Page 78 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

His tongue joins in, lapping at my wetness. Rough, strong fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer and I grind against his face, chasing my orgasm. My nipples brush against the frosty glass, sending shivers through me that reach my core.

Dante is moaning behind me, enjoying every second of this and I’m so close to exploding that I cry out. He pulls back,depriving me of my orgasm and I huff, trying to spin around to face him. That earns me another stinging slap on the ass.

I hear a belt unbuckle, the metal teeth of his zipper sliding down. And suddenly, his hot, hard cock is pushing into me. I groan, slumping against the window, but he pulls me against him.

“Brace yourself, baby,” his whisper ghosts my temple and he shoves me forward, my arms flying out to stop myself. I’ve never watched the sunset while getting fucked and I have to say, I’m quickly becoming a fan of this.

I pull myself back into the present, focusing on Dante’s moans and whispers of love as he slides in and out. The smoky scent of his cologne floats around me, an added sensory factor to a moment that feels too overwhelming to be real.

This angle is allowing him to drive deeper and deeper into me and I’m moaning with abandon. Goosebumps cover my skin where the panes of glass brush against me with every thrust.

I let go, reaching my orgasm, and tightening around him. My body feels like a loaded spring that’s finally been let loose and I’m slumping against him, all of the anger and frustration seeping out. But he’s not done yet.

He lets me slide to my knees as he towers over me, stroking my hair gently with one hand and himself roughly with the other. My vision is hazy, the orgasm hitting me hard, but I want to make him feel this good.

I take over for him, wrapping my fingers around his length, and pulling him toward me. He groans, letting his head tip backward.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, his breath coming in short pants. “That’s my good girl.”

I throw myself into making him feel good, hollowing out my cheeks, moaning for him. I tighten my grip on the base of him and slide my tongue up and down his length, swirling it aroundthe head. He repeats my name over and over again and I feel him jerk forward, spilling into my mouth.

He slumps forward, slipping to the floor beside me, and pulls me against his chest. We lay on the cool marble floor as the sun disappears behind the skyscrapers of Manhattan and the room grows dark and cold.

I break the pleasant silence first, needing to say it. “We’ll figure it out, Dante. Together.”

I reach up, my hand cupping his face, my thumb brushing against his cheek. He nods, his gaze unfocused, but I can feel the weight pressing down on him—the responsibility that’s always been his burden.

This is more than just a fight for us. It’s a fight for him, for the life he’s always wanted, but never thought he could have.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “tomorrow, we end this.”

Chapter Thirty

Dante

“And we’re supposed to just trust them?”

“At this point, they’re the only ones we can trust,” Giancarlo tells me darkly.

I grit my teeth, keeping my voice steady. “Where’s the logic in that?”

Uncle Roman sighs, glancing up from the laptop where he’s sifting through surveillance footage of warehouses. “We contacted some old…friends, you could say. Looking for information, you know? No one’s willing to even talk about John. No one.”

“No one wants to get involved,” Giancarlo confirms. “Except the Russos.”

“And why is that? What’s their angle here?”

We’re crammed into my study, Vitale men seated on every possible surface. Rocco paces back and forth past the closed door, deep in thought. The air is thick, everyone’s nerves close to fraying, and a sense of hopelessness hangs over us.

Gia finally speaks up. “Your father was working with them a while back…”

She pauses, glancing at her own father. He stares out the window, a grim look on his face. I disguise my chuckle with a strategic cough. Clearly, Gia has been moreinvolvedin the negotiations than her father would like.

My stubborn, ballsy, little fighter.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, and continues. “He hired them to mess with your cargo. You got revenge. They decided it wasn’t worth the risk and refused to continue the partnership. He didn’t like that, I guess, because he’s blackmailing them.”

She spits out the entire story, stops for a breath, and hastily sits down in my leather chair. “They want him gone as much as we do.”

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