7. Dominic
Jesus Christ, this is not good.
I pace my bedroom, refusing to let my mind wander to the naked, eighteen-year-old in my bathtub, willing my cock to go down. I desperately need some blood to go to my brain so I can fucking think, but my cock’s been hogging it all since the second I wrapped my arms around her. She’d looked so damn scared when she’d driven to me, and nothing else had mattered except getting her as close to me as possible. I’d needed to feel her heart beating against my chest and the heat of her breaths on my neck to convince me that she was safe, and I hadn’t given the slightest fuck that my men were watching.
She could’ve been killed tonight, and that thought alone nearly brings me to my knees. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. I’ve had forty-three goddamn years to find a woman who captivates me, and no one else has, no one’s even come close, and now the one woman I can’t have is the only one that I want.
It’s only because I know she’s forbidden, I try and tell myself, but I know that’s not true because I didn’t feel anything like this towards Svetlana, and she’s just as off-limits. No, it’s only Natalya that gets my blood pumping and my cock hard, and it’s only her that has me slowly crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. This is the second time she’s felt how hard I’ve been, and I was seconds away from kissing her and hiking her dress up just moments ago. I never should’ve told Lev that she should stay here, but the thought of her leaving wasn’t an option, not after what happened tonight. I need to know she’s safe, and the only way to do that is to keep her right next to me.
While she finishes her bath, I force myself to leave the room instead of pacing with a raging hard-on like some pathetic bastard who can’t get control of himself. My cock slowly starts to go down, and when I’m almost at the bottom of the stairs and I see the bloody footprint she’d left on my carpet, all the lust I’d just felt is replaced with a searing rage that threatens to consume me.
Knowing someone tried to hurt her, tried to fucking kill her, makes it difficult to breathe. I’ve known rage before. I was consumed by it while trying to find my sister’s killer, but this is different. This doesn’t feel like the pain from knowing someone I love and care about has been hurt. This is an anger that resonates in my core and cuts me to the quick. This is about someone daring to hurt what’s mine, and that’s a dangerous fucking thought to have.
She’s not mine, I remind myself, but they’re just words, and every part of my body knows that. There’s a truth that goes deeper than words and thoughts and forced actions, and that truth is screaming at me right now that Natalya Melnikov is most definitely mine.
Lev would be so fucking thrilled to know that.
I shake my head, burying the truth I’m not ready to face down deep before I walk into the kitchen. Lucia is busy preparing supper, but as soon as she sees me, she drops the wooden spoon she’s using to stir the pasta sauce with and rushes over to me. Lucia started working for my family when she was twenty and I was just a baby. She’s always been like a second mother to me, and I’m not at all surprised to see the concern in her eyes. Her heart has always been too big to work for a family like this, and I know she only stayed because of her love for my sister and me. Isabella’s death nearly killed her. She felt it just as strongly as the rest of us, and when I’d told her she could retire, that she’d always be taken care of financially, the hurt on her face had ensured I’ll never ask again. She’s family, and she’ll be here until the day she dies.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine, Lucia, barely a scratch on her. She’s soaking in the tub now. I’m going to make sure she eats and then force her to get a good night of sleep.”
Lucia nods like she thinks my plan is a good one and goes back to stirring. “I’ll make you a tray of food to bring up. She needs her strength.”
I can already imagine the huge helping of food Natalya’s about to get, and I can’t help but smile. Lucia shows her love through food, and my little Russian is about to get a huge dose of it. I ignore the way my mind immediately switched to the possessive my, and instead pat Lucia’s shoulder on my way out.
“Thank you, Lucia. I’ll be back to get it in a minute. I want to talk to Dr. Bianchi before Natalya is finished with her bath.”
“Tell him supper’s almost ready.”
I smile back at her, because we both know she’s never late on having supper ready and that the doctor never misses a meal. Dr. Bianchi came to my father before I was born, desperate and willing to do anything to get revenge on the man who’d killed his wife in a hit-and-run. My father delivered the man to him, not caring that it was the son of another powerful mafia don, and Dr. Bianchi got his revenge and pledged his life to the Alessi family. He never got over the death of his wife, but I know he and Lucia have had a thing going on for well over a decade. I know everything that happens under my roof, but I pretend I don’t see it because if they wanted me to know, they’d tell me themselves. He’s nearing eighty, and she’s in her late sixties, and both of them immediately shut me down anytime I mention retirement.
