Chapter 91: Chasing the release he’d denied me.
Gianna’s POV
There was so much more. Emotions I couldn’t name, couldn’t voice, couldn’t even fully acknowledge to myself yet. But I forced out what I could, what I knew was true, “That’s how I know, I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Dante. Not that way.”
His eyes flashed with a series of emotions, surprise, desire, anger, hope, possessiveness, before he closed the remaining distance and crashed his lips against mine. The kiss was explosive, passionate and desperate and consuming. He poured all his rage and pent–up desire and Hurt into that kiss, claiming my mouth with a fierceness that stole my breath.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, unable to fight the pull, needing the connection as much as he did. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, tasting me. His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, deepening the kiss until I could barely breathe.
“Mine,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough, possessive, dark with emotion. “You’re my woman, Gianna Giovanni.”
When he finally broke away, our breaths clashed, ragged and heavy. Then his mouth was on my throat, leaving trails of heat across my skin. He sucked, bit and marked me like he needed me to see I belonged to him, my collarbone, the curve of my breasts, anywhere his lips could reach.
Moans spilled out of me without control, my body responding to every touch, every possessive claim. God, I’d missed this. Missed him. Missed the way he touched me like he had every right to my body, to every sound that escaped my lips.
This… this was what I wanted. Not the toys, not the punishment or games. Just him. His hands, his mouth, his body pressed against mine.
His palms closed around my breasts, possessive, his thumbs rolling over my swollen, clamped nipples. The sting sent a jolt of pleasure straight through me, and I cried out, trembling. Then his mouth replaced his hands, closing over one nipple, sucking around the clamp with deep, hungry pressure. The sensation was so intense.
“Dante!” His name broke from my lips, both a gasp and a plea.
His hands traveled lower, sliding over my ribs, down my waist, tracing slow circl could barely breathe. Then he stopped, fingers hovering where I ached for him mos
His dark eyes locked on mine with burning intensity. “What do you want, Gianna? Say it.‘
“You,” I breathed out, voice trembling. “I want you.”
bling thighs until I
Instinctively, I tried to reach for him, forgetting the restraints that kept me helpless, desperate to feel his skin, to drag him closer, to taste him again.
He caught my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue claiming mine as his hand finally slid between my legs. He pushed my soaked panties aside, and the moment his fingers brushed my slick heat, I gasped. Then he placed one finger directly on my swollen, aching clit.
But he didn’t move, just held it there, the pressure maddeningly light, teasing.
“Tell me how I truly make you feel,” he demanded against my lips, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me. “No more lies. No more half–truths. Tell me everything.”
My body trembled beneath him, need clawing at every inch of me. He had stripped me bare, no more defenses, no walls, no lies. Just truth and desire and the raw ache he’d created.
Choptar & Chasing the release he denied me
+25 Bonus
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before,” I confessed breathlessly, the word
Forbidden sensations that terrify me. Things I don’t understand, can’t explain. When
in a rush.
(6
to me, I feel
heat, this overwhelming fire that consumes everything. When you touch me, my entire boy comes alive. Right now I want all of you, Dante De Luca. Every part of you. I want you to touch me, fill me, make me yours completely. Please…”
The vulnerability in my own voice should have embarrassed me, but I was too far gone to care.
He smirked, that devastating expression that made my heart race and my core clench with anticipation.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice dark and wicked as he finally, blessedly pressed his finger against my clit and circled it slowly.
“Yes!” I gasped, my hips jerking up helplessly. “Don’t stop.. oh, God… yes… more…‘
>>
He added pressure, his movements quickening, each stroke drawing me closer to the edge I’d been chasing all night. My breath came in broken gasps, I was right there, trembling, ready to fall apart…
Then he pulled away completely.
“What?” The word broke from me in disbelief, followed by a frustrated sob. “I thought…”
“That’s enough punishment for today,” he interrupted, his voice calm again, maddeningly controlled. The shift in tone made me want to scream.
I wanted to yell at him, to demand he finish what he’d started, but no sound came out. My body was shaking from the intensity, my muscles quivering with unspent desire. All I wanted in that moment was to be free of the restraints, so I could, what? Attack him? Touch him? Beg him? I wasn’t even sure anymore.
He reached down and began releasing me, starting with my ankles and the spreader bar, then my wrists. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, almost tender, such a stark contrast to everything that had come before.
He caught me easily, his strong arms wrapping around me and lifting me against his chest. One arm slid beneath. my knees while the other supported my back, cradling me close to his body. I could feel the warmth of him, the solid strength, and despite everything, I found myself leaning into it.
He carried me to the bed in the center of the room and laid me down gently on felt like heaven against my overheated, oversensitive skin.
mattress. The cool sheets
He carefully removed the nipple clamps, and I whimpered at the rush of blood flow returning. The sensation was almost as intense as when he’d put them on, a burning tingle that made my eyes water.
His hand brushed hair away from my face tenderly. For a moment I thought and I hoped he might stay, that he might finish what he’d started.
“Get some rest,” he murmured. Then his expression hardened slightly, his voice taking on that commanding edge. “And Gianna? Don’t touch yourself. Don’t even think about it. Just rest.”
I reached for him instinctively, my fingers barely grazing his hand. “Dante…”
But he pulled away, stepping back from the bed. His dark eyes lingered on me for a long moment, taking in my flushed skin, my trembling body, the desperate need still written across my face. Then he turned and walked toward the door.
The soft click of it closing behind him felt like the price of my own mistakes.
I lay there in the dim light, staring at the ceiling. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed and aching. Sleep? He expected me to sleep like this?
I squeezed my thighs together, trying to find some relief, but it only made things worse. The friction, the
pressure, it reminded me of his touch, his fingers, the vibrations of that wand he’d were still sensitive, almost painfully so, and every breath made the fabric of my no bare and exposed and aching
My nipples ed. Completely
I tried to focus on anything else, the texture of the sheets beneath me, the sound of my own breathing But my body wouldn’t let me forget.
My core clenched desperately around nothing, still seeking the fullness he’d denied me. Wetness pooled between my thighs, a constant reminder of how close I’d been, how thoroughly he’d wound me up and left me stranded at the edge.
Minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. I lost count. My hands fisted in the sheets, trying to channel the desperate energy somewhere, anywhere other than where it wanted to go.
He’d left me like this on purpose. Another layer of punishment, of control. He wanted me to lie here wanting, needing, suffering for what I’d done.
Well, fuck that.
Rebellion sparked hot in my chest, mixing with the arousal until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. He didn’t get to do this to me. Didn’t get to wind me up to the breaking point and then just walk away with some command that I obey like a good little prisoner.
My hand moved almost of its own accord, sliding down my stomach. I hesitated for just a moment, remembering his warning, his explicit command not to touch myself. But the ache was unbearable. And some defiant part of me, the part that had planned an escape, that had fought him every step of the way, refused to just lie here suffering because he’d ordered it.
My fingers slipped between my thighs. The first touch against my swollen clit made me gasp, my back arching off the mattress. God, I was so sensitive, so ready, it almost hurt. I circled slowly, the way he had, remembering the pattern of his touch. My other hand came up to cup my breast, my thumb brushing over my still–tender nipple. A moan escaped my lips, and I bit down on it quickly, suddenly paranoid that he might hear. That he might come back and catch me disobeying Part of me didn’t care. Part of me almost wanted him to.
I increased the pressure, my fingers moving faster. My hipsrocked against n. denied me.
sing the release he’d
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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.
