Page 23

He had no idea.  I'd have given anything for that.
Also, he was a master at manipulating me.  He'd nearly made me forget why I was so upset with just a few drugging sentences.   
Still, I tried to rally, to get back on point.  "It's semen," I answered his earlier question. 
"What?" he asked sharply, his hand still kneading at my breast, his thumb rubbing circles around my puckered nipple
"On my shirt.  It's cum.  My grandma went digging through the garbage can outside this morning, found a bunch of our used condoms, and woke me up by throwing them on me." 
His free hand came up to finger my cheek, and he seemed to notice my face for the first time.  "She was slapping you again, wasn't she?" 
I shrugged, dislodging his hand.  "Does it matter?" 
"Of course it matters!  If she's putting her hands on you again, I'm going down there—"
"What are you going to do that you haven't done before?  Even if you talk sense into her, she'll forget it all the next time she's drunk." 
"Are you okay?"
I shrugged again, not looking at him.  "I'm fine."  Code, of course, for not fine. 
"We're going to go down there, and I will call the police." 
"You think that will help?  Last time we did that, she turned it on me, said I was hitting her and nearly had me arrested."
"Fuck," he cursed, because he knew I was right.  The cops were never on my side.  I'd been in too much trouble to ever ask the authorities for help.  "Well, I'll walk you down and keep her away from you while you grab some clean clothes.  In the meantime, though, take off your shirt."
"Excuse me?" 
He grinned, shrugging off his jacket, loosening his tie.  "I'll give you mine.  You shouldn't have to wear that dirty one for another second."  He was already unbuttoning his before he'd finished speaking. 
I took off my shirt, and in spite of everything, or maybe because of that, the way his eyes moved on my bared body, I was suddenly ravenous for him—insanely, madly, starved. 
I licked my lips, hands going to the button of my jeans.  "Dante," I rasped. 
He dropped his shirt and jacket on the ground, crowding close to me.  He still had his undershirt on, unfortunately, but I took care of it in short order. 
"Do you have anything on you?" I asked, rubbing my chest against his. 
He was flushed and panting into my face.  "Yeah.  I was just about to come find you."  He pulled a wad of condoms out of his pocket.  "Please, please, get on the pill." 
I'd had some weird paranoia about my grandma figuring out I was having sex if I went through all the steps of getting on the pill, but that cat was evidently out of the bag.  "Okay," I panted, stroking him through his slacks.  "I will.  Soon as I can."
We didn't even kiss, which may have been a first, but I was too far gone.  I braced my hands against a tree as he worked my jeans off, got us both ready, and took me from behind. 
He kneaded my breasts, mouth rasping in my ear as he pushed into me.     
It was quick but still more tender than rough.  I came with a fast and quiet intensity, shutting my eyes tight, barely making a sound. 
He came louder, much louder, calling out my name as he rooted deep and finished.
He was still rutting inside of me, milking out every last twitch when he stiffened suddenly.
"Fuck.  Tiffany," he said, voice pitched loud. 
That, of course, made me stiffen.  I was craning my neck around, heart already wounded with just two words, absolute murder in my eyes.
Had he really just said Tiffany?  I couldn't quite believe it. 
But as my eyes caught on movement in the woods, it all made sense.  There she was, backing away, eyes wide.  Our gazes met an instant before she turned and fled. 
"What the fuck was that?" I asked no one in particular. 
"She accidentally walked up on us, I think," Dante said, coming way too fucking quickly to her defense.  "She couldn't have known we'd go twenty feet into the woods and start having sex." 
"She clearly doesn't understand us at all, then." 
"We need to stop doing this.  That's twice now someone's been creeping on us in the woods.  I don't like it."  As he spoke, his weight lifted off my back and he slipped out of me. 
I turned, leaning my back against the tree as I looked up, up, up at him.  "I can control myself if you can."  It was probably a lie, but one I doubted I'd ever be tested on.
As though proving my point, his eyes were on my body, one hand going to cup my breast, the other to my sex.  "Did you get off?   You were so quiet I couldn't tell."
I bit my lip and lied, "I didn't."
"I'm sorry.  Want me to take care of you?" he asked, voice gone quiet and dark.  He moved closer, thumb circling my clit as he pushed a finger inside of me. 
I gasped and nodded.  "Please, Dante," I pleaded, because he loved that, and as a sort of penance for the selfish, pointless lie.  I hadn't had to make him feel guilty to get him to go down on me, but for some reason I'd wanted to.  Needed that element of repentance in his touch.
He wasn't the only manipulative one here.      
He lowered to his knees, perched one of my legs onto his shoulder, and buried his face between my thighs.  He pushed two fingers into me and went to work on my clit with his tongue, his free hand sliding up to fondle my breasts.