“You’re close.” In more than one way. “A few more kills, and then you can come.”
She shudders. “I-I can’t hold on.”
“You can.” I pinch her clit until she gasps, one of her hands slapping the desk in response. I lift her almost all the way off my cock before pulling her back down. Her insides drag blissfully. “You’re nearly done.”
Her fingers smash the keyboard faster, harder, her determination to finish the level chaotic but effective gameplay. I lift her up and shove her down, matching my speed to her kills. Her cries grow louder, my grip on her hair the only reason she’s still facing the screen.
At last, she’s declared the winner by the game and beats her earlier record. She sighs with anticipation.
And me? I growl with pleasure, lifting her off me, turning to rest her ass on the desk. I climb to my feet and thrust back inside her, looping my arms around her thighs and pounding into her hard.
“Feel me rewarding you,printessa.You were so, so good. My perfect little player.Blyat,you have no idea how sexy that was.”
Her head falls back, hair sliding over my keyboard. Her cries get loud enough to be heard above, but I don’t care about the repercussions. Not anymore.
Not when she’s mine like this.
“Feel me inside you? This is all for you. What you’ve turned me into. You’re so close. Let me feel you,printessa.I need it—needyou. Need you to calm my mind.”
She comes with a near scream, her head rolling forward until she’s also kissing me. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, but she’s so fucking delicious. Her pussy clenches me impossibly tight, and I thrust a final time, coming deep inside her.
For a while, I remain, comforted by the place quickly becoming home. When her grip on my shoulders relax, I slide out of her, brushing her cheek to mentally tell her everything my head is too scared to admit aloud.
With a sated smile, she drags her hand through my hair. “I should get cleaned up. Can I come back afterwards?”
“I want you to.”
She grabs her clothing, redresses quickly, and kisses my cheek on her way by.
It’s these memories that’ll come with me to the church in a few days and not the one of her gripping that dress like it’ll bring her death.
Her death.
My death.
Vitale’s death.
At this rate, it’s a gamble.
52
SERAFINA
Iblinked, and now we’re here.
Wedding day. Also known as the final day Alessio Vitale will breathe.
None of it feels real, and we haven’t even begun yet. It sets the day up for every way this will go wrong.
Vanessa, Anastasia, and I are locked in a back room of the church to get ready. The hairdresser and makeup artist Alessio hired recently left. He’s covered every basis when it comes to my appearance, accepting nothing less than his version of perfection.
The reflection in the mirror is a stranger.
A girl—a woman, I suppose—on what should be the happiest day of her life, except she’s actually minutes away from a death march. Despite the dark colours the makeup artist framed my eyes with‘to brighten the blue’, they’re dull. The soft pink she painted my cheeks was meant to make me a blushing bride, but my miserable expression counters her effort.
Vanessa comes up behind me, dressed in a slinky black dress, and skates her hand through the curls the hairdresser insisted on, loosening them into something more natural, something thehairdresser flat-out refused to do, even after Vanessa threatened her. Apparently, Alessio already did that enough for us all, and he won.
She shifts my hair back, bringing attention to the teardrop jewellery: the earrings that hang two inches from my ear, the necklace adorning my chest, drawing a line to where the sweetheart neckline of the dress begins.
