I WANT TO BE NORMAL
W e’ve been living together for a week, and it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Although, when I fall asleep, it’s like nothing good has ever happened in my life.
Dante has to wake me from a nightmare every single night. I hate that I can’t let him sleep properly. He told me he struggles with insomnia, and now he’s skipping his pills to stay alert for me. It’s sweet, but I hate it. I want him to sleep well too.
It doesn’t matter if he’s next to me, if he comes to bed late, or whether he’s awake or asleep, those nightmares always come back. And I’m so tired of them.
Will they ever stop?
There’s only one thing I can think of to make it up to him, but I’m not sure if I’m ready—
No! Screw that. I’ll never be ready if I don’t push myself. And I want to do this.
I glance toward the bed from the bathroom door. Dante’s shirtless, already lying on the bed, engrossed in a book.
He. Looks. So. Handsome.
“Could you… close your eyes?”
I’m wearing a slip dress. I’m embarrassed, even though he’s already seen me naked, but I don’t dare let him see me like this.
Dante stares at me with raised eyebrows.
“Please?” My voice is barely a whisper.
He smiles, sets the book aside, and covers his eyes with his hands. I hurry to my side of the bed, slipping under the blankets and pulling them up to my neck.
“Done.”
A soft smile lingers on his lips as he leans over, pressing a kiss to my forehead before picking up his book again.
Not once has he ever tried to initiate anything with me—not even when I’ve felt his… thing nudging my back a few times.
Does he not like me?
“Dante, could you—I want...”
“What do you need?”
You.
“I—could you lie down, just like me?”
He sighs, putting the book aside once more. He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around me, our legs intertwining.
Since I’m almost naked in this tiny slip dress, his warm skin presses against mine, and I melt into the contact. I love this—Him.
“I want you to help me,” I whisper.
“To sleep?”
I shake my head.
“I want to be normal. I want to—I want you to make me...”
Why can’t I say it? I can’t even think about those words without feeling uncomfortable!
“You are normal, sweetheart. I don’t know what you mean.”
I sigh, leaning forward to press my lips to his. Once, then again, and again.
“ Ragnetta —”
I climb onto his lap, straddling him. His grip tightens on my hips, and for one fleeting moment, he grinds against me before stopping himself, letting me go.
“Please,” I whisper. “I want to be normal.”
“You are normal, amore . You don’t need to do this.”
“I want to. You have no idea how much I want to.”
I kiss him again. His hands glide over my thighs, trailing to my waist. They pause at my cheeks, cradling me gently, before sliding down to my breasts.
His thumbs brush over my nipples, sending a shock through me. I gasp.
His hips rise to meet mine just as I start to move, and—
A man touches me while others move my hand up and down his penis. He’s naked. My hand feels so disgusting I want to throw up.
Tears blur my vision as he leans in and wraps his lips around my nipple, sucking hard.
“ Ragnetta , you’re here.”
I’m digging my fingers into his chest, but he doesn’t flinch or move a single inch.
I collapse against him, pressing my head to his chest as sobs shake my body.
“I want to be normal,” I say through the tears. “Please, help me.”
I don’t want to feel them anymore.
He sighs softly, his hand stroking through my hair.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
I wipe my face, looking up at him in confusion. “Why would I?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “I think that’s where we should start. Turn around for me, amore . Put your back against me.”
My cheeks flame with heat, but I do as he says. I settle between his legs, feeling his warmth surround me as he wraps one arm around my waist.
“I’ll guide your hand,” he murmurs. “But you’ll touch yourself. Okay?”
“I think so.”
“Look at me.”
I lift my gaze to meet his, barely taking in the depth of his dark eyes before his lips crash into mine. His kiss is intense, consuming, as if he wants to pull every breath from me.
His hand moves down, grazing my waist and slipping to the inside of my thigh. His touch is soft, teasing, like a feather gliding over my skin. Heat pools in my belly, spreading lower, making me feel strange.
He tangles his fingers in my hair, holding me in place, while his other hand guides mine. He moves it over my body, retracing his touch.
He shifts my hand to my chest, covering it with his own to press it against my breast. “Touch yourself with both hands.”
Swallowing hard, I obey, trembling. My eyes don’t leave his, searching for approval, for guidance.
“Now brush your nipples. Pinch them,” he says, his voice low and firm.
