Page 88 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Running my fingers up his thighs gently makes him shiver. He moans my name, tipping his head back, and threads his fingers in my hair gently. I stroke the length of him, watching him grow and get hard for me.

Murmurs ofgood girlandmy lovefloat around me in a hazy dream. I wet my lips and slide my tongue up his cock, relishing in his moan of approval. He gazes down at me like I’m a goddess on my knees, worshipping me with his eyes.

I take him in my mouth, stroking him with my tongue as I do. He doubles over, cupping my head in his hands, chanting my name until he explodes down my throat. I swallow it, licking my lips, and rocking back on my heels to study the love-drunk look on his face.

He gathers me in his arms gently and lays me down on the bed, the love-drunk look replaced by an urgent hunger.

“You’re mine, Gia,” he says, kissing his way up my thighs, his hands inching my legs apart wider and wider.

“Always,” I try to say, but it comes out as a heady moan as his tongue dips inside of me.

He takes his time, torturing me with exquisitely deep, slow licks. Goosebumps break out over my skin, puckering my nipples, causing me to arch off the bed. He chuckles, the vibration hitting my sensitive clit with earth-shattering pleasure.

“Please,” I beg him, not caring about how needy I sound. “I need you, inside me. Please, Dante.”

He takes his time, trailing kisses against my hipbones, up to my ribs. My nipples get far too much attention and then I’m pulling him up, forcing him to move faster.

“Is this what you need?” he asks, sliding inside me. I gasp in pleasure, holding him still, savoring the feeling of him filling me up. He makes me feel complete—like I was missing a big chunk of my heart for six years.

“Yes,” I pant. “Slowly, please.”

“Oh, now you want it slowly?” he teases, laughing against my neck as he nibbles and sucks at my earlobe. Ever so agonizingly slowly, he pulls out and slides back inside me. We both still, our bodies radiating with pleasure.

It’s like every part of my being is alight with electricity. Every touch, every kiss feels different. I want to relish in it, but I also need him so much. I hook my knees around his waist, pushing him in deeper.

Dante gets the hint and starts up a steady smooth rhythm, thrusting himself deeper and deeper each time until I’m screaming his name. As we both find our release, we lock eyes.

The connection is so deep, so potent, that I almost cry.

Dante Manzo is my soulmate.

I’ve known it since I first met him when we were kids, and then again when we fell in love as teenagers.

I’ve known it my whole life.

And there’s nothing I want to do more than spend the rest of my life in his arms.

***

New Year’s Eve is frigid and snowy, but the Vitale lodge is warm. The place is lit up from every angle with fairy lights and sparkling decorations.

Firelight flickers in every hearth throughout the house, dancing over polished floors and catching the shimmer of crystal champagne flutes as guests flood in. The atmosphere hums with life, voices, and laughter filling every corner.

In the middle of the crowded room, surrounded by friends and family, I catch sight of Dante. We got ready separately, to surprise each other. He leans against the doorway, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers. His wild curls are brushed back tonight and he wears a black suit.

God, he’s so beautiful. I can’t believe we found each other again.

A painful memory of this room just one week ago flashes through my mind. Walking in and finding Dante here hurt like hell, but thinking about everything we went through together put things in perspective.

He loves Matteo as much as he loves me. It’s all more than I could ever hope for.

He’s watching me with that quiet intensity that makes me weak as if I'm the only person in the room. I do a little twirl for him, showing off the blood-red silk dress I picked for tonight. It dips low in the front and skims my curves without being too showy.

I toss my hair over my shoulder for good measure and he smirks, lifting his glass in a silent toast to me. I watch Matteo run over to him, pulling on his sleeve to ask a question. Dante nods and kisses the top of his head, sending him to join his cousins.

My heart grows three sizes.

As the night carries on, everyone’s spirits rise with each glass of wine, each cheerful laugh. The guests trade stories, jokes, and promises of a brighter year ahead.

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