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And I don’t.
I find a rhythm, hands working with my mouth, sucking him until his head falls back against the tile and he groans my name like it’s a fucking confession.
“Such a good little thief,” he grits out. “So fucking eager. You love it when I use your mouth, don’t you? Bet your pussy’s dripping just from this.”
I moan around him, and he loses it.
“That’s it, baby. Suck it just like that. Jesus—your mouth’s like sin.”
His voice roughens, frays. “Shit—Dahlia—” His voice breaks on the next word. “Gonna come. Gonna fucking come down your throat. That what you want? You want Daddy’s come choking you?”
His abs clench. His thighs shake.
“Fuck—yes—goddamn it, just like that, fuck—I can’t?—”
When he finally comes—thick and hot against my tongue—he pulls me up and slams his mouth onto mine. No hesitation. Just possession. As if the taste of himself on my lips only turns him on more.
The kiss is savage. His hands grip my ass, his tongue relentless. I melt into him, even though I know I shouldn’t. Even though I swore I wouldn’t.
Afterward, he lathers soap in his hands and starts washing me. Efficient. Focused.
But when he kneels to clean between my legs, his fingers slide in slow and deep, like he’s reminding me who owns me now.
I squirm. Moan.
He smirks. “Still sore?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe. Shaky, hips rolling into his seductive strokes.
“Good. I like you wrecked.”
I gasp when his tongue joins the cleaning process.
My hands land on Dante’s shoulders, my eyes drowning in obsidian black and he strokes and licks my pussy, coaxing another soul-shaking surrender.
“Come for me, little thief,” he croons.
And heaven fuck it all. I whimper and shudder and come.
Once I’m clean, he steps out and grabs a towel, drying me off with practiced care. Like I’m not a criminal he’s keeping under lock and collar.
Like I’m… something else.
“What are we doing today?” I ask, just to distract myself from weighty emotions.
“It’s the weekend,” he says simply, sliding the collar into place around my throat. “We’re taking the day off.”
My breath catches as the clasp clicks shut. The weight of it feels heavier today. Not physically, but emotionally. Like it means more now. Like I don’t know where the game ends and something real begins.
He sees the flicker of emotion on my face, but doesn’t press.
Just leans in and murmurs against my ear, “You’ll keep it on, little thief. All day. You’ll eat with me, walk with me, exist with me. And everyone will know exactly who you belong to.”
I swallow hard. My pulse flutters. Because there’s no pretending anymore. Not when my body obeys him before my mind catches up.
Not when Iwantthe collar.
And definitely not when part of me is scared to take it off.