Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He grunted, breaths quickening along with my own as I did what he said. I was so close, teetering on the ledge he left me clinging to last night. Only now it felt so much higher, like the fall would be endless. But now I was in control, or so I thought.
“Slide two fingers into that pussy, piccola.”
I did, and the orgasm I was teetering on withdrew, but it was replaced with a different kind of pleasure, a burn and stretch that made me crave the rough thickness of the fingers he’d fucked me with last night.
“Good girl. Feel how wet and tight you are for me. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I fuck you.” His voice stroked over my senses, painting a filthy picture in my mind.
I swiped the glass once more and stared at him, stroking his cock, imagining what it would feel like to have him inside me.
“Now press your thumb over your clit. Just like I would if I were touching you right now.”
I did, and a moan fell from my lips. I’d made myself come before, but this was different. The sight of Gio frantically stroking his dick had me hurtling toward something monumental.
“Emila,” he growled my name. “Come for me.”
And I did, my entire body detonating as I watched him snarl and jerk, shooting come over his hand and stomach. Giovanni Guerra losing control over me was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and it made me feel empowered in a way I never had before.
A heady kind of pleasure tore through me, stealing every bit of strength from my limbs. He wasn’t touching me, but he might as well have been because with that orgasm, it felt like he was rearranging all my pieces into something I no longer recognized.
I staggered back against the shower wall, gasping for breath. Gio’s gaze met mine through the half blurry swipe I’d left on the glass, and I suddenly felt like an exposed nerve. Hot then cold and feeling every single thing. When he opened the door and stepped inside, I froze.
I was caught between secretly wanting more yet terrified of him and everything he represented. I was so scared of letting go and losing even more of the control he stripped me of so easily. Control that I had surrendered to him the second I had lowered the zipper on that dress.
Gio made no move to touch me, simply stepped under the spray and washed the come from his stomach. I remained against the wall, a silent voyeur to his casual calm. I couldn’t even find it in me to be ashamed of my nakedness, of what we had just done, because he was so blatantly unashamed.
Water poured over his golden skin, tattoos warping and dancing in the flow, muscles popping and rolling with each subtle movement. God, he was like art.
At some point, he’d removed the dressing on his ribs, the neat stitches bisecting the image of a lion on his skin. In a messed up way, I wanted to scar him because he’d already scarred me, physically and emotionally.
“You’re bleeding.”
I snapped out of my staring and followed his gaze to my feet, where the water was tinged pink. I must have cut my foot on the smashed lamp. “I’m fine.”
He got out without a word while I lingered beneath the spray, trying to put myself back together. By the time I stepped out of the stall, I had expected Gio to be long gone. Instead, he was there, offering me a towel. I took it and wrapped myself up as though it could shield me from him. From this. But I couldn’t stop staring at his bare chest or tracing that drop of water that trickled all the way over every damn ab before meeting the towel at his waist.
“If you’re done looking at me like dessert…”
My face went up in flames, and laughter rang around the room as he grabbed my waist and placed me on the vanity like a child.
“What are you—”
He took a first aid kit from the cabinet and dropped to one knee, placing my foot on his thigh. The pristine white of his towel was instantly tainted with a slash of crimson.
“Gio, I’m fine.” Embarrassment finally wormed its way through whatever haze he’d put me in. For last night, and my temper tantrum this morning, for what just happened in the shower, and the way he was taking care of me now—I didn’t know how to deal with any of it. I just needed him to leave me alone to process it all and reconstruct the walls he’d torn down so easily. “I can take care of myself.”
Long fingers clamped around my ankle when I tried to pull away. “For once in your life, Emilia, just stop fighting.”