Page 34 of Auctioned Innocence (Bonds of Betrayal #3)

I roll over so I’m on top of him and kiss my way down his body until I’m eye level with his cock. I lick the head slowly and Dante moans. His teeth clench together as his hands fist my hair. “Yes.”

I let him regain composure momentarily—just a moment of rest before my mouth surrounds him almost completely. I suck earnestly. His entire body quivers with every bobble of my head, hips arching as he strains against me. He’s moaning my name, louder and louder.

God, I love this man.

Dante moans my name again, urging me to go faster, and when I listen, I’m no longer concerned about anything else. I pull back slowly with my mouth tight, swirl my tongue around the tip, lick slowly with pressure, and draw him fully in my mouth again until he can’t go in any further.

Four quick bobs of my head before I repeat.

It’s working like a charm. He’s cursing, calling my name, bucking his hips like crazy, fisting my hair, and panting like he’s running a marathon.

Breaking the rhythm, I look up at him and relinquish control for a moment.

I place his hands on the back of my head and Dante understands what I’m trying to tell him.

With his fists buried in my hair, he keeps me in as deep as he can without choking me and thrusts into my mouth, faster.

I softly hum around him and the vibrations nearly makes Dante break as this foreign, strangled moan escapes his lips.

“Sofia!” His entire body goes rigid.

I know that he’s not going to make it any longer so I make him stop and replace lips with a hand, to hold him off a bit longer.

“Don’t stop,” he says urgently and hoarsely, his hand covering mine.

I don’t. How can I? I do, however, move his hand, take him back into my mouth, guide his thrusts until we find a speed we’re both happy with.

I’m humming.

He’s moaning.

I’m gripping his thighs.

His fists are clutching my hair for dear life.

I purposely tighten my mouth around him. The sharp and strangled yell that sprouts from the back of his throat makes me grin. Each synchronized move drags him closer and closer to the edge. He’s totally wild and uninhibited now. Stiff, rough, yelling my name, shaking, gripping my hair tighter.

Seeing him with no inhibition is worth it. I keep my hands on his hips to control his frenzied thrusts, swirling my tongue, but it’s no use. He’s a man possessed, and I love to see him completely out of sorts and unconstrained, looking wild.

He deserves this.

“ I —”

Oh, I know. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s rushing to his orgasm. I feel it, and I’m ready for it. He tries to pull away. It’s only instinct, but I hold him, gripping his shaking hips tight, sucking as vigorously and rapidly as I can.

He’s not going anywhere.

He lets out a guttural yell. “ Sofia! I’m —” The tension breaks and his violently intense orgasm hits full force.

Afterward, something changes in his eyes. The frenzied desperation gives way to something deeper, more tender. He cups my face in his hands, studying me like I’m something precious.

When he enters me this time, it’s with a reverence that makes tears spring to my eyes. Every movement is deliberate, worshipful, like he’s trying to heal me from the inside out. His hands map my body with tender touches, fingertips trailing down my sides, across my ribs, memorizing every curve.

“You are not broken,” he whispers against my ear as he moves inside me with exquisite care, every thrust slow and deep and perfect. “You are not naive. You are not weak.”

“Then what am I?” My voice is barely a breath, lost in the gentle rhythm of our bodies moving together.

“Mine,” he says simply, and the word settles into my bones like a benediction. His forehead rests against mine, our breathing synchronized, hearts beating in perfect time. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing Lorenzo did can change that.”

This climax builds slowly, wave after wave of sensation washing over me—not the desperate release of before, but something deeper, healing. It starts as warmth in my core and spreads outward until every nerve ending sings with pleasure and love and the absolute certainty that I am cherished.

When it’s over, I curl against his chest on the thin mattress, our skin still damp with sweat, tracing the fresh scratches on his shoulders that match the ones on my heart. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and for the first time since learning about Lorenzo’s betrayal, I feel whole.

“I’m not that innocent girl anymore,” I say quietly. “The one Lorenzo helped raise. The one who believed family was sacred.”

“No.” Dante’s fingers trail down my spine. “You’re stronger. Fiercer. More beautiful for having survived his betrayal.”

I think about the girl I was just weeks ago. About everything that’s changed. About Lorenzo’s betrayal burning away the last of my naive trust.

“We end this,” I say finally. “But we do it my way.”

Dante props himself up on an elbow. “What are you thinking?”

“Lorenzo wants power? Control?” I reach for the laptop Mario left with the other supplies, my mind already spinning with possibilities. “Let’s give him exactly what he wants.”

Understanding dawns in Dante’s eyes as I outline my plan. It’s dangerous. Possibly suicidal.

But it will work.