Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Dante?” she says.
“I… need… you…”
She bites her lip. “What can I do?”
“Give me your hand.”
She thinks for a moment, then nods, still biting her lip. I move to the end of the bed. She sits up, then takes my dick in her hand. The second her warm palm wraps around my shaft, it’s like I black out, but no, I won’t let that happen. It was stress before. This is like a shot of rocket fuel. Precome is all over her hand as she strokes up and down.
She moans, making eye contact with me. “Yeah?” she says, moving her hand quicker.
“Ah, fuck…”
“Yeah, Dante?”
“You’re mine,” I growl as she moves her hand faster, the head beginning to burn, to swell with my release.
“I’m yours,” she says. “I’m… ooh.”
She makes a gasping noise as I finally let my release go, a shower of come landing on the blankets, a little on her leg, dripping down over her creamy thickness. She keeps pumping until there’s nothing left in me, then sits back, her eyebrows raised.
“I made a weird noise, didn’t I?”
“You were perfect,” I tell her.
“Ooh,” she says, mocking herself.
I pull up my pants, then kneel so we’re at eye level. “You just being you, Mia. That’s enough.”
“Really?” she says, as if it’s a surprise.
“Really,” I say fiercely, hating that she doesn’t know that. “You’re perfect as you are, princess.”
“Princess?” she murmurs.
“I know you think that word defines you in a bad way, but it doesn’t because now you’re my princess.”
She smiles, leaning forward, moving to kiss my lips, then remembers how out of control we can get and kisses my cheek. “I don’t know what that means outside this tower, Prince Charming.” She laughs. “I’m so lame, aren’t I?”
“I’ll take you, lame or not,” I tell her.
“But after tomorrow? Do mafia enforcers ever marry the princesses? If we have to use their terms.”
“Marry,” I repeat.
She pulls away. “No… I didn’t mean… not marry.” She laughs awkwardly, and somehow, unfairly, a hurt note shudders in me. Why is she laughing at the idea of marriage? “I was just talking. You know.”
“Yeah.” I swallow, nodding, pretending I understand, but I don’t know. I have no damn clue how my princess has changed me so fast on some deep level, but no, I have to think. Think like a person, like somebody with a brain in their head. I can’t let feelings dictate me.
“I know,” I tell her. “Shall we do the painting?”
“Uh, sure.” She seems surprised by the abrupt segue, but I can’t think of anything else to say. Married… She and I. Mia and me. It feels so right, but I can’t let it happen. I’m Dante, alone. I’m… It all seems so hollow. I’m what? What the hell am I if I let Mia go one day?
She stands up. “You coming?”
I take her hand and stand up. She looks down at our clasped hands and smiles. “But I should probably…”
She gestures to her leg. It makes me hard again when I see the come sliding down over her smooth skin. I turn away, trying to calm down the beast inside of me.
“Yeah,” I say.
She walks into the en suite. I watch her go, shuddering when her juicy ass sways in the gray underwear. She looks at me over her shoulder. “You’re really wild,” she says.
CHAPTER 15
Mia
Wild. That describes him best and describes us the best. I was shaking all over when he went down on me. I thought I couldn’t, but then he said that stuff about being in the moment, which melted me—melted away the concerns. I didn’t care. I could just be with him, grind against him, float away in the bliss.
It still tickles me now, the afterglow of the pleasure, but when I join Dante in the living room, he’s got that hard look on his face. Not angry, exactly, but not sad either. It’s more like a mask.
I didn’t mean to say anything about a wedding or marriage. I don’t know where that came from.
“For the record,” I tell him. “I’ve always said I don’t want a husband, and I meant it.”
He nods, not looking at me, as he sets out the art supplies on the coffee table. “I’ve always said I don’t want a wife,” he replies, “or any attachments.”
“What does it mean, being yours, then? Aren’t we attached?”
He looks at me sharply. There’s a weird and intense suddenness to the eye contact that sends a shiver right through me. It’s like Dante is seeing me, all the good and bad, and he still wants it. “Do you want us to be?”
“You’re just playing games now.”
“I’m going to protect you,” he says.
“Is that your catch phrase?” I tease.
He laughs, but it’s tight, somehow tense, like part of him wants to snap. “What do you want me to do? Get on one knee now, Mia?”