Chapter 131: Fingers Between the Silk”
Gianna’s POV
Dante’s crude words sent a bolt of heat straight to my core, making my body tremble.
His hand brushed over my cleavage, the beaded fabric scraping against my skin as his palm slid higher. His fingers spread over my breast, covering it, cupping it fully.
He found my nipple and pinched, not gently. The sharp mix of pleasure and pain pulled a gasp from my throat.
“Your tits are perfect.”
His hand left my breast and moved lower, down my stomach and ribs, until it reached my thigh. He slipped his hand beneath the slit, sliding past the lining underneath, the opening giving him easy access. My breathing turned uneven and shallow, my chest rising fast as his fingers traveled higher.
I knew exactly where his hand was going. I knew what he was about to do.
“How about,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, “we start a new tradition?”
“What… what tradition?” My voice shook.
“I make you cum in this dress before the wedding.”
His fingers reached the edge of my panties, the delicate lace suddenly feeling useless against his touch. “That way, every time you move in it, every time the fabric shifts, you’ll remember this moment. You’ll remember my hands on you. My fingers inside you. How I made you fall apart in front of these mirrors.”
Oh God. The thought of it, walking down the aisle with this secret, feeling the dress against my skin and remembering, was dirty, wrong, and I wanted it with a desperation that shocked me. But I could not let him know that.
“That’s…” I gasped as his hand slid under my thong, his fingers finding me slick. The contact sent a shudder through my body. He swiped once, gathering my wetness and dragging it to my entrance, stopping just short of where I needed him most, leaving my body trembling with want.
“That’s insane…”
“Fuck, Gianna,” he groaned against my neck, and I felt his cock, hard and thick, pressing insistently against my lower back. ” You’re soaked. Absolutely drenched. Is this all for me?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t form words. But he wasn’t really asking.
“See, there’s no need to be shy. You do the same to me.” He ground against me, letting me feel every thick, hard inch of him through his pants. “I’m fucking hard, pretty doll. My cock is aching. All I can think about is bending you over this platform, pushing up all these pretty layers, and fucking you until you can’t remember your own name.”
His fingers found my clit, circling it with maddening lightness, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“But we don’t have time for that,” he continued, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. “So instead, I’m going to make you come on my fingers. I’m going to make you soak this expensive dress while you watch yourself tall apart. And every time you wear it, you’ll remember how desperate you were for me.”
His other hand slid up my back and slipped inside my cleavage, finding my nipples again. His fingers tugged harder this time, twisting slightly, and the sensation shot straight to my core.
At the same moment, his fingers on my clit pressed with more intent, circling with heavier pressure. My head fell back instinctively against his shoulder, a breath tearing from my chest.
“Watch,” he commanded, his hand tilting my head up. “Keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to see how beautiful you are when I touch you.”
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Chapter 131 Fingers Between the sa
+25 Bonus
I forced my eyes open, only then realizing I had shut them. I looked at our reflection. I looked wanton and desperate, my face flushed, my chest rising and falling fast, my lips parted on silent gasps.
He stood behind me, dark and commanding, his hands on me, possessive and skilled.
His fingers left my clit, and I whimpered at the loss, but then they moved lower, teasing my entrance, gathering my wetness.
“Tesoro, you’re already open for me,” he breathed, satisfaction roughening his voice.
And then, without warning, he pushed one finger inside me.
I gasped, my mouth falling open, my hands flying up to grip his forearms, my body arching into the sensation as if it had been waiting for him.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my ear. “Let it happen. Let yourself open.‘
He began to move, his finger sliding in and out in a rhythm that was maddeningly restrained, controlled. Too slow. Too careful. My hips twitched, chasing more.
Then he added a second finger, stretching me, filling me, and the sudden fullness ripped a sound from my throat as my head tipped back and my eyes shut. I couldn’t help it, his fingers felt divine.
“Eyes on yourself,” he said. “I want this to be etched into your memory.”
I forced my gaze back to the mirror, watching his hand work between my thighs, his fingers disappearing beneath the pale fabric of my dress. My legs trembled uncontrollably as his pace quickened, more insistent now, and a broken moan slipped free before I could stop it.
“Quiet,” he warned, though his hand never slowed. “You can’t let anyone hear how much you like this. How much you enjoy being my dirty girl.”
His movements only grew stronger, more relentless. I couldn’t stop the sounds anymore. Panic flared as I slapped a hand over my mouth, smothering the cry that threatened to spill out.
Then voices.
Faint at first, but getting closer.
Arielle’s voice, bright and happy. “… I hope this dress is the one.”
And the assistant’s voice, professional and warm. “Your father mentioned you’re in the wedding party as well. Have you thought about what color you’d like for your dress?”
My eyes widened in panic, meeting Dante’s in the mirror. “Arielle…” I gasped, my hands coming up to push at his arms. ” They’re coming… you have to stop…”
But Dante didn’t stop. If anything, his fingers moved faster, harder, his thumb finding my clit and pressing in perfect circles. “I’ll be sweet and quick,” he murmured against my car, his voice a dark promise. “But you’re going to come for me first.”
“Dante, no…” Fear and arousal mixed inside me, making my heart race for entirely different reasons.
The voices were getting closer, just outside the door now.
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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.
