Yours On The Dotted Line
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“Are you and baby girl okay?”
God, this man. Even as he’s about to come undone, he’s thinking about us.
I smile, breathless. “Just fuck me already.”
“Con piacere, topina.” (With pleasure, little mouse.)
He braces one knee beside me for leverage—and then he’s pounding into me, his rhythm brutal, desperate, unrelenting.
My nails rake down his back. I arch into him, gasping as another orgasm builds in the pit of my stomach.
“QUINN!” Dante roars as he slams into me one final time, spilling himself deep inside.
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