Heading downstairs, I peek into the operating room I had built for him that rivals the best hospital in the city. It’s saved more of my men’s lives than I can remember, but it’s currently empty and dark. Knowing he has to be around here somewhere, I keep walking to his private area of the house. Having a doctor nearby has proven to be one of the best decisions my father ever made, and when I see Dr. Bianchi sitting in a chair by the window, book in hand and reading glasses on, a sadness hits me that I wasn’t expecting. I let very few people into my personal life, and I’ve already lost so many of them. I’m not looking forward to losing the few I have left.
As soon as he sees me, he puts the book down, concern written all over his face. “Is something wrong?”
I raise a hand for him to remain sitting when he starts to get up. “Everything’s fine. I just need some antibiotic cream and a few bandages.”
His eyes run over me, already fully in doctor mode. “Did you get hurt?”
I give him a pointed look because he knows me better than to think I’d come running to him for a band-aid, but his concern for me overrides his common sense sometimes.
“Natalya Melnikov was attacked not long ago. Her bodyguard took three bullets but still managed to send her to me. They were at a restaurant a few miles away. She’s unharmed, but her knees and the soles of her feet were rubbed raw in a few places, and I want to make sure it heals like it should.”
Whatever he hears in my voice has the corner of his mouth lifting up.
“What?” I ask, feeling defensive and mentally replaying everything I just said, trying to find what would cause the amused look in his eyes.
“I didn’t say anything.” He stands up and takes off his reading glasses, slipping them into his shirt pocket before motioning for me to follow him. He may be close to eighty, but he’s still pretty damn spry, and there’s no denying his skill as a doctor hasn’t wavered at all. We both know he’s not getting any younger, though, and he finally agreed that we need to bring someone else onboard to help him out and eventually take over. He’s being very picky about it, but I’m confident he’ll choose the perfect person when the time is right.
I follow as he goes into a storage room and grabs several bandages and a tube of cream. Holding them out to me, he asks, “Do you want me to take a look?”
“No, it’s okay. They’re minor scratches. I’m being overly cautious.”
Again he gives me an amused look.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”
He huffs out a small laugh. “I’ve known you a long time, Dominic.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t usually come down here for antibiotic cream because someone has a tiny boo-boo.”
“She’s Lev’s daughter,” I tell him, ignoring the boo-boo comment. “I gave him my word that she’d be safe and looked after.”
He gives another laugh because obviously his old age has made him reckless as well as fearless. When he sees the look I’m giving him, he smiles even bigger and says, “Well, this should be interesting.”
“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.” I take the medicine and bandages and turn to leave. “Thanks, Dr. Bianchi.”
“I’ve told you a million times you can call me Carlos,” he says from behind me.
I turn my head without slowing down. “And I’ve told you a million times it’s a sign of respect, old man.”
He laughs again, and before I’m too far away, I yell, “Lucia said supper is almost ready.”
I turn back around in enough time to see his eyes light up, and then it’s my turn to give an amused laugh. He waves his hand at me in a playful, shut the hell up kind of way that has me laughing as I close the door and head back into the kitchen. The tray Lucia made is already loaded to capacity and ready to go. I notice she’s put my supper on here as well, and I don’t question her on it. Instead, I pick it up and tell her thanks and make my way back upstairs to my room.
The mouthwatering scent of spaghetti wafts up to me, reminding me of how hungry I am. I’d gotten sidetracked with work and hadn’t bothered eating lunch. The truth is I haven’t had much of an appetite over the last two weeks. All I’ve been able to think about is Natalya, and it had taken all my willpower to not text her like some fucking desperate teenager. My pride is the only thing that had kept me in check.
Walking into my bedroom, I shut the door behind me for reasons I can’t explain and set the tray of food down on the dresser. The bathroom door is still shut, so I give a soft knock and when she doesn’t answer, I call her name. When she still doesn’t answer, I knock harder and feel my heart rate start to rise.
