Page 99 of Devil's Vows
“I’m fine. Just nervous,” I murmur, but I doubt he hears me over the droning of the rotors.
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, turning my wrist to quiet my wild pulse with tender kisses, morphing my anxiety into desire that wets my lace thong, another novelty that has me feeling out of my skin.
The flight is so short, but by the time we land, I’m pulp and he can do with me what he pleases. I’m married now, with no moral or religious barrier to stop me from caving in to every desire. And here is something I didn’t anticipate: I need him. His arms, his comfort, his touch to stabilize my inner worldwhich has been shaken with one quake after the other, reeling from the aftershocks of Randazzo’s death. For all that the world is falling apart, Ivan has become the steel structure that keeps standing no matter what.
We wait for the rotors to stop, and then the co-pilot opens the door for us. Ivan helps me out, then the girls follow one by one as he lets them jump into his arms. He gives Yuri a nod that communicates everything. The girls are his charges now, until further notice.
I have no clue where Ivan is going to take me for our first night together. A hotel away from this place would have been nice, but given the blow-out on my horizon, doing this at home is definitely better.
There’s nothing stopping me now from hurtling to my destiny. I’ll be forced to finally talk about my past, abouthim. If I’m lucky, Ivan will still make love to me like I’ve been secretly craving for days now, but I doubt we’re going to get that far.
50
GABI
Ivan doesn’t let go of my hand as he guides me into the house, up the stairs and to my room.
I don’t know who has been here, but it’s been cleaned in our absence, with fresh linen on the bed and vacuum lines on the carpet.
“Who was in here?” I ask, my gaze jumping to the nightstand where my book and Bible should be, heart in my throat.
They’re still there, and I huff in relief at seeing them, maybe dusted, but exactly where I left them. Everything else, from the bridal magazines to the hairbrushes and discarded clothes, are neatly packed away on the dresser.
“Just Kostya, a man of many talents,” Ivan says as he closes the door and tugs at his tie. “Now, Gabriella Petrova, let me look at you.”
He homes in on me, his gaze soft but his intentions clear as he tosses his tie onto the chair and toes off his shoes. There’s no backing out now, and I stand still, glowing under the slow sweep of his gaze.
He takes his time, touching me with his heated gaze, from my lips to my chest, lower, to where my nipples harden againstthe wedding gown’s thick silk, then to my hips, igniting me. I shift on my feet, because his inspection is a slow seduction spreading fire in my blood, begging for his touch.
He reaches for my hands, and his warm fingers gently hold my quivering ones.
“I’ll go slow.We’llgo slow, because I want your first time to be perfect.”
Now I want to cry, because his murmured words promise to wipe all my horrid memories of the time in Mancuso’s cellar from my mind and replace them with memories of us, of him, and of his love.
“Just touch me already,” I beg, closing the gap between us, my breasts pressing against his chest. Take me somewhere where I don’t think about the past, worry about the future, and fret about the present and Chiara’s life all the time. I want to beg for his help, because he might have connections who can help find her.
Be in the moment, cara. I’d hate for you to fuck this up because you’re worried about me.
For the first time in days, her voice booms in my head, crystal clear. I rake in a sharp breath. Chiara. She’s alive…maybe not well, but she’s?—
“Sshhh,moya ptichka,” he hushes, his lips on my temple as he gathers me close, his hands on my hips. “We have all the time in the world tonight,” he whispers as his lips slide down the shell of my ear, a hand coming up to cup my breast. “I don’t want to rush. Everything has been so crazy these past months, this past year, let me honor the gift you are by giving you the time you deserve.”
At these words, I want to shrink away, my throat filling with pebbles, heavy with the pressure of my deceit. But this man, his gentle patience, how he honored my purity because that’s what I’m supposed to want, is enough to make me fall for him completely. To shatter in love. So instead of pulling away, I clingto him as his thumb brushes over my nipple, as he kisses his way down my neck, sending ripples of desire to my sex.
“Ivan,” I beg, just wanting to get everything off my chest already and deal with the fallout.
“Feel that?” he grunts as he rolls his hips into me, the hard ridge of his cock hitting my mound through all the layers of fabric between us, the connection a perfect tease of what’s to come, each slow, deliberate thrust an exquisite little jolt to my clit. “This is what we’re dealing with, and it’s fucking needy. I don’t want to hurt you.”
All I want is to whisperagainandmore, but his lips cover mine, quieting me as his hand slides down the valley of my breasts. He gathers me flush with his straining erection, holding still now, pressing pause on the quick build-up in my body. Not a single part of me wants to stop. Ever since I’ve felt what Ivan can do to me, my mind has been churning with lust in the background. I ride up against his body, seeking the friction he’s depriving me of in this moment. It’s maddening.
“Don’t tempt me,moya ptichka,” he whispers, “to fuck you like you’ll still beg me to fuck you in future. There’s time for all of that, and we’ll get there soon enough.”
At his words, the visuals of everything he could do to me erupt like fireworks, and I know even if Ivan does take it slow, he won’t hold back. Within a week of being in this man’s bed, I’ll have experienced every physical pleasure, at last liberated.
I want to cave in, swept away in this fantasy of him actually doing what he promises me, and fuck me, take me, make me his because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I splay my hands over his chest, hesitant at first to touch him like this, but I’m married now and something has shifted. My fingers might be trembling, but his moans against my lips as I explore his pecs, the ridges of his collarbones, the muscles straining in his neck are fuel to my fire.Moreandagainare silent echoes in the room as he kisses me deeper and I ridemy hands over his shoulders and help him shrug off his jacket.
His fingers rake into my hair, pulling my head back, exposing my chest as he peels the dress’s shoulder away, revealing my nipple. With a groan, he leans in, licks and sucks as I grip his shoulders for balance, because the heat that sweeps through my body, drenching my thong even more, is an unstoppable wave that will make me crest if he carries on like this.
