"Of course," he said. "If you've got ideas, I'm listening."
"Well, how does a family wedding at my grandfather's estate sound?"
"Like trouble."
"So I can count on you to take me?"
"You know it."
Chapter Seventeen
Dante fiddled with his blood red tie in the mirror of the small bathroom, his reflection hazy from the lingering steam of his hot shower. His hair was damp, a messy mop curling on top of his head, but otherwise, he was all put together. A fresh shave seemed to do wonders for his face. He looked younger, he thought—refreshed, almost—like his system had been rebooted.
It's about fucking time.
"You sure about this?" Dante called out to Gabriella, who was off in the bedroom, doing whatever it was she'd been in there doing for over an hour with the door closed. Putting on makeup. Getting dressed. Doing other feminine shit. Not playing with her pussy, though, like she was in Dante's imagination. Pity. It was the only reason someone should be locked in a room alone for so long. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know. I could just drop you off or something. Wait by the highway."
The door to the bedroom slid open, the clink of high heels echoing through the apartment as her voice chimed in. "Why? Getting cold feet?"
"Not a chance," he scoffed, glancing out of the bathroom and stalling when he caught sight of her. Jesus. Blood red dress, not too tight, but clingy enough to show off her curves, falling just above the knees, exposing more skin than was probably appropriate. The woman looked like pure sin. Dante's eyes scanned her, from top to bottom, greedily drinking her in. "Maybe we both should just stay home."
"Not a chance," she said, mimicking him.
He met her eyes, smiling at the twinkle that greeted him. Damn, she was beautiful. He would never get over it, nor would he ever understand what he'd done to deserve her in his life. Goddamn Christmas miracle. "You look like something I'd love to eat."
She laughed. "It's good seeing you with an appetite."
"You say that now." He stepped out of the bathroom and shut the light off behind him as he approached her. Grasping her hip, he pulled her to him, feeling her warmth. "We'll see how you feel after I'm done ravishing you."
He nuzzled into her neck, running his tongue along her skin, tracing her jawline. Gabriella wrapped her arms around his neck, cocking her head to give him more space, despite her words of protest. "We can't do this right now. There's not enough time."
"My car's fast," he said. "It buys us a few minutes."
"But—"
Dante pressed his pointer finger to her lips, silencing her, as he kissed back up her jawline before looking her dead in the eyes. "Shh, no talking. There's not enough time, remember? So unless what you're trying to say is 'fuck me, Dante', it needs to wait for later."
She clamped her lips closed, giving him a curious look, one that he didn’t dwell on. She was right, after all. Time was scarce. Dropping to his knees, right then and there, he pushed her dress up to her waist, exposing her matching red lacy underwear. He kissed her through the fabric, a few small pecks, before he grasped the side of the lace and tugged them down her legs. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside, as Dante forced her legs apart just enough for him to come up between them. His tongue grazed across the slit, tasting her as she whimpered. Fuck, she was sweet, a bit tangy with a pinch of saltiness. He couldn't describe it, not really, but he'd bake a fucking pie of that pussy and eat it all day long.
"Dante," she moaned, the sound of his name in that low, gritty tone enough to make his dick stand up and notice what was happening. It grew hard, throbbing, but he tried to ignore the son of a bitch, focusing all of his attention on Gabriella. He licked, sucking her clit, as his fingers worked magic, sliding inside of her, pumping in and out. He curved his fingertips, seeking out that sweet spot. The second he found it, her knees nearly buckled, her breath hitching.
He took it easy on her, savoring the moment, before time started ticking away too fast. Tick-tock, motherfucker. If he didn't wrap it up, STAT, they'd never make it. And as much as Dante might not have minded, because he could've stayed like