Chapter 48: Part Your Legs
Gianna’s POV
My fingers obeyed before I could think. I rolled the tight peaks between thumb and finger, pinching and pulling.
harder each time.
A moan threatened to break free, but I bit my lower lip to hold it back.
He reached out, fingers gripping my chin until I had no choice but to look up at him. My hands stilled, shy under
his stare.
“I didn’t ask you to stop.” His thumb brushed over my fingers, then drifted lower, teasing my nipples. A shudder ran through me at his touch. “Do you want me to play with these aching little pebbles for you?”
My body screamed yes, but my head snapped no, too afraid of what would happen if he touched me. I knew I wouldn’t want him to stop. I’d beg for more.
So I forced my hands to move again, rolling and twirling my nipples harder. The sensation shot down to the place between my thighs pressed together, rocking helplessly.
His thumb dragged across my bottom lip, prying it free from my teeth. “You’ll never hide your moans from me again,” he rasped.
Dark passion burned in his eyes as he watched me. I could see it, the desire, the dangerous edge of obsession.
My own fingers twisted my nipples tighter and the sound that ripped from me was wild, beyond my control. A burning ache made me writhe against the sheets, desperate for friction I couldn’t seek. My nipples hardened to painful peaks under my fingers. I wanted more.
“Stop,” he finally ordered.
I still held on, body trembling, but the pleasure had built too high. It took everything in me to let go. My nipples throbbed, wet heat dripping between my thighs.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “Moaning, squirming, playing with your own tits like a desperate mistress while I watch. And you didn’t want to stop.”
Shame crashed over me, but beneath it there wasn’t anger at his words. There was an aching, undeniable need to be touched by him.
“Lay back.”
I didn’t argue. My body moved before my mind caught up, retreating inch by inch until the headboard pressed into my spine. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, legs weak not from fear but from the throbbing ache between them that had me trembling. I was wound so tight I thought I’d break apart if he so much as touched
- me.
“Part your legs.”
The command burned into every layer of my skin. My knees pressed together on instinct, but one look at him told me no wasn’t an option. Slowly, God, so slow, I let them fall open.
1/3
+25 Bonus
Cold air rushed between them, brushing against my slick folds, and I shuddered.
His eyes dragged over me, dark and merciless, then dropped lower. The weight of his stare landed between my thighs, heavy, invasive. Shame washed over me from the inside out, because even before he spoke I knew exactly what he saw.
A cruel smirk curled his mouth. “Pretty doll, there’s no point pretending. Look at you. Spread open.” His gaze lingered shamelessly, drinking in my wetness. “You’re dripping for me already.”
I was beyond mortified. My hands twitched, desperate to cover myself, but I didn’t move. I hated him for this, hated him for exposing me. Hated myself more because he was right.
“It’s not…” The denial was useless.
“Pathetic little liar.” His voice was a growl, low and filled with hunger. He leaned his shoulders back as if to revel in my shame, folding his arms like he had all the time in the world. “Now it’s my turn.”
My breath hitched as his hand slid down between his thighs. His fingers wrapped around himself and a rush of desire coursed through me. He was hard already, so thick, so long, that the thought of him inside me made my heat clench. Could that even fit inside me? Would it rip me apart?
His fist moved slow at first, stroking from base to tip, dragging a groan out of him so raw it reverberated through the room. The sound was as raw as the sight of him, broad shoulders drawn tight, hand pumping his cock, precum gleaming along the swollen head.
And his eyes, God, his eyes never left me. They stayed locked on me, on the wet glisten he’d already called out. Watching me while he pleasured himself, as if every drop of arousal he saw was feeding his hunger.
The thought made my head spin. Was he thinking about pushing inside me? Stretching me? Owning me the way his hands owned every inch of himself?
Maybe I did hold some power after all.
My lips parted against my will. My hands lifted, cupping my breasts, fingers teasing stiff, aching nipples. His reaction was instant, jaw tight, strokes rougher, faster.
“Fuck…” he growled, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing he’d ever crave.
The sight of him losing control did something wicked to me. I wanted more. Needed more. I dragged my hand lower, down my stomach, fingers trailing toward the ache that screamed for release.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough, sending a mix of fear and heat through me.
I stilled, frustration searing through me, my whole body on fire. My lips parted, ready to ask why, to beg, but he
cut me off.
་་
“I said don’t,” he snapped, chest heaving. His jaw flexed, gaze like fire. “I want you to watch me. Watch me stroke my cock. Learn every inch of it, because soon…” His grin twisted, dangerous. “…soon it’ll be your sweet little hands wrapped around me. Your mouth. Your cunt. All of you.”
The filth of it shot through me, leaving me trembling, thighs slick and quivering. Raw hunger and desperation mixed until I couldn’t tell one from the other.
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.
