Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 218

Gianna's POV

Dante stood at the edge of the bed, towering over me, his presence filling the entire room. The dim light cast a beautiful glow across his face, making him look even more commanding, more ruthless.

His grey eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

"Pretty doll, it's my turn to strip," he said, his voice low and rough. "While you watch."

My heart hammered in my chest as he reached for the top button of his shirt.

One by one, he undid each button with maddening slowness. His fingers worked down the line, revealing more skin with each flick. The fabric parted, exposing the hard planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Scars marked his skin, telling stories of violence and survival, but they only made him more beautiful to me.

My eyes dragged over every inch of exposed skin, drinking him in.

He was magnificent. All hard muscle and raw masculine power.

His hands moved to his belt, and I heard the metallic clink as he unbuckled it. He unzipped his pants slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Still want this, pretty doll?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Yes," I breathed, unable to look away.

He pushed his pants down his hips, letting them fall to the floor. The bulge in his briefs was obscene, straining against the fabric.

My mouth went dry.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Biting that pretty lip. Once upon a time, you looked at me with fear. Now you're practically drooling."

I was biting my lip, hard. I hadn't even realized.

Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled his briefs down.

His cock sprang free, and I couldn't suppress my gasp.

He was massive.

Long, thick, with a slight upward curve that made my inner walls clench just looking at it. The head was flushed dark with arousal, and I could see a bead of moisture at the tip.

I stared at it, paralyzed. He looked like he would tear me open, split me in half. The sheer size of him seemed impossible.

"Scared?" Dante asked, wrapping his hand around his cock. He stroked himself slowly, base to tip, and I watched transfixed as he grew impossibly harder under his own touch. "You look like you might be having second thoughts."

I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat. My eyes were glued to the movement of his hand, the way his cock seemed to pulse with each stroke.

"No?" He took a step toward the bed, still stroking himself with lazy confidence. "Remember when you first saw my cock? You called it a monster. Said it would never fit."

Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory.

"And now look at you." He climbed onto the bed, his movements slow and predatory, one hand still wrapped around his cock. "Eyes full of need. Legs spread. Pussy dripping. What changed, pretty doll?"

"That was before," I managed, my voice husky.

"Before what?" He knelt between my legs, bringing his cock close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from it. He stroked himself again, the head brushing against my inner thigh.

"Before you touched me." I reached up, running my hands over his chest. "Before you showed me pleasure with your wicked punishments and filthy lips."

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, sliding his cock through my folds. "I can feel you dripping for me."

He continued to tease me, rubbing his cock against my clit, then down to my entrance, but never pushing inside. The friction was maddening, building the pleasure again but not giving me what I needed.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me already," I demanded, rolling my hips to try to take him inside.

"Gianna, if you keep..." His words died off as I rolled my hips harder, and the head of his cock slipped inside me slightly.

We both groaned.

"Gianna, if you keep moving like that, I can't promise to be gen..."

Memories of our first time together flashed back. The night when everything between us had been different, when I'd been afraid and hated his guts.

He'd said I would beg for his cock before it went inside me. And here I was, shameless and begging just like he'd predicted.

The memory of his arrogant certainty, the way he'd known even then that I would want him like this, sent a thrill through me.

He'd been right about everything.

"Dear husband, don't you realize," I interrupted, desperation clear in my voice, "how badly I'm aching."

I saw the moment his control snapped. His eyes went wild, and then he slammed into me in one brutal thrust.

The pain ripped through me like fire.

I screamed, my nails tearing into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. It felt like I was being split in two, the burning sensation overwhelming every nerve ending in my body.