Page 119 of Lovely Venom

I head straight for my closet, stripping down and changing into my nightgown. But when the silky material scrapes against my sensitive nipples, it only adds to my frustration.

“I guess I’ll just use my vibrator,” I call through the open door as I flop onto my bed.

“Enjoy that, principessa,” he replies.

God, that man is infuriating.

There’s no way I’m inviting him into my bed. We’ve already crossed too many boundaries as it is. I spent the entire night in his arms at Sanctum. I’ve touched him in ways I’ve never touched a man. And tonight, he practically announced our engagement—which is definitely not real.

I can’t give him more of myself than I already have.

That thought lingers, but the longer I consider it, the more I try to rationalize the alternative.

I’ve already let him come inside me. The consequences of that could far outweigh the emotionally gray area of letting him into my private space. So what does it matter at this point, really?

I groan in annoyance as I pull out my vibrator. It feels like I’m settling for fast food when I have a five-star meal down the hall. And as I stare at it, I know the lesser option won’t satisfy this craving.

Resigned to my fate, I return the vibrator to the drawer and make the walk of shame back to the living room. When I meet Cristian’s self-satisfied gaze, I sigh.

“You can consider this your official invitation into my bed.”

He arches a brow at me.

“What?”

“Manners, baby,” he drawls.

I don’t want to admit how much I like it when he calls me that, but I still take a few seconds to act like I’m thinking about it.

“Ask me nicely,” he says.

I really have to stop doing everything he tells me just because he uses that voice. Regardless, I walk over to him and crawl onto his lap, as soft and sweet as I can be when I press my lips to his ear.

“Will you please come fuck me, Mr. Vitale?”

He rumbles his approval, hands sliding over my hips as he grinds me down onto his cock.

“Much better.”

That dark, sinful voice drives me wild because it feels like a secret just between us. Around everyone else, he’s the same cold and controlled man I’ve known for years. But now that we’re alone, the filthy, dominant side of him belongs to me.

“You really are a math nerd,” I tell him as he picks me up and carries me down the hall.

“Does that get you hot, gattina?” He tosses me onto the bed and strips off his shirt and tie. “You want me to talk numbers while I fuck you?”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

I really did like seeing him in his element. I always knew he was calculating and intelligent, but there’s something so attractive about a man who’s the best at what he does. His analytical brain is like catnip to me, and I might not understand half the things he’s saying, but I could still listen to him explain it all day.

The thought alone has me crawling across the bed toward him. Before I can really comprehend what I’m doing, I sink to the floor, kneeling in front of him as I reach for the waistband of his trousers.

Circling the button with my thumb, I lift my eyes to find him watching me with a gaze so hot it could melt my insides.

I like to undress him, and I think he likes it too.

Working the button free, I drag down his zipper and stroke him through the fabric of his briefs. His hand slides through my hair, fingers pressing into my scalp as a hunger I can’t rationalize carries me away.

When I unwrap his throbbing cock and bury it in the back of my throat, his answering groan settles right between my thighs.