Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Damiano’s arms tighten more around me, and it makes my stomach flutter.
Suddenly, he yanks away from me. Within a couple of seconds, his hand grips my neck, I’m flat on my back, and once again, I have a gun pressed to my forehead.
Dio.
As I gasp, his eyes focus on my face, then letting go of my neck, he sags back while exhaling a harsh breath.
“Fuck,” he mutters while putting the safety back on his gun. “I’m sorry.”
Lying still, I just stare at him, wondering why he reacted that way.
“This is new to me,” he explains.
“What?” I whisper.
“Waking up next to a woman.” His eyes find mine. “I’m used to sleeping alone.”
My eyebrows fly up. “You’ve never slept next to a woman before?”
He shakes his head, and lying back down, he lets out a deep sigh.
Knowing I’m the first woman to sleep in his bed, a smile spreads over my face.
I turn my head, and when my eyes land on the clock on the bedside table, I notice it’s already past ten in the morning. I dart up off the bed and hurry into Damiano’s closet to grab the first shirt I see.
I hope Martha hasn’t been to my bedroom yet.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I need to get rid of the bedding and clean up the blood,” I say as I drag the shirt over my head.
“I already took care of it,” he mutters.
Surprised out of my mind, I stop to blink at him. “You cleaned my room?”
He nods and pats the space where I slept. “Come back to bed.”
When I crawl onto the mattress, he takes hold of me and settles me against his side.
“I didn’t want anyone to see your virgin blood. It’s for my eyes only,” he explains.
Damn, the man is possessive as hell.
Still, my heart melts.
My body relaxes, and I hesitate before I place my hand on his chest.
My eyes drift over his golden skin, the muscles that look like they’ve been carved into him, and his sheer size.
Everything about him is intimidating and too much.
He’s too aggressive. Too domineering. Too impatient. Too attractive. Too powerful.
The list is endless, but when all is said and done, he’s mine.
“Take off the shirt,” he orders, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I sit up, and even though I feel a little self-conscious, I do as I’m told.
He shifts into a more comfortable position, adding a pillow behind him.
When I drop the shirt onto the covers, his hands grip my hips, and he pulls me over him. I’m forced to straddle Damiano, and the position puts me face-to-face with him.
I feel his hard length near the sensitive valley between my legs.
“Let me look at you,” he murmurs.
His eyes lower to my breasts, and when I feel his cock harden even more beneath me, there’s one hell of a tightening sensation in my abdomen.
Damiano’s hands lift to my chest, and when his palms cover my breasts, a tremble moves through my body.
His eyes flick to my face before he focuses on where his fingers massage my breasts and nipples.
It makes the tightening sensation in my abdomen so much more intense, and needing to touch him, too, I flatten my hand against his abs.
My lips part as my fingertips brush over the hard ridges, and when he leans forward and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, a moan drifts past my lips.
I never knew being intimate with a man would feel so good. I always feared it or, at the very least, worried about having to have sex with the man I was forced to marry.
As Damiano sucks and bites my nipples, alternating between my breasts, I wrap one of my hands behind his neck while my other one grips his bicep.
Before I know what I’m doing, my hips roll, and the needy spot between my legs searches for his cock.
Damiano frees my nipple, and his eyes lock on my face before he asks, “How do you feel?”
Tender, but in desperate need of the pleasure he gave me last night.
Not wanting to lie, I avoid answering his question and say, “I want you.”
His eyes narrow on me. “How do you feel, Gabriella?”
“Just tender,” I mutter, my tone unhappy because the intimate moment is fading at the speed of light.
Frustration pours into my chest.
Damiano tilts his head as the corner of his mouth lifts, and I scowl at the hot grin on his face.
“My woman needs my cock,” he says, his voice filled with satisfaction.
He leans closer, and his lips brush over my jaw. When he reaches my ear, he growls, “Ride my cock, mia regina.”
He grips my hips, and when he shows me how to rub myself against his hard length, a powerful wave of tingles makes my body shudder.
“Christ, is my little spitfire desperate for her orgasm?”
I nod, and tightening my hold on his neck, I slam my mouth to his as my hips begin to gyrate. I rub my pussy desperately against his cock to massage my clit.