Page 113 of Vow Of Fire

Heat rushed through me at the rough sincerity in his voice. I could tell that he meant it.

“My Ophelia,” he murmured, sliding his hands up my thighs until they reached the apex. Then he parted me slowly and lowered his mouth to me.

I cried out the instant his tongue touched me.

He tasted me deeply, making a low sound of approval that sent another violent tremor through my body. I was already raw with need, already aching for him, and the slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue nearly shattered what little composure I had left.

“Dante… oh God…” I moaned, grasping his head and holding him close.

He groaned against me, and the vibration tipped me even closer to the edge. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core until every nerve ending felt stretched taut.

Then he found my needy clit and the slow pull of his mouth sent pleasure crashing through me so hard my back arched off the bed. I cried out, my whole body shaking as wave after wave broke over me, hot and overwhelming.

Dante held me in place, gripping my hips firmly while he drew out every last shuddering pulse of pleasure until I collapsed back against the sheets, breathless and trembling.

Only then did he lift his head.

He crawled up my body, a smug look on his devastatingly handsome face.

“I’ll never get tired of watching you fall apart for me,” he murmured, settling over me.

Despite my nakedness, he was still fully dressed. Still trembling, I reached for him and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Impatient, he tore it open himself and shrugged it off, tossing the ruined fabric aside without a second thought.

My eyes raked over the hard planes of his chest, the powerful lines of his shoulders and stomach. Every inch of him looked built for sin.

I reached lower, undoing his pants with shaking fingers. The moment I freed him, he groaned softly beneath his breath, the sound rough and male and deeply satisfying.

“You see what you do to me?” he rasped.

Heat rushed through me at the raw hunger in his voice. Wrapping my hand around him, I stroked slowly, fascinated by the way his entire body reacted. His eyes closed briefly and a low growl vibrated through his chest.

God.

Seeing Dante Marcelli lose control was intoxicating.

He leaned over me, large hands spanning my waist before sliding upward to cup my breasts possessively. His touch was firm, almost reverent, and the contrast between his strength and the careful way he handled me made my stomach tighten.

The air between us thickened with heat.

It no longer felt like simple lust. It was deeper than that. More dangerous. Like we were giving each other pieces of ourselves we’d never intended to surrender.

His gaze locked onto mine, dark and consuming.

“I’m going to make love to you now, Ophelia,” he murmured, as he reached over to the nightstand.

I touched his wrist before he could open the drawer. “Don’t.”

He stared at me, eyes narrowing. “You sure?”

“I’m on the pill,” I rasped. I wanted to feel him, all of him. In his naked, unsheathed glory.

For a second he simply stared at me, something unreadable flickering across his face.

I wanted this… wanted him. Inside me. Filling me up like he had before but this time we’d both be naked. I wanted to feel consumed… possessed… anchored by him.

It was a feeling I wasn’t used to. I’d been on my own for so long that the bond I felt when he was inside me, filling me up, was heady and addictive.

Slowly, he pushed inside me, inch by devastating inch.