Page 83 of Vow Of Fire

“Fuck,” I muttered, closing my eyes. Good didn’t even begin to describe it. Her velvety soft tightness gripped my cock all the way down its length and I felt myself swell, the pressure coiling tight and low. I needed to move, to claim her again, and again.

I withdrew and thrust in again, and this time there was no resistance. Her body was primed and opened for me, accepting me to the hilt. I groaned and repeated the motion. She lifted her hips, meeting my thrusts, until we built up a frantic rhythm.

Deeper and deeper I embedded myself, marveling at the magnificence of her body. How her smooth skin glistened with perspiration, how her full breasts bounced with each forceful thrust, and how she cried out my name as she got close to coming.

She was the most beautiful goddamn thing I’d ever seen.

I buried myself deep, teetering on the edge. I was so fucking close to exploding, but I needed her there with me.

Claiming her mouth again, I plunged and sucked, my elbows braced on the pillow beside her head. The headboard slammed against the wall as she bucked more wildly. Then I felt it, the fluttering of her muscles as her orgasm hit. They locked down around me as she cried out and threw her head back, breaking the kiss.

The spasms triggered my own release, and I tensed as a volcano of heat erupted from my balls. It shot along my shaft and burst free.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I ranted, as I let go, catapulting over the edge with her. I plunged into her shamelessly, while she writhed beneath me. Our bodies were slick with sweat, but we kept going as the waves kept washing over us.

Only when I was totally spent, did I stop pounding into her.

“Jesus Christ, Ophelia,” I gasped, when I finally came back down to earth. I was still sheathed inside her, but I couldn’t move. It was like she’d sapped every last ounce of energy from me.

She gazed up at me with something like awe. I felt like a million bucks, like I was invincible. But I was also fucking terrified, because I knew that once with this woman was never going to be enough.

23

A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

Evelyn

Iwoke up to find Dante asleep beside me, his intricately inked arm draped casually over my waist, his long legs tangled up in the bedsheets. His breathing was even, his toned chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

I studied him for a long moment, admiring his tanned face shadowed by stubble, the faint hollows in his cheeks rising into high cheekbones, and his dark eyelashes. It was unfair how gorgeous he was.

He looked so calm, almost content, the ever-present scowl lines now gone, his forehead smooth and unlined. His muscular body was relaxed—all except one part.

Was that…?

Oh. My. God. It was his morning hard-on digging into my thigh.

After the night we’d had, how on earth could he have an erection?

I was totally exhausted. My body still tingled from all the orgasms he’d given me.

Visions of our nocturnal activities flooded back, and I found myself blushing as I lay there, the morning light forcing its way through the cracks in the blinds.

After that first time, where I’d been desperate to feel him inside of me, to ease the throb of desire that had been building ever since I’d first met him, he’d been less rushed, less frenzied.

Dante Marcelli had surprised me.

Instead of the hard and fast sex I’d expected, he’d been slow, intense, and thorough. Very thorough. He’d made sure I’d come every time as he explored every inch of my body. With his fingers, with his tongue, and finally, again, with his cock. And just like the rest of him, it was devastating.

Thinking about all the wonderful ways he’d pleasured me with it had me overheating again, and that now familiar tight warmth began spreading through my body, settling low between my thighs.

Or maybe it was feeling him poking into me as he murmured something indecipherable in his sleep and threw a heavy leg over mine. Damn. With both his arm and leg pinning me down, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t peel back the covers and sneak out of bed to go take a shower. Couldn’t do anything but feel my body respond to him in a way that I previously wouldn’t have thought possible.

I let out a shaky breath. Yep, I was in way over my head. On all fronts.

The situation with the gallery was a shitshow. I had no idea what to do about the cartel, or Malakov, or the Marcellis for that matter. I didn’t relish the idea of being a laundromat for crime syndicates, but I was smart enough to realize that if I refused to do business with them, the blowback on me and my business would be dire.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.