Page 34 of Immoral

8

Cara

Heat firesin every cell of my body. Gianni's arm is around my waist. His hand is discreetly cupping my pussy. His dexterous middle finger is inside me, and his thumb hasn't stopped rolling my clit since dinner came out.

He's not even using his predominant hand.

I'm screwed.

I'm doing everything I can to not give in to the high my body wants. Yet I know this is a game I probably won't win.

What Gianni wants, Gianni gets.

Why did I agree to this?

It's not the sexual acts in the restaurant that I'm opposed to. Hell, Gianni's done all sorts of indecent things to me in public before. It's part of the thrill of being with him. But this bet...

Gianni's voice keeps echoing in my mind.If I win, I get you all night.HoweverI want you.

Since I got back to the States, he's pursued me relentlessly. I tried for months to stay away from him. The thought of sex with him never made me feel ill or disgusted like you usually feel with an ex. It's always been the opposite. The temptation to give in was always there. Sex with Gianni isn't something you can forget or not crave. It's like lighting up a firework and not wanting to watch it explode.

It's impossible.

The problem is all about Gianni's dominance. It's part of who he is in life, but it's an entirely different experience to have him exude power over you in the bedroom. He requires complete submission. He's never stated it until today on the plane, but it's always been there. And now, who knows what he has up his sleeve?

Allowing him to have me however he wants isn't going to allow me to keep a level playing field with him, which is the only way I'm surviving this marriage. Yet I'm unsure how to get out of this bet—not that I can think straight.

With his free hand, he feeds me a bite of chocolate cake, just like he fed me the rest of my dinner. Others around us probably think we're having a typical romantic dinner. Every bite of lobster thermidor, or whatever the potato casserole was next to it, involved him whispering dirty words in my ear. Throughout the meal, he played my pussy like a professional violinist.

Several times, he studied me. I looked him straight in the eye and "please" actually flew out of my mouth. It was barely audible, but he heard it. I heard it. It was everything his ego needed.

He hasn't let me come. Instead, he's edged me the entire dinner, keeping me on the verge of exploding. Right now, I'm not in a full-blown sweat, but my skin's glistening.

The chocolate cake hits my tongue, and he increases his pressure. I whimper. It's my favorite dessert, which is why Gianni ordered it. I chew it and swallow. He brings his lips to mine. "You have chocolate on your mouth."

I lick my lips, and he slides his tongue against mine, kissing me like he's trying to wipe all the remaining chocolate out of my mouth.

His thumb circles faster, and I suddenly can't hold back anymore. Gianni tastes more delicious than usual, and that's a hard thing to do.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, digging my fingers into his neck. Tiny sounds lodge in my throat.

He doesn't stop this time. Adrenaline hits me so hard, the room disappears around me. It's only Gianni's delicious tongue dancing in my mouth, his hot breath merging with mine, and his kisses muffling my whimpers.

It feels like my high goes on forever. Gianni kisses me through it, working my body as he always does, making his presence and power over me known.

It's part of why I could never get over him. Sex with others was always second best. He's the stallion in the field. Once you have him, there's no way the quarter horse will satiate you.

When my quivering isn't as violent, he mumbles between kisses, "I get you all night.However,I want you."

"I still have my wild card," I blurt out.

His lips curl. "Yes, you do. You can use it anytime after tonight." He resumes owning my mouth.

The butterflies in my stomach furiously spread their wings. The tug of war between wanting what only Gianni gives me and not letting him back into my heart reignites. I retreat and manage to warn, "Don't think this goes any further than tonight."

Hurt flashes in his eyes. Guilt shoots through me, but I remind myself I can't allow him to hurt me again. And he will. I know his game too well.

He recovers quickly. "Don't write me off so quickly."

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