“Natalya, are you okay?”
Images of her unconscious and under the water from some head injury I didn’t know about run through my mind. Had I asked her if she’d hit her head on the sidewalk when Grigori pushed her down? I can’t fucking remember. A cold sweat breaks out along my spine, and I give her three seconds to answer. When she doesn’t, I open the door, terrified of what I’m going to find.
Rushing into the bathroom, I see her in the tub and freeze. She’s not unconscious and under the water like I’d feared. Her head is resting back against the towel she’d put under her neck, dark strands of hair framing her face, eyes closed, and naked body on full display. I didn’t have bubble bath, so nothing is hiding her from my view. I let out a harsh breath at the sight of her small, wet body. My eyes start at her feet, running up her tan, slender legs, and when I reach the bare, smooth skin of her sex, I have to choke back the growl I want to give. Fisting my hands to keep from reaching out and touching her, my gaze continues upwards, drinking in the sight of her—hips that I want to sink my fingers into, a stomach I want to kiss my way up, and two perky breasts with nipples in the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen. She’s fucking delectable, a woman I could spend a lifetime fucking and getting lost in and still never have enough.
When her lips part in a small sigh and I see that full, top lip of hers, I growl out in Italian, telling her how badly I want and need to fuck her. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, her eyes pop open. Confused and disoriented, she looks around before meeting my eyes again.
“Dominic?”
It takes her less than five seconds to remember where she is, and when her eyes drift down to her naked body, a red blush creeps up her chest, settling in her cheeks and turning them redder than I’ve ever seen them. I drink in the sight of her, knowing I need to turn around but unable to do so.
“Dominic,” she whispers again, and I hear the need in her voice.
I’m so close to stripping out of my suit and joining her, but she’s so fucking innocent and so fucking off limits. With a pained groan, I turn around and run a hand through my hair, forcing myself to take a steadying breath.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t answer me, and I was worried you’d passed out. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”
Knowing I can’t handle the temptation of being around her right now, I get my ass out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. Back to pacing my room with a raging hard-on, I experience another case of déjà vu, and it pisses me the fuck off. This situation is spiraling out of control, and I’m doing a shit-poor job of getting things back on track. I’ve just readjusted my cock when I hear the bathroom door open.
All my hopes that things will get easier from here on out since she won’t be naked fly out the damn door when I see her standing in my clothes. The sweats are way too big on her, but she’s managed to tighten the drawstring so they’re at least staying on. I curse myself for choosing a white T-shirt, and I can’t help but wonder if subconsciously I’d done it on purpose just to torture myself as much as possible. She’s not wearing a bra, and her nipples are still hard, pressing against the thin fabric and taunting me like nothing else on earth ever has.
She shifts her weight, shy once again as she looks up at me. When she hesitates, I say, “Lucia made a tray for us. You need to eat.”
Looking down at her feet, she chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to stain your carpet again.”
“Fuck,” I sigh, pissed at myself yet again for forgetting about her feet. I’d been too preoccupied with thoughts of her naked body to remember the cream and bandages I’d gotten for her. Closing the distance, I pick her up and carry her to the bed. I force my mind away from thoughts of her tits pressed against me and the fact that she’s most likely not wearing any underwear, and instead think about her hurt feet.
She watches me grab the bandages and cream, never taking her eyes off me, and I wish I knew what she was thinking. Her expression is a mix of so many things—confusion, hurt, desire, worry, and I want to take it all from her. I want to erase everything that happened to her tonight and give her what her big, blue eyes are begging me for, but I can’t.
With a tired sigh, I kneel in front of her and place her foot on my thigh while I grab the tube of antibiotic cream and a band-aid.
“You really don’t need to do this, Dominic. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. You’re hurt, and I’m going to take care of you.” When it looks like she’s about to argue with me, I give her ankle a squeeze and shake my head. “There’s no use fighting me on it, principessa. I will get my way on this.” I may not be able to get my way on everything I want tonight, but she’s damn well getting her feet looked after. That at least I can do.
