Page 55 of The Don's Eternal Vows

"Where's your sense of adventure, Gianni? I thought you liked a thrill," I inch closer until our bodies are mere inches apart. “Don’t go growing old on me now.”

The rush of adrenaline courses through my veins, heightening every sensation.

“I’m not old,” Gianni growls. I can feel his heat in my ear.

I raise an eyebrow, challenging him with a playful glint in my eyes. "Perhaps you need a bit of spontaneity in your life."

Gianni's stern expression wavers slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his gaze. His free hand moves to gently cup my cheek, his touch surprisingly tender.

Impulsively, I reach out and take his hand, lacing our fingers together. His palm is warm and callused against mine, the contact sending a shiver down my spine. So, this is what it feels like to be alive. I’d nearly forgotten the thrum of a heart, the pop of a vein, the steam between lovers. I step closer until our bodies are touching, my face tilted up to his.

"Make me feel alive, Gianni," I murmur, my voice low and intimate, my hand resting on his chest.

Gianni's eyes darken, his gaze dropping to my lips. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken desire. For a moment, I forget about the balloon and the endless expanse of sky surrounding us. All I can see is him; all I can feel is the heat of his body and the blood in my veins.

"How’s this for alive?" he whispers roughly, his hand curves behind my neck and the next thing I know, he pulls me into a searing kiss. His lips are urgent and demanding as I melt into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket.

Gianni's response is instantaneous - his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, devouring me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this,” he mumbles into my mouth, biting my lower lip. A delicious pain spreads across my lips, and I groan. My heart races, and my entire body is alight with need. I can't get enough of him - his taste, his touch, the way he makes me feel so fucking alive.

I place my arms around his neck and inch him closer until I feel his cock edged up against me. I rotate my hips in slow circles, letting him know I feel what he does.

"Gen," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls away for air, "what are you doing to me?"

I grin up at him, a challenge in my eyes. "Keeping you young," I purr, my fingers reaching behind my back, deftly unfastening the zip of my dress.

Gianni's eyes darken with hunger as the fabric pools at my feet, revealing the lace chemise and matching panties beneath. His eyes linger on the curve of my hips, the gentle swell of my belly, the half-moon breasts spilling out of my chemise. But his wordless praise is not enough. Not nearly enough to quench this burning fire that has ignited inside me.

"Gianni," I say, my voice breathy, "I want you... now."

His self-control shatters. Like a man possessed, he covers the distance between us in one singular step and sweeps me into his arms, carrying me to the center of the balloon’s basket. My breath catches in my throat, my body melting against his. He lowers us down, his muscles flexing beneath his suit jacket.

I gaze up at him, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. "I want you, Gianni. Right here, right now."

His hands roam over my body, igniting sparks of desire wherever they touch. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I can't get enough of you."

His lips crash against mine in a searing kiss, all tongues and teeth and desperate hunger. I moan into his mouth, arching my back as his fingers find the clasps of my chemise. With a deft twist, it comes loose, and he tosses it aside.

With practiced ease, he divests himself of his remaining clothes, leaving us skin to skin, his muscled chest pressed against my burning flesh.

"Fuck, you’re perfect," he murmurs appreciatively, cupping the soft mounds of my breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brush over my nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. Electric pleasure shoots through me, pooling between my thighs.

I writhe beneath him, my hips rocking up to meet his. "Please, Gianni," I gasp, my voice breathy and needy. "Touch me."

He smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me. Slowly, torturously, he trails his fingers down my stomach, over my hip bones, until they reach the lacy edge of my panties. I shiver in anticipation, biting my lip as he hooks his thumbs under the delicate fabric.

"These need to go," he declares, sliding them down my legs with agonizing leisure. I lift my hips to help him, kicking them off impatiently.

Gianni settles between my thighs, his hands gliding up the sensitive skin with deliberate slowness. Each touch is like a brand, igniting a firestorm of need deep in my core. I squirm, silently begging for more, desperate for him to give me what I crave.

"So responsive," he praises, his fingers dancing closer to where I need him most. "I love how much you want me, Genoveva. How ready you are for my touch."

I can only whimper in response, too far gone for words. Gianni has always had this effect on me - the ability to reduce me toa trembling, needy mess with just a look, a touch, a word. It's intoxicating and overwhelming in the best possible way.

It’s the closest I get to remembering how we used to be.

His fingers finally reach the apex of my thighs, gliding through my pussy with maddening gentleness. I arch into his touch, a low moan escaping my lips as he circles my clit, teasing me with feather-light caresses.

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