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“What do you want me to do?”

“Tie me up and fuck me.”

His nostrils flare and a lock of wayward hair falls onto his face as he surges forward and stands behind me. The scarf comes down around my eyes, not too tight that it is uncomfortable, but tight enough that it puts a veil of darkness across my sight. He pulls my head back until I am pressing into his erection. Every single thing he does heightens the level of pleasure I feel even before we start. He grabs my ponytail and gives it a pull, then moves a hand across my neck and down into my blouse. I am flying in the dark as I imagine what he is doing by feel only, not knowing what to expect. I gasp in surprise as he rips my shirt off me and I hear the metal ting of my buttons as they scatter across the room.

I can hear his breathing, heavy and laboured. I don’t know how far he’ll go tonight, but it’s never been so much from him that I can’t handle the pain. And every single time has been different, a new experience I never considered could surpass the previous day’s one.

“What’s the safe word, Kingsley?” He only uses my full name now if he’s addressing me seriously. Otherwise it is always King. Our safe word is a serious thing. He takes my safety seriously, and he will stop if I tap out.

“Moneybags.”

“Moneybags,” he repeats, and I can feel the smile in his voice. I can feel the swell of lust radiating from him. I can feel him everywhere, even though he isn’t touching me.

“Stand up,” he commands, and I do, stepping away from the armchair.

I feel his warm body pressed against my back as he lowers the sleeves of my shirt down my shoulders, and lets it drop. I hear and feel the zip of my skirt as he slowly unzips it, but makes no effort to remove it from around my waist. Instead, he snakes an arm around my front and cradles my sex in his hands, moving his fingers back and forth slowly.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” he says, and my breath catches in my throat before I can answer.

“All yours,” I tell him.

“Name, King. I want a name.”

He’s commanding and domineering and powerful, and I love it.

“Dante.”

“And who’s Dante?”

I pause. We’ve been together almost a month. Seen and been with each other daily. Lived and breathed one another, and I can’t imagine my life without him. But we’ve never labelled what this is between us. We’ve never articulated what we mean to one another. Quite simply, we haven’t spoken about it. I don’t know what would be the right word to use. But I’m not afraid to get the answer wrong. If I’m wrong, Dante always corrects me.

I settle on “My lover.”

Dante’s hand stills. Only momentarily, for a few seconds, before he pulls his hand away, steps back a few paces, then orders me to lay down on the bed. He takes my hand and guides me, then pulls my skirt off once I am on the bed and starts to suck on the inside of my thigh.

72

DANTE

Things have been going good between Kingsley and me. Until she refers to me asher lover. She may have noticed my pause, but I’m not sure she would have been able to interpret my reticence after that word. She will always be beautiful and desirable, but something inside me cools when she utters that word, and I can’t understand why until I leave her sleeping in her bed and pull on my pants, then trail out to the living room.

I pour myself a drink and sit, tossing the word around in my head, trying to understand what it is that has affected me. What it means for me. I have been with many women in my life, but never in a relationship like this. Never one that has lasted this long. Never one I never want to end. The word lover denotes something short term. Almost like an informal arrangement. I sit there for hours, tossing the word around in my head as sleep eludes me.

“Dante?” King’s soft voice comes from the doorway. I look up and find her with her hip cocked, leaning against the door frame, wearing only her panties. Her hair trails down her chest, covering her breasts in the most exotic way I’ve ever seen. My breath stutters even before it has a chance to reach my lips, my eyes fixed on her body. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. And she’s all mine.

“Aren’t you coming to bed, baby?”

And that right there answers all the questions that have been running around rampant in my head. I hate the thought of being King’s lover simply because I don’t want to be something temporary in her life. I don’t want to have casual or informal with her. I don’t want to be just her lover. And I don’t ever want to think of any other man in her bed.

* * *

I orderKing out of her penthouse at 8am, telling her to meet me for breakfast. I keep it casual, taking her to a little cafe up the street, close enough to the relative safety of our buildings, and easy for our security team to follow us on foot. Over breakfast, I tell her the penthouse is off limits today so I can organize a handyman for some non-existent maintenance work of some issues I noticed yesterday. She is more put out that we won’t be having sex for lunch than any damage to her home.

“But why can’t it wait?” she argues. “Does it have to be today?”

“That leak in your bathroom could cause major problems, King.”

She doesn’t believe me. She fixes me with a look that clearly states ‘are you kidding me, right now’ then reminds me that the home has recently been renovated. I don’t know why I even try to underestimate King; she’s always one step ahead of me.