She sighs but keeps her mouth closed, giving up and letting me doctor her feet, and I can’t resist giving her a soft smile, pleased at her submission.
Cupping the back of her foot, I hold her still while rubbing a thin layer of ointment on the small scrapes and cuts. The bleeding has stopped, and it’s certainly not anything I’d be worried about if it were on my own feet, but I like taking care of her, so that’s what I do. I take my time, slowly sticking band-aids where I want them, and when both feet are bandaged up to my liking, I hook my fingers under the sweatpants at her ankle and slide the material up, exposing one knee to my hungry gaze.
She inhales sharply when I run my thumb along her skin, tracing an invisible line along the side of her knee until my finger dips under her pants, lightly grazing her inner thigh.
“I shouldn’t be allowed near you,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t be left alone with you, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t have you in my bed.”
With a shaky hand she reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair, and that one touch threatens to undo me. I close my eyes and lean into her, knowing it’s wrong, knowing I shouldn’t, but also unable to muster up enough strength to pull away.
“Maybe you should stop worrying so much.”
I sigh and open my eyes. Her blue eyes are searching mine, naively begging me for more, but she doesn’t have the faintest fucking idea of all the things I want to do to her.
“Maybe you should just do what you want,” she whispers like she can read my damn mind.
Leaning closer, I hear the breathy sigh she gives when my lips are hovering over her scraped knee and I raise my eyes to hers.
“You couldn’t handle what I want to do to you, principessa.”
I see the stubborn glint in her eyes, and before she can argue with me, I run my tongue over her knee, opening the small tears back up as the sharp tang of her blood hits me hard. My cock is painfully stiff and straining at my pants, and when I give her another lick, she lets out the softest, sexiest moan I’ve ever heard. Digging her fingers into my hair, she clings to me as her body starts to shake. I allow myself one more slow lick before pressing my lips to her skin and kissing her knee.
When I pull back, she’s breathing heavy and parting her thighs even more. I run my eyes over her and then let out a heavy sigh before getting to work on her knees. I put all my focus on getting her cuts cleaned up and the band-aids on, but nothing can take my mind off how badly I want to fuck her. I’m drawn to her in ways I can’t explain, and for the first time in my life, I begin to doubt my willpower. I’ve never acted on impulse before. I’m always in control. Even when plans get disrupted or work forces me into a situation that’s completely unplanned and unexpected, I’m always in control.
Natalya effortlessly fucks all that up. One look from her, one touch, one hint of her scent and I’m left disoriented and feeling like I’m completely adrift. It’s annoying as fuck, and I desperately need to learn to get it under control.
I pull her sweats back down and give her ankles a soft squeeze. “Sit back against the pillows, and I’ll bring you your supper. You need to eat something.”
“My mom called while I was in the bath.” She scoots back against the pillows, looking so small in my huge bed and so utterly perfect and at home. “She said Grigori is in surgery. They expect him to recover, but I think his career as my bodyguard is over.”
I carry the tray over and set it on the bed next to her before sitting on the edge. “It’s not your fault,” I remind her, because I don’t like to see her looking so sad.
She fusses with the end of her shirt, trying to keep her hands busy. “I guess not, but I still feel bad. Do you think they’ll let me visit him in the hospital.”
“No, absolutely not.”
She sighs, but my answer doesn’t surprise her. “Yeah, I thought not. I can order him some flowers, though, and visit with him as soon as he gets out.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” I hand her one of the full plates and then put a big piece of homemade bread on top.
“Jesus, that looks good.”
The awe and excitement in her voice has me smiling. “Lucia’s an amazing cook.”
“We were on our way to get lasagna tonight,” she admits, grabbing her fork and twirling it around the pasta. “I had a craving. Sasha and Mia were having Chinese, but I was craving Italian.” Her cheeks blush at her words, and she keeps her eyes firmly on her plate.
“I’ve never been to Mama Sofia’s. I can’t imagine it’s all that good.”
“Oh my god, it’s so good, Dominic. You have to try it.” She’s so strong in her conviction that her eyes meet mine while she says it. I laugh because what the fuck does a Russian know about good Italian food?
