Made For You

Ch. 32: We Aren't Forever

Gabriel

Her disobedience is enticing.

It does something to that organ inside my chest—something I despise tremendously.

I am not made of stone like they all say. I pretend to be. With her, that pretense breaks. She thinks she can't solve me without knowing how close she is to making me reveal myself. I want her to know what I am made of, want her to love that version of me. Winning her approval has become my holy grail ever since I found out what her love can do.

Her love stays with you even after death. Dante Salvatore is proof of that. I want the love she gave him. It has left a grating wound inside me—the knowledge that she doesn't put me above him.

I flit my gaze over her glistening skin which smells like vanilla cupcakes after her shower, mixed with the arousing scent of her cunt wet over my weeping cock. Only the thin cotton of her shorts is the barrier between us which my body reacts to violently.

"Bellissima..." I groan, shifting her closer, her skin pressing to mine, the slick moisture between us sticking our bodies together.

Her moans are music, her cries are what I want to be playing on a loop inside my mind. I am as greedy for that wet spot between her legs as my Dad was for power.

"What? You scared?" A cunning shapely eyebrow rises high above her forehead, the challenge spoken slyly.

A silent rage sparks in me, the need to see that grin morphing into one of pleasure becoming a mission. I twist her hair, tugging it back which makes her throat curve before me. I lick my tongue over that vanilla and salty taste. It is an addictive taste that one could want more of like a fucking kid greedy for ice cream.

"You've no idea what fire you're playing with, luce mia." Faint goosebumps decorate her skin. Her fingers latch onto my bare shoulders, eyelids shutting in the mercy of her body. "I'll make sure your moans tonight are endless."

"Just like I thought," the insolent brat quips with a tiny smirk. "All bark and no bite."

I meet her eyes briefly, letting her above her moment before I make her regret her words. I guide her shorts down her legs, exposing her cunt to my hungry eyes. The pink clit is engorged, begging to be licked.

"Off with it," I command.

The brat climbs down, her boobs jiggling. Once she stands, the shorts slide down those smooth legs, leaving her naked. She doesn't shy away, doesn't hide herself. Instead, she stands there with her hands behind her back, showing me all of her like a Goddess.

I stand up, gaze locked with hers as I let my pants fall. Her eyes dart down to where a part of me stands blue. My balls are tight, seeming ready to explode already after she deprived them of release. I shrug my shirt off, standing unclothed before her.

We stare at each other, her naked body a temptation that welcomes me to lose all my sanity. The heart-shaped locket sits between her collarbone, glimmering when it catches the light. I heard her telling Marsh once that he gave it to her—the man under the grave who is my mortal enemy. I trail a hand up, touching the locket with my index finger.

"What else are you carrying of him with you?" I ask, sounding strained. I hate that she carries him with her all day. I have never seen her without this fucking jewelry.

"Just this," she muses, then quickly grabs my wrist when I fist that locket, fully aiming to tear it off her neck. "No, don't."

A pair of dark, crossed eyebrows accompany her warning. The look on her is sincere. I loosen my hold on the object, letting my hand dive down to her curves, admiring the softness, that little belly piercing that teases me always. She doesn't hide from me and it is a blissful change.