Chapter 47: You’ll Think Only Of Me.
Gianna’s POV
My lashes fluttered, reluctant, until my gaze locked with his. The warning in his eyes held me there, helpless, as his thumbs hooked under the waistband and pushed the briefs down his hips.
God. I fought hard not to look, to keep my eyes fixed anywhere but there. But I couldn’t. My gaze dropped on its own, sliding down the hard planes of his stomach to where he stood bare before me.
He was naked. Smug. Arrogant. His cock long, thick, veins raised along the shaft. Not quite as hard as the first time I’d seen it, but still heavy, frightening, impossible not to stare at.
Shame swept through me, mixing with an ache so fierce it almost hurt. My thighs pressed together tightly under my dress, a desperate, useless attempt to hold back the wetness slipping between them.
“Tell me the honest truth,” he murmured, stepping closer, voice cruel in its softness. “Do you like what you see?”
“I… I…” My throat closed up. The truth burned inside me. His body was devastating, the kind of male beauty that shattered reason. Okay, you’ve seen it. Look away now, my mind screamed. But I still couldn’t. This wasn’t about his command anymore. It was about the dark part of me he had awakened that now craved him.
I crawled backward on the bed without realizing, but the glint in his eyes told me he was enjoying every second of my humiliation.
My tongue swiped across my lower lip before I could stop it. My head nodded without permission.
“Use your words.”
“I…” Shame washed over me, but the words fell anyway. “I do.”
“You do what?” His voice was filled with amusement and power.
“I… love what I see…”
The second it slipped out, I wanted to snatch it back. God, why did I say love? Of all the words, why not like? I could have said like. Like would have been safe. Not this word that sounded needy, messy. Get it together, Gianna. This isn’t you. Don’t sound desperate.
The sound he made in response was low, satisfied. “Fuck, pretty doll… when you say it like that…”
Before I could retreat further, his hands gripped my calves and dragged me forward until I was perched at the edge of the bed.
His mouth was close enough for me to feel his breath when he murmured, “I want to do more. Naughty things to you…”
My chest heaved, and suddenly his cock was right there, inches from my mouth. I watched it swell harder, veins thick, pulsing bold. My whole body vibrated with an itchy, forbidden urge to touch him, to reach for him, feel his weight in my hands, but I gripped the sheets instead, fingers fisting to keep still.
His thumb brushed over my lips, slow, testing, like he wanted to see how easy it would be to shove his cock
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between them. “Now it’s your turn. Strip. Take off your dress.”
Fear tore through me, tangled with need. “I…”
“You simply obey.”
His words rooted me to the spot. I rose on trembling legs, feeling shy and burning with need all at once under his hungry gaze. My fingers found the straps of my dress and tugged them down, sliding them off my shoulders. The fabric clung stubbornly at my hips. I wiggled side to side until it pooled at my feet.
I stood in just my bra and panties, skin alive, goosebumps racing over me.
“Take it all off,” he commanded, stepping closer. His fingers skimmed from my chest straight down, a slow, teasing line of heat that left my breath catching. He inched under the band of my panties, brushing against the core of me that ached for him, and I nearly melted into his touch.
I gasped. Every nerve in me begged for more, for him to sink inside as he had done before, and stop tormenting
- me.
But instead he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear as he growled, “I want you naked. Just like me. Strip. Or I’ll do it for you.”
He stepped back a little, giving me space but watching, eyes dark and unblinking. The thought of his hands tearing the last pieces of clothing from me sent a shudder through my body, heat rolling over my skin. But it would also be too much to bear.
My hands moved almost on their own, trembling as they reached behind my back. The clasp of my bra snapped open beneath my fingers, and I slid the straps off my shoulders slowly. My breasts spilled free, nipples already tight and aching, almost painful to touch.
His eyes instantly deepened into something darker, hungrier. He didn’t just look at me, he devoured me. His gaze swept over my breasts, lingering shamelessly on my nipples before sliding lower, down my stomach, stopping between my thighs where I clenched hard, as if I could hide what was pulsing there. 1
I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my panties and tugged them down, wiggling from side to side until the fabric slid down my legs. Air brushed across the slick heat between my thighs, and I shuddered.
A sound tore from him, filled with hunger. I clenched my thighs together, desperate to hide what he was already seeing. But the movement only made the ache worse.
With no warning, he grabbed me, lifted me off the ground, and tossed me back onto the bed. The shock ripped a cry from my throat. My back slammed into the mattress, hair splaying wild around my face, the sheets cool against my overheated skin. The jolt sent a wave through me, half fear, half dizzy thrill, that left my heart pounding.
I pushed up on my elbows, breathless, watching him tower over me at the edge of the bed. I already knew what was coming. And this time. God help me. I wanted it.
“Are you going to fuck me?” My voice shook, tangled between hunger and terror. “You said I’d have to beg first.”
His laugh was dark, mocking. “Using my own words against me. Clever.”
His hand shot into my hair, yanking my head back so I had no choice but to stare into his storm–dark eyes.
“(
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Chapter 47. You’ll Think Only Of Me
+25 Bonus
There’s nothing I’d love more than to sink into your tight little pussy and wreck you. But no.
little pussy and wreck you. But no.” His voice dropped, low and lethal. “First, you’re going to learn. Think of this as punishment, for batting your lashes at Bruno.”
My gasp caught in my throat as his grip tightened, forcing my eyes to stay on him.
“From now on,” he said, each word a brand against my skin, “you’ll think only of me. My cock. My body. My hands. Your cunt will ache for me and no one else.”
A tremor rolled through me, shame and heat colliding under the weight of his voice, his scent, the heat of everything he’d already done to me. I had sworn I would never, ever be this girl, not for him. And yet here I was, on his bed, trembling.
“Touch your breasts,” he ordered. Not a request but a command.
My eyes went wide. I shook my head. “No…”
But my hands moved anyway. They found the soft weight of my own breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over already sensitive peaks. The jolt of sensation made my stomach clench.
“Now.” His voice dropped, dark velvet. “Play with your tits.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
