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She lowers without another word, pushing her wedding dress back over her hips to bare herself.
My tongue massages her clit as my hands clamp roughly on her thighs. Her hips move in circles, grinding against my face.
Fuck. I need to see her tits. I need every inch of her skin.
Removing one hand from her thigh, I reach into my pocket and pull out my pocket knife. Flicking the blade out at my side, she doesn’t hear the softwhoosh, too consumed with her race to climax.
Gripping the dress at her ample cleavage, I pierce a hole in the delicate fabric and slice through it with ease, exposing her chest. Her tits bounce out, and I moan her name.
“What?” she breathes, but with both hands on the severed material, I tear the rest of it open—the scraps of silk and lace drape over her shoulder and bunch at her waist.
I suck her clit, and she rolls her hips faster, fury and lust burning in her eyes.
Knife still in my hand, the cool metal touches her skin, and she gasps, eyes falling to the weapon.
Her gaze widens.
She pauses.
The blade used to gut and slit the throat of the men who attacked her was used to desecrate her wedding dress.
I ready myself for her rage. I prepare myself for her to take the knife and plunge it into my eye. But hands grabbing her tits and her fingers pinching her nipples, she moves again, a single roll of her hips, and she comes violently against my mouth.
“Holy shit.”
While her body is languid and unsteady, I take advantage. Hands to her thighs, I flip her to her back in one swift motion. She yelps in surprise, and I use the time to kiss my way up the supple line of her stomach, flicking my tongue over the tight peaks of her nipples before crashing my lips against hers.
She moans into the kiss, but I pull back before she can lose herself in it. Her hazel eyes stare up at me in wonder, and I wish I could capture the look in her sultry gaze. Her world is centered around me, sight zoned in on the only thing she cares to see.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sia.”
She blinks, a touch of pink touching the balls of her cheeks.
“The fact that I’m the only man to have ever seen how stunning you are when you come makes me foolishly smug. If the world knew what I do, men would lay down their lives for a simple taste.”
She rolls her eyes, but I grab her jaw.
“I’d kill them before they got the chance. I’d gut them and smile, knowing they’d never experience heaven like I have.”
“Diego,” she whispers.
“Stand up,” I tell her, doing the same.
I help her stand, tucking a stray auburn lock of hair behind her ear. The final scraps of her dress fall to the floor, and she kicks it away.
“Lie on the bed,tesoruccio.”
Divesting myself of my plain black shirt and dark wash jeans, I watch as she sits on the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving me. She uses her arms to shift herself backward. Her gaze roams over my naked chest, tongue coming out to wet her lips as her eyes fall on the bulge pushing at the confines of my boxers. Sliding them from my body, I stand before her naked, and her eyes close tenderly in appreciation. When she opens them again, they’re deep with the desires of a woman craving intimacy and connection. They plead for the intoxication of pleasure. They beg for her body to be ravaged and her mind to be silenced.
I grab the cross at my neck, needing something to center me before I touch her. Before I’m tempted to pin her down and claim the purity of her body in the brutal dominance of possession.
“Diego,” she whispers. “Please.”
“Sia,” I warn, stepping closer, my knees hitting the edge of the bed. “You can’t beg me like that. Not this time. I’m barely hanging on to my control.”
“I don’t want you to be in control.”
My eyes close, and I crack my neck from side to side. “Trust me,tesoruccio. Just this once, I need restraint. I won’t make that mistake a second time.”
