Page 122 of Made for Sinners

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling around the edge of the counter for balance. “I didn’t mean?—”

He smirked. “You didn’t mean for me to take it literally?” His hands reached the hem of my dress and pushed it higher, bunching the fabric around my hips. “Too late.”

I gasped as his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties and tugged them down slowly, dragging the lace over my thighs, my knees, my calves. He didn’t rush. He didn’t speak. He just watched, his gaze locked on the way the fabric peeled away from my skin, like he was unwrapping something sacred.

When they hit the floor, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee. Then another, higher. Then another.

My breath hitched.

“Dante,” I said again, but it came out more like a plea than a warning.

He didn’t respond.

He just buried his face between my thighs.

I cried out, my back arching as his mouth found me, hot and wet and perfect. His tongue moved with slow precision, licking a long, deliberate stripe up my center before circling my clit with maddening patience.

My hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he groaned against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core.

“Fuck,” I gasped, my thighs trembling as he sucked gently, then harder, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place. “Oh my God?—”

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

He licked and sucked and teased like he was starving, like he’d been thinking about this all day—maybe he had—and now that he had me, he wasn’t going to waste a second.

I was already close, embarrassingly close, my body wound tight from the wine, the adrenaline, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth kneeling for.

“Dante,” I moaned, my voice breaking. “I’m—please?—”

He growled, low and possessive, and slipped two fingers inside me, curling them just right, just deep enough to make me see stars.

I shattered.

My orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over me in a rush of heat and light and sound. I cried out, my body shaking, my thighs clamping around his head as I came, hard and fast and completely undone.

He didn’t stop until I was gasping, twitching, my hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.

Only then did he pull back, his mouth glistening, his eyes heavy with satisfaction.

He stood slowly, towering over me, and leaned in to kiss me—deep and filthy and perfect. I tasted myself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth, my arms wrapping around his neck as he pressed his body against mine.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us panting.

“You taste like sin,” he whispered.

I laughed, breathless and dazed. “You’re insane.”

He smirked. “Only for you.”

I was still trembling, still trying to catch my breath, when he reached down and picked me up off the counter like I weighed nothing.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice still shaky.

“Bed,” he said, his tone final. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And as he carried me down the hall, his arms wrapped around me like armor, I knew he meant it.

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