Going After Heaven (Mafia Romance)

Chapter Twenty Three

He is pressed against me, his scent stifling and his breath warm and hoarse against the crook of my neck. I am lying on my stomach with my ass bucked slightly up to grind into his hard shaft and my legs pressed together tightly, but still not enough friction to help my neediness and the arch I feel in my core.

I want him to touch me there, I want him to touch me everywhere.

He moves his hand to place it between my stomach and the bed. I lift myself a bit to give him passage to the one place I want those fingers. And he glides. Taking his hand down to meet my wet swollen core. I moan but his free hand comes to my mouth to cup it and keep my moaning muffled.

His long fingers find my clit and he starts to stroke teasingly. His fingers glide smoothly over the slickness of my wetness.

"More Gabriele" I muffle into his hand and he groans.

"You were made for me and I for you" he croaks into my neck and nibs.

The sharp pinch sends shivers from the pulse on my neck through a single vein to my core as heat.

He picks up his stroking, pressing his fingers into my core and taking my clit between his two fingers. He strokes in earnest and I moan breathily. Our feet coiling and my fingers lost in his sooty curls, digging and pulling.

"Yesss Gabriele, yes yes ye..." I strain as a wave of intensity washes through me from his earnest stroking, gathering below my stomach and begging to break out.

"Come for me" he commands and I shudder in obedience to his command. My core clenches and the heat wave topple out of me as warm liquid with each jerk.

I start to breathe heavily into my mattress. My vision bleaks with my eyes shut.

I open my eyes and I am alone on my bed, lying on my stomach, my cheek pressing into my pillow, one hand covering my mouth and the other buried between my legs.

I feel the wetness on my fingers and the mattress beneath them.

It was a dream. Fuck me.

I had dreamt of Gabriele and fucked myself to orgasm. It must have been because of the little show I gave when he came back from that date with Helena. Or the fact that I slept with his name on my mind.

Still, It felt so real.

His body pressing against mine had felt so real. His voice vibrating on my skin felt real. His long fingers stroking my clit had felt too real. And too good. So good that thinking about it now I want more of it.

Sex had never been a thing for me. The business of the underworld mounted and swallowed up every urge to get off. I would bury myself in work and forget I have needs to take care of. I never thought about it so it was always dormant.

I do not know what a man's touch feels like before him nor did I want to know. I was consumed by hate and fueled by the need to avenge my parent's death. But now with him, every dead hormone is quickened and demanding. My nipples ache to be touched, sucked, nibbed, and ruffled under strong hands. No other hand or mouth gets them hard as the thought of his over them does.

I take my hand away from between my legs, turn over on my bed, and exhale deeply.

I need to find a way around this. I need to find a fucking way around this. My control over my body is slipping out of my grip. My hormones are beginning to revolt and demand something else. Anger and hate are no longer a distraction strong enough to quench the burns in my stomach every time I look at him.

This was never me. He is my curse. My nightmare.

I sit up on my bed and I go stiff as my eyes meet him. My breath hitches and my beating heart hammer against the walls of my chest. The organs in my stomach coil and swim upsettingly, pushing bile to my throat.