Page 44 of Liberated By Sin
“Even better.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, my head shaking slightly. “You’rebroken.”
“Aren’t we all?”
You have no idea.
Santino’s dark eyes roamed over my face, settling on my mouth. Well-vested in the way the eyes of men ignited with desire and the need to sink their cocks into any willing—or unwilling—hole, I knew Santino was no different. But while those embers of lust smoldered behind his gaze, there was something else…
“Santino,” I whispered. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to earn everything you give me.” Closer. “Your smile.” His thumb grazed my lips. “Your friendship.” Another lock of hair tucked behind my ear. “But most importantly, your trust.”
“I trust no one.” The pitch of my voice betrayed me, falling from my mouth as a breathy exhale.
“I’m up for the challenge.” His proximity and his words gave my stomach that fluttery feeling once again.
Fuck.
20
“Fuck,fuck, fuck…”
I whispered into the void as Santino pushed his face between my breasts, hands splayed against my back, guiding my movements as I bounced on his cock, riding him until my thighs burned and his name slithered from my tongue like a ragged plea.
“Preziosa,” he rasped into my ear, nipping at my lobe.
I moaned a barely audible “What?” and threw my head back.
“Wake up.”
I jolted awake, startling Pheonix, who quickly hopped off the foot of my bed and trotted into the hallway.
A dream. Afuckingwet dream.
Letting myself fall back onto my pillow, I gathered the white comforter to my face and muffled a scream into the thick fabric. I didn’t know what I hated more, the fact that I was dreaming about fucking Santino or that I’d woken up before experiencing a dream orgasm.
I had come to terms with remaining celibateuntil the day I died. The thought was a comforting one—until now.
I think.
Goosebumps littered my skin as the memories of the last time my body experienced an orgasm flashed in and out. Even during those hellish moments, no matter how fiercely my mind fought, my body betrayed me. The self-loathing and guilt that followed tested my sanity and found me bent over, retching the filth and shame.
It doesn’t matter now. That girl is dead.
I shoved her back where she belonged and sighed, wiping the sweat beading on my forehead.
Santino Leone.
As much as I wanted to convince myself that the dream meant nothing and was simply a product of last night’s events and being in his home, I knew better. The sexual tension still burned between us. One moment, I was threatening his life, and the next, I allowed him in my space. Allowed his touch and sweet gestures. Swooned over his words.
Trust?
He claimed to want to earn my trust. But if I was being truthful with myself, he already had it. Or else he’d be on his way to a morgue alongside Tarasov. Instead, I’d spent the night on his couch, ate his damn breakfast, and let him drive me home.
Blowing a breath, I covered my face with my hands.
And now I was dreaming of his cock…and liked it.