My cheeks burn as I comply. A sound escapes me—a moan I hadn’t meant to make. I freeze, horrified by my reaction.
But Dante’s smile is different. Proud, encouraging. He leans in to kiss me again, as if reassuring me that I’m doing something right.
He guides my hand down to my ribs, then my belly, stopping at the hem of my panties. He doesn’t pull them down or slide my hand inside. Instead, he presses my fingers over the fabric, moving them until they touch a spot where the heat gathers.
“You need to touch yourself here,” he whispers against my ear, his voice igniting every nerve in my body.
His hand moves further, guiding my fingers lower. The fabric is damp, clinging to me, and I wonder if he feels it too.
“You can slide your fingers in here,” he murmurs,
“Can I?”
His soft smile brushes against my hair. “Yes. Now suck on them,” he says.
“My—my fingers?”
He nods. Swallowing my hesitation, I obey. Then, I lower my hand again. Dante hooks the edge of my panties, slowly pulling them aside. His hands guide mine as I press my fingers into myself, the warmth and tightness startling me.
“You can touch your clit, or do this… or both, if you’d like.”
“Both?” I gasp.
“With both hands,”
Panting, I keep moving my fingers as he guides me.
The tingling inside me grows, an ache that refuses to fade no matter how I touch myself or move my hips.
It feels good, unbearably good, yet not enough.
My mind fogs with pleasure, and the slick sounds of my fingers against my wetness grow louder.
That, and our breathing, is all that fills the room.
“Go back to your clit,” he whispers, his voice husky.
“But it feels too good,” I whimper.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” His question sends a fresh wave of heat crashing over me.
That’s it.
I nod.
With one hand, Dante cups my cheek, tilting my face until I’m locked in his intense gaze. Then, he slips two fingers into my mouth.
“Lick them good,” he commands.
“Lick them or it will hurt,” my father says.
A shiver runs down my spine. Dante frowns. When he pulls his fingers away, he leans in, kissing me deeply.
“You’re with me. No one else,” he whispers. “ You are touching yourself.”
“I know,” I pant, almost breathless. “I trust you.”
He lowers one of his hands to where mine are still moving, my fingers dipping in and out, slick with need.
“Don’t stop looking at me, amore . Keep touching yourself,”
As I pull my fingers out, his plunge inside of me, curling until they reach a spot that makes my body seize with pleasure. I arch my neck, unable to control the reaction, but Dante firmly guides my head back to face him.
“Eyes on me,” he growls. “Show me how much you like this.”
My fingers circle my clit in frantic movements. I don’t know what he’s doing with his fingers, but there’s a specific spot that takes me to the edge. I think I’m about to lose control of my body.
“This is… oh, God.”
“Keep your legs spread for me, amore . Keep going.”
The shyness in me dissipates entirely. I grab the hand he uses to hold my face and guide it to my chest, pressing it against my nipple.
He takes the hint, pinching it between his fingers.
The sharp, delicious sensation makes me melt against him, and I rest my head on his shoulder, surrendering completely.
“Oh, fuck!”
His movements quicken, and I try to match the rhythm over my clit. Dante’s lips trail along my neck as his hands roam over my body, groping me with possessive fervour. I love it. I’d still love it even if he were rougher.
All of this feels so good.
“Come on my hand, sweetheart. Let it go.”
The tension inside me snaps, releasing a wave of pleasure so intense I see stars. I cry out, my body writhing as the sensation overtakes me.
Breathing heavily, I still my hand, and Dante stops too. He removes his fingers slowly.
“Open your mouth.”
As I part my lips, he slides his fingers inside. The taste of myself on his skin takes me by surprise, but it encourages me to slide my fingers into his mouth. His eyes ignite with an emotion I can’t name.
Meeting his gaze, a flush of shyness creeps back in, and I lift a hand to half-cover my face as he pulls his fingers away.
He smiles. “You need to turn your head off.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, breathless.
He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“It means you need to push away those thoughts, the ones that hold you back. Shut them out. Let your body lead. Focus on the sensations you just felt. In time, you’ll forget what you’re afraid of. You can also use new experiences to replace past ones. Some say it works.”
“Like… changing your memories?”
“Exactly.”
“Would you help me?”
His lips brush mine in a soft, lingering kiss.
“You can do anything you want with me, amore . I’m all yours.”