Page 123 of Auctioned Innocence
Oh, I know. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s rushing to his orgasm. I feel it, and I’m ready for it. He tries to pull away. It’s only instinct, but I hold him, gripping his shaking hips tight, sucking as vigorously and rapidly as I can.
He’s not going anywhere.
He lets out a guttural yell. “Sofia! I’m—” The tension breaks and his violently intense orgasm hits full force.
Afterward, something changes in his eyes. The frenzied desperation gives way to something deeper, more tender. He cups my face in his hands, studying me like I’m something precious.
When he enters me this time, it’s with a reverence that makes tears spring to my eyes. Every movement is deliberate, worshipful, like he’s trying to heal me from the inside out. His hands map my body with tender touches, fingertips trailing down my sides, across my ribs, memorizing every curve.
“You are not broken,” he whispers against my ear as he moves inside me with exquisite care, every thrust slow and deep and perfect. “You are not naive. You are not weak.”
“Then what am I?” My voice is barely a breath, lost in the gentle rhythm of our bodies moving together.
“Mine,” he says simply, and the word settles into my bones like a benediction. His forehead rests against mine, our breathing synchronized, hearts beating in perfect time. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing Lorenzo did can change that.”
This climax builds slowly, wave after wave of sensation washing over me—not the desperate release of before, but something deeper, healing. It starts as warmth in my core and spreads outward until every nerve ending sings with pleasure and love and the absolute certainty that I am cherished.
When it’s over, I curl against his chest on the thin mattress, our skin still damp with sweat, tracing the fresh scratches on his shoulders that match the ones on my heart. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and for the first time since learning about Lorenzo’s betrayal, I feel whole.
“I’m not that innocent girl anymore,” I say quietly. “The one Lorenzo helped raise. The one who believed family was sacred.”
“No.” Dante’s fingers trail down my spine. “You’re stronger. Fiercer. More beautiful for having survived his betrayal.”
I think about the girl I was just weeks ago. About everything that’s changed. About Lorenzo’s betrayal burning away the last of my naive trust.
“We end this,” I say finally. “But we do it my way.”
Dante props himself up on an elbow. “What are you thinking?”
“Lorenzo wants power? Control?” I reach for the laptop Mario left with the other supplies, my mind already spinning with possibilities. “Let’s give him exactly what he wants.”
Understanding dawns in Dante’s eyes as I outline my plan. It’s dangerous. Possibly suicidal.
But it will work.
25
DANTE
“It’s too risky.” I pace the warehouse, trying not to look at Sofia as she outlines her plan. We’ve been at this for hours now—after we finally pulled ourselves from the mattress, got dressed, and shifted into mission mode. The late afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows, casting long shadows across the concrete floor where we’ve spread out building schematics and security protocols.
The air smells of motor oil and rust, with an underlying dampness that speaks of too many years without proper maintenance. “Using you as bait?—”
“Is the only way to draw Lorenzo out.” She doesn’t move from her position at the makeshift table—an old workbench we’ve covered with Mario’s intelligence files. Her voice carries clearly in the cavernous space, bouncing slightly off the metal walls. “He wants me. Has always wanted to control me. We use that.”
“There has to be another way,” I insist.
“There isn’t.” She stands, that familiar stubborn set to her jaw. “You know I’m right. Lorenzo won’t show his hand unless he thinks he has me cornered.”
I do know she’s right. That’s what terrifies me.
“Dante.” She steps into my path, forcing me to stop. “This isn’t like before. I’m not some helpless target anymore.”
“You were never helpless.” My hands find her waist automatically. “But Lorenzo knows you. He knows how to hurt you.”
“Yes.” Her smile is dangerous. “But he doesn’t know this version of me. The one you helped create.”
Before I can respond, my phone rings. It’s an unknown number, but I instantly recognize the serious greeting on the other side.
