Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 192

Gianna's POV

Dante reached down and pulled his shirt over his head swiftly.

His torso was all lean muscle and defined lines, the kind of body that looked like it had been carved from marble.

His abs flexed as he settled back against the headboard, arms folding behind his head.

A cocky grin spread across his face, the kind that both infuriated and thrilled me.

He looked like a king waiting to be serviced, completely at ease while I was falling apart.

"Well?" His voice was smooth, taunting. "I'm waiting."

Heat flooded my face, spreading down my neck and chest. "This is..."

"What? Too much?" He tilted his head, eyes glinting with challenge. "You came in here dressed like temptation itself, swaying your hips, pushing your tits in my face, grinding that perfect ass against my cock. Now you're shy?"

"You're making fun of me."

"I'm not." His expression softened slightly, but the heat in his eyes remained. "I'm trying to teach you how to take what you want. Stop waiting for permission."

My throat tightened. This was not how it was meant to go. I was supposed to seduce him, and he was supposed to give in. Not him flipping it on me, leaving me exposed.

"Fine. I'll just go to sleep."

I started to turn away, but Dante's hand shot out, wrapping around my waist. He pulled me back against him with effortless strength, and suddenly my back was pressed against his chest, his cock hard and thick against my ass.

Oh.

"Not so fast." His breath was hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You started this."

The sensation of him pressed against me, thick and hard even through his pants, sent electricity through my entire body.

He was fully aroused now, and I could feel every rigid inch of him. The knowledge made me ache.

"Dante..." My voice came out breathy.

He traced the line of my ribs with his fingertips, barely brushing my skin, making goosebumps erupt everywhere he touched.

What is he doing?

"You're thinking too much," he murmured against my ear. "I can feel it."

His hand moved higher, grazing over the underside of my breast.

My breath hitched. My nipples were already hard and aching, and when his thumb brushed just barely over one peaked nipple through the thin lace, I could not stop the whimper that escaped.

"Dante..."

"Shh." His other hand slid down, fingers splaying across my stomach, rubbing slow circles that made my muscles tremble. "Just feel."

His hand on my stomach moved lower, tracing the line where the lingerie met my hip bone. His fingers were so close to where I needed him, but not moving further.

I squirmed against him, and his cock twitched against my ass in response.

"Stay still," he commanded softly.

He brushed my nipple again, firmer this time, and I arched into his fingers. The touch was teasing and designed to make me forget what I was supposed to be doing, to make me forget everything except the feel of his hands on my body.

"You're not playing fair," I breathed, my head falling back against his shoulder.

"Fair?" His laugh was dark and amused. "Baby, you walked in here dressed like every fantasy I have ever had and rubbed this perfect ass all over my cock. And I'm not playing fair?"

"This isn't..." I tried to gather my thoughts, but his hand slid in between my thighs. "You're trying to seduce me. You're supposed to be the one..."

"The one what?" His fingers dipped just beneath the lace. "Begging? Is that what you want, Gianna? You want me to beg?"

Yes. No. I don't know.

Frustration and want fought inside me. He was making this harder on purpose. That smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Fine. Two could play this game.

I rolled my hips intentionally, grinding my ass back against his cock, and he groaned.

"Careful."

I did it again, slower this time, circling my hips in a way that dragged my ass over every inch of him. His hand tightened on my thigh, fingers digging in.

"Gianna." It was barely a word, more like a growl.

Power surged through me. Finally I was affecting him.

"What's wrong?" I kept my voice innocent and breathless. "I thought you wanted me to take what I want."

"You're playing with fire."

"Maybe I like the heat."

I rocked against him again, and his other hand shot to my hip, gripping hard enough to bruise.

"Stop."

"Why?" I was getting bolder now, emboldened by his reaction. "Does it bother you?"

"If you don't stop," his voice dropped to a warning note, "I'm going to take your virginity from behind. And I won't stop until you're screaming my name."

The image he painted, rough and primal, was exactly what some dark part of me craved. It left me dizzy with want.

"Maybe that's what I want," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Maybe that's what tonight has been about."

I felt him tense behind me, every muscle going rigid.

But then he spoke again, and his words cut through my haze.

My fingers brushed over my breast, and I bit back a gasp at how sensitive my nipple was.

I teased it gently, rolling it between my fingers the way Dante had done.

The sensation went straight between my legs.

I slid my hand lower, over my stomach, down to where I ached the most.

I dragged my fingers along my slit, coating them in my arousal.

When I found my clit, the first touch sent a jolt through me. My hips jerked involuntarily.

I started slow, small circles. Each stroke sent heat spreading through my body. My thighs tensed.

My breathing grew ragged. I could hear how wet I was, each touch making obscene sounds in the quiet room.

I dragged my fingers down along my slit again, gathering more wetness, teasing my entrance.

I was drenched, my arousal dripping onto my fingers.

The ache inside me was unbearable.

I circled back up to my clit and the pleasure spiked.

My toes curled and my free hand gripped the sheets.

I rubbed faster, the pressure building low in my belly.

It was dirty doing this next to him, using my own fingers while he slept.

I dragged my fingers back down, circling my entrance, my heat clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.

I just barely dipped one finger inside when...

"Fuck, Gianna."

Mortification rushed through me. My fingers stilled.

"You think I'm asleep?" His voice was thick with strain.

"Nothing," I whispered, though it was not true.

"Nothing." He let out a harsh breath that sounded almost painful. "Are you touching yourself? Next to me?"

"I... maybe." My face burned hotter. "What am I supposed to do when you wouldn't touch me?"

"Fuck." The word was almost a groan, raw and desperate. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you? And now you're lying here, playing with your cunt, and expecting me to just ignore it?"

"I didn't..."

"Your hand, Gianna." His voice dropped lower, darker. "Touching yourself right next to me. It's nearly impossible for even a saint to resist. And I'm no saint."