His fingers curled, his thumb pressed, and Eve shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She screamed his name like he'd commanded, her body convulsing, her nails digging into his shoulders through his expensive shirt.
He worked her through it, prolonging it, until she collapsed against his chest, gasping and boneless.
"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "So fucking beautiful when you let go."
She couldn't respond. Could barely think. Her entire world had narrowed to the feeling of his arms around her and the aftershocks still rolling through her body.
"That," he said quietly, "was just the beginning."
She lifted her head, confused. "Beginning?"
"You asked me to show you what you've been missing." His smile was dark. "We've barely started."
Before she could process that, he was standing, lifting her with him like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.
"Where are we going?"
"I have a bedroom attached to this lounge." He carried her through a door she hadn't noticed. "And we're going to use it."
The room was all dark wood and masculine luxury. And in the center, a massive bed.
He set her on her feet beside it, and she swayed, still drunk on alcohol and orgasm.
"Strip," he commanded.
"What?"
"Take off your dress. I want to see all of you."
Her hands shook as she reached for the zipper, but she did it. The dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her black lace bra and matching panties.
Dimitri's eyes raked over her like a physical touch, and she resisted the urge to cover herself.
"Fuck, you're perfect."
"I'm not...."
"Yes. You are." He stepped closer, his hands spanning her waist. "Say it."
"I'm perfect?"
"Again."
"I'm perfect."
"Whose perfect girl are you?"
Oh. Oh.
"Yours," she whispered. "I'm your perfect girl."
"Yes, you are." His hands slid up her back, unclasping her bra. "And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."
The bra fell away. Then he was guiding her backward, laying her on the bed, following her down.
His mouth found her breast, tongue swirling around her nipple, and she arched into him with a moan.
"So responsive," he murmured against her skin. "I'm going to enjoy teaching you exactly how good it can be."
"Teach me," she breathed.
''Oh trust me piccola, i will''
And he did.
His mouth mapped every inch of her body, finding places she didn't know were sensitive. Behind her knee. The inside of her wrist. The spot where her neck met her shoulder.
By the time he hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down her legs, she was already trembling again.
"Spread your legs for me, piccola."
She did, shameless in her need.
He settled between her thighs, and the first touch of his tongue made her cry out.
This was nothing like the quick, awkward oral sex Simon had occasionally attempted. This was worship. Devotion. A man who knew exactly what to do and took his time doing it.
Dimitri licked and sucked and nibbled, alternating between gentle and rough, learning her body's responses. When he added his fingers again, she came apart for the second time, this one somehow even more intense than the first.
"Please," she gasped when she could speak again. "I need... I need you inside me."
He lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal. "Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because you're drunk, and when I fuck you for the first time, I want you sober enough to remember every second."
"But..."
"No." He kissed his way up her body. "Tonight, I make you come on my tongue and my fingers. Tomorrow, when you're sober, you can have my cock."
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair, cara." He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was sprawled across his chest. "But I'll tell you what. Tomorrow, you come to me sober, and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Deal?"
She should say no. Should tell him this was a one-time thing, a mistake fueled by alcohol and heartbreak.
But looking into his eyes, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath her, she couldn't.
"Deal," she whispered.
"Good girl." He stroked her hair. "Now sleep. You're safe here."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You're still..." She gestured vaguely at his very obvious erection.
"I'll survive. This is about you, not me."
She wanted to argue, but exhaustion was pulling at her, the combination of alcohol and orgasms making her eyelids heavy.
"Dimitri?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For making me feel wanted."
His arms tightened around her. "You are wanted, Eve. More than you know."
She fell asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than she had in years.
She didn't see him pull out his phone.
Didn't hear him make a call.
Didn't know he was arranging for legal documents to be prepared and brought to the lounge within the hour.
Because Dimitri Valentino was many things...ruthless, possessive, morally gray....but he was also a strategist.
And he'd just been handed the opportunity of a lifetime.
Eve Thorne, drunk and vulnerable and desperate to belong to someone.
He'd give her exactly what she asked for.
And in the morning, she'd realize she'd signed away far more than she ever intended.