Page 164 of Ruthless Vow
She moans, hips lifting off the bed.
“Stay still.” I pin her down with one hand flat on her stomach.
Long, drawn-out strokes over her clit. Two fingers sliding inside, curling against the spot that makes her cry out.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur against her. “Already close?”
“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Please don’t stop.”
“I know where.” I press deeper, curl harder. “I’ve memorized every inch of you.”
A tremor runs through her, hips rolling against my hand.
“That’s it. Let me hear you.”
She gives me a sound so raw it makes my cock ache. I seal over her clit and she comes apart, thighs clamping around my head, my name torn from her throat.
I ease my touch as the aftershocks roll through her. Press a kiss to her inner thigh.
“Cristo, you’re beautiful when you let go.”
When I crawl back up her body, she’s already reaching for my belt. Her fingers work the buckle, the button, and when her hand wraps around me I hiss through my teeth.
“Fuck.” My forehead drops against hers. “Your hands on me.”
She strokes once. Twice.
I grab her wrist. Pin it above her head.
“Not yet. I need to be inside you.”
I shed the rest of my clothes and settle between her thighs. My cock presses against her entrance, slick with her arousal. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me in.
“Amore mio.” I sink into her, watching her face. Her lips parting. Her eyes fluttering closed. The flush spreading down her neck to her chest. “You feel so fucking good. So tight. So wet.”
“Dante.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “More. I need all of you.”
“You have all of me.” I bury myself to the hilt. “Every inch. Every goddamn piece.”
I move. Long, deep strokes that wreck us both. Not the desperate fucking of our first weeks. Not the frantic reunion after I came back from the edge. Her body knows mine. My body knows hers. Every roll of her hips meets my thrust. Every breath syncs.
“Look at me.” I stop moving. Buried inside her. Completely still. “Open your eyes.”
She does.
Dark and shining and full of everything I spent a decade telling myself I couldn’t have.
“Dante?”
“I don’t deserve this.” Raw. Ripped from somewhere I keep locked. “I don’t deserve you.”
Her hand finds my face. Thumb tracing the line of my jaw. She doesn’t argue.
“You’re here. That’s enough.”
The last locked thing inside me lets go.
I move again. Harder. Deeper. Like the stillness cost me and I need her body to pay it back.