“Yeah, I bet,” I tell her, grabbing my own plate.
She hears the disbelief in my voice and points her finger at me. “I’m making you go there one day. You’re going to eat your words.” She uses her fork to point back at her plate. “This is amazing, and I’m not going to lie and say Mama Sofia’s is better, but it’s at least equal, and their garlic bread is to die for. I’m going to have you eating your words.”
“Whatever you say, principessa.” My words are still laced with doubt, and I can tell it annoys her. “Aside from Lucia, Mangia Bene has the best Italian food in the whole damn city.”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That fancy-pants place? Please, they’re all show and no substance.”
I bark out at laugh at the audacity. “It’s my favorite restaurant, and as an Italian, I can tell you the food is exceptional. The best I’ve had outside of my own kitchen and Italy.”
“What does mangia bene even mean? Is that Italian for mediocre, overpriced food?”
The corner of my mouth lifts up at her sassy tone. “It’s from a very common Italian phrase, Mangia bene, ridi spesso, ama molto. It means eat well, laugh often, love much.”
“Is that your life’s motto?”
I laugh before I can stop it. “Yeah, that’s me in a nutshell.”
The truth is I’ve smiled and laughed more around Natalya than I think I ever have in my life. She makes me forget everything. All the stress of my family and work and the pain of losing my sister so many years ago, it all fades away when I’m near her. She makes me feel alive and that life is worth living instead of just something you endure.
“I think my life’s motto has been more have another drink and maybe tomorrow will be better.”
Instead of giving me one of her easy laughs, she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Dominic. I’m sorry you’ve been so alone. My family can be overbearing and way too protective, but I can’t imagine not having them. I hope you know that you can always call me if you’re feeling lonely.” She gives me a soft smile. “Even if it’s just to argue about which Italian restaurant is best.”
I squeeze her hand back, touched by her sweetness. Women don’t selflessly give themselves to me like this, they always want something in return, but the innocent look in Natalya’s eyes makes it clear that she’s not expecting anything in return.
Reaching up, I run my finger lightly along her jaw, feeling my heart speed up when she parts her lips for me. I can’t resist dragging the pad of my thumb along her full, upper lip.
“I love that your top lip is slightly bigger than your bottom one. Do you have any idea how sexy that is?”
Her body gives a soft shudder. “No,” she whispers, and the same shudder runs through me when I feel the heat of her breath on my skin.
“Natalya.”
“Yes?”
“Be a good girl and eat your supper.”
Her pupils dilate at the good girl comment, but then disappointment floods them when I pull back and gently push her plate closer. I fill my own fork, forcing myself to eat the pasta instead of the beautiful, young woman sitting inches away from me.
I can tell she wants to argue with me, but her good sense and empty stomach win in the end. I try and hide my smirk when she takes a large bite of pasta, but she sees it and mutters something in Russian around her full mouth.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Her brows raise while she tries so damn hard to appear clueless, but there’s a smile playing at her lips. I wonder if she has any idea how goddamn beautiful she is.
“I might need to learn Russian.”
“And maybe I’ll learn Italian.”
I give her a big smile, because the thought of her speaking my native tongue does things to me.
We spend the next several minutes in comfortable silence while we eat until she lets out a groan and pushes her nearly empty plate away.
“I can’t. No more.” She gives a dramatic flop back against the pillows.
“But you still have dessert,” I remind her.
She groans like she’s in pain and curls into a ball, hugging one of the pillows to her chest. “I can’t do it. Please tell her it was delicious and I’m sorry, but I can’t take another bite.”
“I’ll leave it up here. Maybe you’ll change your mind in a few minutes.”
I finish the last few bites of my own food and stack our plates before putting the tray back on the dresser. I grab the bottle of whiskey I keep in here and a glass, pouring myself a generous drink while I check my phone.
“Any news?”
I look over at her, enjoying the sight of her on my bed while I say, “No. No one’s found anything yet. One of my men brought your bag over, though. I can bring it up now if you want to change into your own clothes.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds, snuggling deeper into my bed. “Do you mind if I keep wearing yours?”
“Not at all. My home is yours for as long as you need it, principessa. You can help yourself to whatever you want.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course,” I say before I can think better of it.
