Chapter 40 Can you handle me

Chapter 40 Can you handle me
Marilyn’s POV
The silence that followed my question felt like the room inhaled and forgot how to exhale.
Dante didn’t move. Not an inch. His eyes stayed on me, not shocked, not offended, just… searching. Like he was trying to figure out if the alcohol was talking for me or if this was actually me.
Maybe it was both.
I sat there, suddenly aware of my heartbeat, the warmth of the room, the soft hum of the refrigerator down the hall. Everything felt sharper than it did five minutes ago. His shirt was still in his hand, hanging loosely between his fingers, and he hadn’t looked away from me once.
“Marilyn,” he said quietly. His voice was steady but heavy. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
And the thing was… I did. Maybe too well.
“You said we can’t fall in love with each other.”
I let out a short laugh that sounded too loud for the room. “I asked if you wanted to see my kitty, not if you were in love with me. Geez, thanks for ruining the moment.” I rolled my eyes and pushed myself back, scooting toward the other end of the couch so I could grab my phone.
I didn’t even make it an inch.
Dante grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back with more urgency than I expected. Before I could ask what he thought he was doing, his hand slid up my side and he kissed me.
My eyes widened. My whole body went still from the shock. His mouth was warm. Soft. Hesitant for half a second and then suddenly not hesitant at all. I froze, but when his lips pressed harder, something sharp and electric moved through my stomach and spread fast. It made my breath catch and scatter.
The kiss deepened and I didn’t even think. My hands lifted and grabbed his shoulders, steadying myself because it felt like the couch tilted under us. My lips parted on instinct and I kissed him back, slow at first, then hungry, because I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until now.
He suddenly pulled away.
“Don’t go shy on me now,” I said with a teasing smile. I pushed him back and guided him onto the couch, then slid onto his lap. His eyes went dark the moment my weight settled on him.
I rolled my hips slowly, testing him, feeling the thick pressure of his bulge under me. “I know you want to see my kitty, Dante. But can you handle me though?”
His breath hitched. The sound was rough and low.
I quickened the grind of my hips and felt his hands tighten on my waist as he let out a quiet, strained groan that went straight between my legs.
I slid my hands off his shoulders and down to the buttons of my top. I undid the first one, slow enough for him to see the shape of my cleavage. “Can you handle me, Dante?”
I didn’t slow my pace. I kept grinding on him, steady and deliberate, watching him fight to keep his eyes open. He kept staring at my chest like it was the only thing keeping him conscious. His grip on my waist tightened and his whole body went rigid under me. He was right on the edge and trying not to break.
I felt the wetness through his trousers before I saw it. My movements slowed. I looked down.
“I guess not,” I said with a smile and lifted myself off his lap.
I stood and looked at the dark patch on his fabric. “Too bad you let all that juice go to waste.”
The words barely left my mouth before I saw it happen. Dante went hard again right in front of me, faster and thicker than before. My breath hitched. He stood up, and the size of him made me step back on instinct. He unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down. My eyes widened.
I stepped back again but my heel caught on something on the floor and I fell to my knees.
Dante took slow steps toward me. He looked down at me like I had just challenged him to something I didn’t fully understand.
“Now it’s my turn to ask you,” he said, voice low and steady. “Can you handle me, Marilyn?”
I stared at his erection. It was impossible to ignore. I smirked and leaned forward, wrapping my hand around him. He sucked in a breath when my fingers closed fully. I stroked him, slow at first, then firmer, watching his jaw tighten as he tried to stay composed.
I lifted my gaze to meet his and leaned in. I took the tip into my mouth while I kept stroking him, my tongue circling the warm skin. His control slipped right there. His hand braced on the back of the couch, shoulders tense, breathing uneven.
He was trying hard to show he could handle me. So I decided to push him further.
I guided him backward until he sat on the couch. I didn’t climb onto him. I sank to my knees between his legs and took him into my mouth again. This time deeper. Slower. I felt him twitch against my tongue.
The burn in my jaw started early but I pushed through it, steady and deliberate. He groaned, low and rough, and his hand slid into my hair. At first he just held it. Then his grip tightened and he began thrusting into my mouth, controlled at first, then harder as he lost the last of his restraint.
I felt myself get even wetter from how intense it was. His breathing grew heavier, his thighs tense, his breaths uneven. He was close. Too close to pretend otherwise.
His grip tightened in my hair as he thrust into my mouth, his breath growing rougher by the second. He was close. I could feel it in the way his thighs trembled and how he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or hold it in.
Right before he tipped over, I pulled back.
Dante let out a sharp sound that was half frustration, half disbelief. His eyes snapped open, dark and wild, like he couldn’t understand why the pleasure stopped.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood slowly. His gaze followed me up, hungry and confused. I climbed onto his lap again, straddling him, but this time I didn’t grind. I held his jaw and made him look at me.
“You wanted to know if I could handle you,” I said softly.
His hands gripped my waist, desperate, like he needed something to hold on to. I rolled my hips once, slow and controlled, and his whole body jerked beneath me. He tried to guide my hips again but I caught his wrists and pinned them to the back of the couch.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
He swallowed hard. His breathing was uneven. His eyes were blown-out with need.
I let my hips move again, slow circles that dragged against the length of him. He bit down on a groan. I felt him pulse against me, harder than before, his body going rigid under my hands.
“Marilyn,” he said. It sounded like a warning but his voice broke halfway.
I leaned in close to his ear. “Let go.”
The second I said it, he did. His head tipped back, a shudder ran through his body, and he came again, harder than the first time. I held his wrists until the tension drained from his arms and he slumped back into the couch, breathing like he had just run a mile.
I stayed on his lap, watching him try to recover, his chest rising and falling fast.
When he finally opened his eyes, I smiled at him.
“Told you. You couldn’t handle me when I didn’t even put it in. That should tell you a lot.”
I said it with a smile that I knew would bruise his ego in the best way.
Dante opened his mouth, probably ready to defend himself or drag me right back onto his lap, but my phone rang at that exact moment.
Perfect timing. Terrible timing. Depends who you ask.
I slid off him fast, grabbing my phone from the table. My legs were still shaking a little, but I pretended that was not happening.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I said, already half out of the room before he could say a word.
I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me.
Still dazed.
Still turned on.
Still trying to figure out what just happened.
And I left him there to think about it.