Page 107 of Auctioned Innocence
Dante slowly pulls my shirt over my head, his movements and looks reverent as he gazes upon my bare skin. My skin heats—I’ve never been with anyone before. Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss my neck. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against my throat. “So perfect. I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.” I thread my fingers through his silky soft hair. “You deserve everything good in this world.”
His groan vibrates against my skin, and I feel powerful and vulnerable all at once. I pull his head back so I can see his face for the next thing I want to say. My heart hammers.
“Make love to me, Dante. Make me yours.”
Dante stills as he stares at me. Time seems to stand still, and I can’t help but notice just how impossibly handsome he is in the low light of the bedroom. Everything from the waist up is bare to me. I’m only in a bra and my leggings leave little to the imagination.
But after what I just said, we might as well already be naked.
I just asked him to make love to me. It’s a vulnerable moment for me as Dante is the first—theonly—person I want to be with. I’m ready and I know he’s ready, and I also know, deep inside, that if he is okay with this, that it will be the first of many nights like this, tangled up together and basking in the glow of intimacy.
If we survive this first.
Dante draws in a shaky breath and runs his fingers through my loose hair once, twice, before speaking. “I’ll give you everything, Sofia. Anything. How do you want it?” He drags his hands down my neck, my breasts, my stomach, leaving fire in his wake.
I consider his question as I lean in and press my mouth to his, licking softly at the seam of his lips until he opens them for me. “I want you to give me everything.”
He moans and I catch it with my lips, devouring the sound and heat. Our tongues mingle and I revel in the now-familiar taste of him—darkness and promises and the faint hint of mint. Dante does as I ask and shifts our bodies so I’m on my back. We melt into each other, surrendering with every hitched breath, every shudder, every kiss.
My breasts are heavy and sensitive with need when Dante finally shimmies down my body to remove my bra and lick and suck at my nipples. I shift my legs restlessly as he brings his thumb to brush against the pebbled peaks. Every touch stokes the heat building in my core, and Dante takes his time, lavishing each breast with attention.
“Please,” I whimper, tugging at the band of my leggings.
Dante chuckles into my skin. “I’ll take care of you,” he reassures me, his voice ragged with desire. He gently bats away my hand, replacing it with his own. He slides his hand into my leggings, under my panties, and cups me.
When he touches me—reallytouches me—I understand why people write poetry about this. Every nerve ending comes alive under his hands, and when I gasp his name, he looks at me like I’ve given him salvation.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against my skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”
Instead, I tilt my hips up, wanting more—needingmore.
That is all the encouragement Dante needs. Parting my legs, he dips a finger into my center and groans. “Fuck, Sofia, do you have any idea how wet you are?”
I throw my head back against the pillow, a moan escaping my mouth. “More.”
He adds another finger, curling them both against my front walls. My hips jerk and I clutch onto the sheets on the bed. This feels sofucking good.
I must have said that out loud because Dante chuckles. “This will also make you feel so fucking good,” he says before he bends his head and sucks my nipples, rolling them with his tongue.
It’s too much. It’s all too wonderfullymuchand my hips move without abandon, wildly moving against his hand as I thrash on the bed.
“That’s it,principessa,” Dante croons. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
Like a tether, I snap and I’m free-falling, the first wave of it akin to a sudden drop in turbulent air and then resonant waves of pulsing, throbbing release. I am only half-aware of the staccato sounds I’m making, whimpery little gasps that somehow only add to my pleasure.
When I finally come back to reality, I’m panting and Dante kisses me until I’m limp in his arms. Slowly, carefully, he removes his slick-coated fingers then brings them to his mouth where he cleans them in one expert swipe of his tongue.
Goddamn. That’shot. I’m transfixed.
Dante takes advantage of my daze and strips me of my leggings and underwear, baring me entirely to him for the first time. He sits back on his knees, his gaze hungry as he takes me in, raw desire personified.
“You’re beautiful,” he says again. “Breathtaking.”
I can’t stand that he’s not touching me for another second. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him down to me, charting a path with my mouth across his scarred chest, up his neck, and finally to his lips. He kisses me back longingly, busying his hands while removing his pants and boxers.