The mischievous glint in her eyes has me regretting my words. She waves me over and then pats the bed. I take a long drink while walking closer like there’s an invisible thread connecting us and I’m powerless to break it.
“Will you sit with me?”
Against all my better judgement, I sit down, propping my back against the padded headboard. She doesn’t waste any time. In seconds, she’s flipped over onto her other side and snuggled her body up close to mine, resting her head on my chest and hiking one leg over mine. Fuck, she fits me perfectly. I quickly down the rest of my drink and set the glass on the nightstand. I should push her away, but I don’t. I wrap my arms around her small body and pull her even closer. Her arm wraps around my chest in a hug, her head rests on my shoulder, her face close enough for me to feel the heat of her breath on my neck, and her thigh reaches up even higher, flush against my waist as her pussy presses into my side.
It’s pure fucking heaven, even though we both know it’s nothing but sin.
“Natalya,” I start to say, but she cuts me off by squeezing me tighter and kissing the side of my neck.
“My dad asked you to take care of me, Dominic. That’s all you’re doing.”
“I’m pretty sure this is not at all what he had in mind, principessa, and we both know it.”
Her small shoulders lift in a shrug. “It’s been one hell of a night, and I need comforting. You’re making me feel safe again. Please don’t make me lay in your giant bed all by myself.”
I run my hand along her back and shoulder, dragging my fingers along the bare skin of her arms and then tracing the same path back up, mesmerized by the feel of her. My eyes stray to the large picture of Bernini’s sculpture. I understand Hades in a new way now. All my instincts are telling me to keep Natalya in my arms, no matter what, and to never let her go.
I hold her, lightly stroking her skin until I’m convinced she’s seconds away from sleep. I’m waiting for her body to go limp and for her breathing to slow down and even out, but instead I feel a wet tongue on my neck.
“Fuck,” I growl as she lets out a soft sigh and runs her curious tongue along the crook of my neck like she’s trying to memorize every detail. “Natalya, you have to stop.”
As much as I want to make it sound like a command, it comes out as more of a plea. I’m only so fucking strong around her, and she’s wearing down my defenses faster than I ever thought possible. I’m pleading for mercy, but she’s evidently not in a merciful mood. Like a woman possessed, she grips my shoulders and positions her body on top of mine. Even with the sweats on, I can feel her pussy press against my abs, and when she uses my chest for leverage and lifts up, the pure, raw need in her eyes takes my damn breath away.
“Principessa,” I say, cupping her face and trying like hell to be rational for the both of us. “We’re about to cross a line that can’t be uncrossed.”
“I think maybe we crossed that line two weeks ago when I fell back against you and felt your hard cock digging into my ass.”
“We’ve stepped on the line, maybe put a damn foot over it, but we haven’t crossed it. Not yet anyway.”
“I don’t understand what you do to me.” The breathy whisper of her words has me clenching my jaw to keep from closing the distance to kiss her like I want. She leans closer, fingers digging into my shoulders, hips softly starting to rock. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Dominic, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
She leans closer so her lips are hovering right above mine, so close I could stick my tongue out and taste her.
“Make it stop,” she begs, rocking her hips even harder, trying her damnedest to grind against me as I feel my resolve melt away.
“Are you trying to use my body to get yourself off, principessa?” I dart my tongue out, giving her top lip a hint of a lick, smiling at the whimper she gives. “Tell me, sweetheart, does your pussy ache for me?”
I grab onto her hips, grinding her harder against me. The surprised gasp she gives is sexy as fuck.
“Yes, god yes.”
Her hands move to my face, palms splayed out on either side as she leans closer. I tighten my fingers around her hips, holding her still. I wait until her heavy-lidded eyes find mine.
“I can make you feel better, principessa, but I can’t give you any more than that.” I grind her against me as I rock my hips up, letting her feel a small taste of what I’m offering. “I can take that ache from you, if you want me too, but I can’t fuck you.”
The hurt look on her face is like a vise around my heart, but I don’t give in. I can’t take her virginity. I just fucking can’t. I’m already crossing a line that never should’ve been crossed. I’m breaking enough moral rules tonight. I don’t need to add to it.
