Chapter 14
14
G ia
Dante kisses me, and I circle my arms around his neck, loving how close we are. Our mouths explore each other, our tongues stroking, our breaths mingling. A powerful current of heat flows through me from head to toe, and suddenly, this is the best birthday I've ever had.
He devours my mouth like I'm his lifeline. His cock pokes me, and I shiver as a shock of emotional response comes down on me too quickly—so quickly, I'm lightheaded. He slams me against the wall, and I clench my legs around him tighter, loving the closeness, the heat sifting through our clothes.
He wrenches his mouth from mine, and we're both panting like we just ran miles and miles, jumping obstacles for good measure. "Lucia... you're insane."
"I want you so much," I say. "I can't wait."
"You're a greedy girl, aren't you?"
"Yes." How can I tell him I've never been this way before? Not outwardly. A part of me longed to experience passion, but I knew that idea was so far removed from my reality that I tucked it away. But now, these raw, tender, exhilarating emotions fill my body like the air I breathe. "I'm greedy for you."
"Until when?" He throws me on the bed, my robe loosening in the process. Then, he folds his knee onto the mattress and leans closer, undoing the rest of my knot and opening my robe.
"Let's find out," I say, wiggling out of the robe like I'm on fire.
He removes his jacket and tosses it on the floor, but I happily volunteer to pull his shirt up, over his head, and then his jeans. The minute he stands wearing only his black briefs, my breath catches in my throat. Dante is gorgeous. The way his muscles bunch as he moves, the tattoos swirl on his strong arms, his kissable lips curl at the corner of his mouth—his perfection wrapped into a dangerous package.
Maybe I can make him… less perfect.
I prop myself on my elbows, scoot on the bed until I reach the nightstand, and grab the cupcake he gave me. I remove the wrapper and lift it as he watches me with purposeful, hungry eyes.
A bad memory flashes through my brain, but I will it away. I replace it with the image from the last time I had sex—with the man who's now under me, wearing nothing but a sexy smile that curls my toes.
I scoop the frosting from the cupcake and smother it on his chest. He raises his eyebrow as I spread the sugary icing on his pecs and down his abs. Then, I push him down on the mattress and lean over him, running my tongue on his chest.
"You like chaos," he says, folding his arm under his head.
"I am chaos." I rub the crumbles on his chest like I'm giving him an exfoliating massage. My gaze locks with his, and I feel the air disappear from the room. He's looking at me intently, almost sternly, like he’s wondering how much of a headache this attraction to me is.
He runs his free hand down my body, starting with a squeeze of my breasts, touching me with intense precision as if he wants to ensure every body part is accounted for. His hand on me turns me on regardless of his intent, and I sway my hips on top of him, fidgeting, the pulse between my legs picking up speed.
When he reaches the region of my lower abdomen, he traces his finger over the outline of my vertical scar. It could have been more discreet or smaller had Ciro taken me to a real hospital instead of the cheap rundown clinic of someone he knew.
"Are you second-guessing my birthday gift?" I ask, betrayed by the wavering in my voice.
"No," he answers, his finger still on my scar. "Just wondering how come it gets to be your gift when I'm the lucky one."
His words loosen a knot inside me, and an overwhelming sensation of warmth and bright energy fills my chest.
"Such beautiful, sexy chaos," he says, the growl in his voice sending thrills down my spine.
I bite back a smile.
He doesn't know what I've done. I don't know the awful things he's done. Yet we both know chaos. We're both chaos. That thought destroys any lingering insecurity, and I position his cock inside me.
I moan, a surge of adrenaline zapping through me the moment I start moving on his cock, my inner walls clamping him, our connection airtight. Awareness stabs at me, along with a twinge of pain. He sits deep inside me, and every small movement I make stokes the fire of anticipation brewing within.
He lowers his hand from my belly to my pussy, and swipes his thumb over my clit. Jolts of excitement flit through me, amplifying my need for release.
A blurred image of violence flashes in my brain, but before it can take shape, Ciro's voice echoes in my ears. I shake my head. Enough.
"Dante," I say, looking into his eyes. Making sure I'm in the moment. This is Dante. Dante Gallo. Not anyone else. "I'm so close."
"That's it, baby girl. That's it," he says, flicking his thumb on my clit, coaxing me to slip over the edge and come for him.
With his other hand, he scoops some of the cupcake mess from his chest and spreads it on my chest, his fingers stroking my skin, which sizzles under his touch. I curl my hips, moving more aggressively on top of him, desperately chasing pleasure. He presses his hand on the small of my back, coaxing me to lean lower, and catches one of my breasts in his mouth.
I let out a strangled moan, a sound so free and trapped at the same time. Zings of electricity form in my belly as he laps his tongue over my sensitive nipple while still teasing my clit with his thumb.
I can't.
I want to talk dirty; I want him to, but it's too much.
Too. Much.
The buzz in my ears escalates with each thrust, beads of sweat sliding down my arms and legs. He doesn't let up, and soon, my body contracts into a tight shell as I cream all over his hard cock, my thighs trembling like the rest of me.
He grazes his teeth over my nipple, and that pinch of pain shoots an intense pounding through my bloodstream. I groan, roar, and let out sounds I don’t recognize. I jerk on top of him, my body as desperate to release the rest of the orgasm as I am to sustain it. Bottle it.
Fireworks shoot from the corner of my eyes, dotting my vision, and I close them, over-stimulated. As I open them, I'm still quivering, and he's now lazily licking my other breast. I feel weak, spent, and blissfully fulfilled.
Literally.
He's still rock-hard inside me, and I know he needs to come. I motion to move, but he outsmarts me and hoists himself to a sitting position, taking me with him so I still straddle him.
I look at him, feeling more naked, more exposed than ever before, my breath still labored.
Can he see the truth in my face?
Can he know just by looking at me that this is the best orgasm I've ever had?
He touches my chin, making me look at him, and my stomach sinks. Damn it. Of course, he knows. In a weird way, it feels like he knows everything about me. All that matters—even if I'm wrong.
My brain is still too foggy to elaborate further. He palms my lower back and thrusts his dick deep into me. Even though I’m wet, his cock slamming into me creates a searing ache. He's big and wonderful. And in this fleeting moment, he's mine.
He fucks me hard until he growls and releases his load inside me.
We both fall on the bed belly first, exhausted, naked, and lying next to each other. He wipes a damp strand of hair from my face and sticks it behind my ear.
"You okay?" he whispers.
I nod instantly.
Am I okay? I shift in the bed. Having sex with him twice now has unlocked a world I never knew existed. I want to be strong and say I can live without it, without his touch, without him—because I'll have to. I'll have to leave as planned.
I glance at him. Am I okay? I'm far from okay, but there's nothing I can do about it.