and without warning, he pulls out, streaks of cum shoot over my breast. “I forgot to wear a condom. Sorry.” He looks at me, worry filling his eyes. “I tried not to come inside you, but I might have, a little.”
I blink, trying to think through the haze.
“I’m sorry.” He grabs the edge of the duvet and starts to wipe away the cum. I do some mental math. Then I grab his hand and sit up, to console him. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I just finished my period two days ago. We’re in the safe zone.”
It still doesn’t stop him from looking worried.
“And ... I haven’t had sex in over a year,” I continue, “I’m not on the pill but he used protection.”
He pulls back in disgust. “I don’t want to picture you having sex with anyone else.”
“I was just telling you about my last boyfriend—”
He shakes his head, his face stony. “I’m the only one who gets to be with you.”
The intensity and anger in his voice secretly thrills me. “I only told you because I don’t want you to worry about me giving you anything,” I tell him. He stares at me, like he’s about to say something. “But you,” I press, “With your hookups. Are you clean?”
“This is a very clinical conversation to be having after the hot sex we just had. But you have a point. I got checked before we got married,” he confesses, sitting back, leaning against the headboard.
“You did? Why?” I’m puzzled. “On account of what? You said we weren’t to get involved. Or where you hoping to?”
“I’m sorry.” He looks sheepish, sitting up, sinking back against the headboard. “I wasn’t sure if after our that night at the hotel, when we got talking, the night we had to convince your friend Raquel, I wasn’t sure if we might just want to ...”
“Have a hookup?”
He looks pained. “Not a hookup, Daniela.” He cups my face. “I thought we had incredible chemistry, and I wanted to be prepared in case something happened between us.”
“It almost did, that night in the hot tub. You’re the one who walked away,” I remind him.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“You’re different, Daniela. Feelings got involved. You started to mean something to me. More than I wanted. Hookups are just about fucking. No emotions. Sometimes not even conversation.”
I frown, but a sadness settles over me, and the thought of this man, so cold and closed off, craving human interaction, bodily needs, but pushing away from real human connection.
There’s a quiet pause, just the sound of our breathing, our skin cooling.
“This isn’t pure, carnal, base fucking?” I ask, my hand reaching for his cock. My fingers close around it and I start to stroke. We’re naked still, sitting up in bed.
“I’m in love with you, Daniela. It’s something I never expected or planned for.”
My hand stills, as his words explode in my chest, like a firework, bright, beautiful and unstoppable. It feels like the air suddenly turned thicker, like my lungs have to work harder just to catch some air.
“What did you say?” I whisper, unsure if I imagined it, or if I just want it too badly to trust it.
“I’m falling in love with you.” His voice is softer this time, as if he’s handing me something fragile, and I suppose he is.
Dexter Knight is giving me his heart.
“It scares me,” he whispers.
I let go of his dick and sit astride him, my hands going around his neck. “That’s just perfect, then.”
“Oh?”
“Because I love you, too.”
I dip my head and kiss him again. His breath is sweet, his mouth warm and soft. I love his man with every fiber in my body. I think he feels that way about me.
His eyes turn so glassy, that I still, wondering if I’ve said something that will trigger him and the beliefs he holds. But he smiles and pulls me into his chest. I feel something wet just under my breast and look down to see a few streaks of his cum that he missed. I rub it into my breast.
“Jeez,” he murmurs, his pupils turning darker than ever.
And just like that, I feel Dexter’s glistening hardness poking at me again.
***
We wake up the next morning, and the morning after that, entangled in one another.
We’re in the master bedroom. The nights are hot and steamy, and mornings, hazy and warm. We discover things about each other, find out our pet hates and our likes. We discover one another slowly peeling back the layers that once cocooned us.
I discover New York through Dexter. He takes me to museums and art galleries—the places his mother used to take them, he mentions casually one day. Places that matter to him, that hold memories he cherishes, and I love that he’s sharing these places with me.
We stroll around the city, holding hands, laughing rich and deep, talking soft and secretly. Sharing our innermost desires and fears, recall poignant moments from our childhood and teenage years.
We skirt around the deeper things. About his mother, and the weight of the guilt he carries. About this marriage, and what it is and isn’t. There will come a time when we’ll talk about those things, but not yet.
We make love all over his apartment. The couch, the shower, up against the refrigerator. On the floor.
We can’t get enough of one another. he makes me feel complete. Happy in ways I never thought were possible.
I never thought this would happen, that I’d fall in love with my husband, and he’d fall in love with me.
But it has, and this city suddenly feels like home.