I bring her attention back to what I’m offering with another slow rock of my hips. “Do you want me to make you feel better?”
She nods her head and lets out a breathy “yes,” and that’s all the invitation I need. Cupping the back of her head, I lace my fingers in her dark hair and ghost my lips over hers.
“I’ve thought about kissing you so many damn times, about tasting those full lips and feeling your body pressed against mine.”
She moans and rocks her hips, grinding shamelessly against my stomach.
“I’ve thought about fucking you in so many different ways, principessa. It’s all I can think about.”
I confess my sins against her lips, but I’m not hoping for forgiveness or wanting absolution. I don’t give a fuck about any of that. All I want is her. I want her beneath me, me inside her, her screaming my name and clenching that tight pussy around my cock. I want to mark her as mine in every conceivable way, and I never want to let her go.
Knowing I can’t have any of that pulls a pained groan from me right before I press my lips to hers and kiss her for the first time. I swallow her whimper, parting her lips with my tongue and delving inside for more, knowing it will never be enough. She keeps her hands on my face, surrounding me with her presence as she rocks harder against me. I kiss her slowly and deeply, savoring every second of the time I have with her, and when she lets out a frustrated groan at her inability to get herself off, I smile against her lips.
“I love feeling you grind against me, baby, but I’m going to be the one to get you off.”
I give her top lip a soft suck and squeeze her hip while I drag my thumb along her inner thigh, dipping low enough to stroke one of her pussy lips. I’d give anything to slide my hand down her pants and feel her bare, slick folds against my hand, but I know if I do that, then there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to resist sliding into her.
“Dominic,” she whimpers into our kiss, bringing one of her hands to the back of my neck to clutch me tighter.
I slide my thumb along her pussy, running up her slit until I find what I’m looking for. She breaks our kiss on a gasp when I give her a firm rub.
“Jesus,” she pants, making me smile.
I give her a wink. “Not quite.”
The smile she gives me lights up her whole face, and I can’t help but tell her exactly what I’m thinking.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I kiss her again, murmuring against her lips, “So fucking stunning it takes my damn breath away.”
I rub her faster, knowing it’s not going to take her long. She lets out another whimper, furrowing her brows and blushing even deeper. I can feel her getting shy on me, and I don’t like it. When she tries to duck her head, I press the pad of my thumb firmly against her, refusing to rub her like she needs me to.
Her eyes are filled with confusion when she looks up at me.
“Don’t hide yourself from me.” Leaning closer, I give her top lip another suck. “I don’t ever want you to hide any part of yourself from me. I want it all. Don’t hide and don’t fight what I’m trying to give you.”
She nods her head, letting out a whimper of pure need when I slowly circle her clit, teasing her until her breaths are soft, little pants and her thighs are shaking. “Come for me, principessa. Give me what I want.”
Her fingers grip the back of my hair when I rub her harder. I kiss her slowly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, and right before she comes, I wrap my fingers around her slender neck and pull her back so I can see her face when the orgasm hits her. Her heart races beneath my thumb while my other hand keeps working her. Her beautiful eyes widen and then go glassy and heavy-lidded as she moans my name and rocks her hips, increasing the friction and her pleasure.
She looks like the perfect mix of innocence and pure sin, and I swear all it would take is one touch of her hand on my cock and I’d be joining her, coming in my pants like a fucking teenager.
“Fuck,” I growl in Italian, tightening my grip on her neck and pulling her close again so I can kiss her. With my thumb still rubbing her clit in soft circles, I slide my tongue between her lips, needing to taste her again. Her body shudders against mine with her aftershocks, and when she becomes too sensitive and tries to squirm away, I smile against her lips and gentle my touch, stroking her softly until she melts in my arms.
God, I really should not have done this. Letting go of her is going to be hard enough, but how the fuck am I supposed to do it after knowing what my name sounds like spilling from her lips as she comes?
I’ve just made things a million times harder on myself, but even knowing that doesn’t make me push her from my arms.
If anything, I hold her tighter, wishing like hell I could keep her for myself.