Page 99 of Ruthless Grace

“I forgive you, Luca. Not because you knelt—because you handed me the truth and let me choose,” she says. “Now hold up your end of the contract, Valentino. Say it.”

I look up into her eyes from where I kneel, my hands framing her face as I hand her my absolute surrender.

“Principessa,” I whisper.

The word hangs in the air, golden, sacred, and absolute.

The moment the endearment leaves my lips, the last tether of my restraint snaps completely. I don’t wait. I stand up from the floor, my eyes locked onto hers, my hands moving with possessive, fevered authority.

I step into her space, my hands closing around the lapels of her wool coat, sliding the heavy fabric off her shoulders and letting it pool onto the concrete floor.

“Luca...” she breathes, her chest rising on a sharp intake of air.

I don’t give her time to think. I slide my right hand around the back of her neck, tilting her head back, and bring my mouth crashing down onto hers.

The kiss is dark, deep, and primitive: a starving man claiming his salvation. I taste her, my tongue tangling with hers, drinking in her sweetness while my left hand sweeps down her back, pressing her hips flush against mine. Beneath my dark trousers, my cock hammers against her stomach, stone-hard and pulsing with a fierce, unspent hunger.

Gia moans into my mouth, her hands gripping my linen shirt, pulling me closer as her body melts against mine.

I break the kiss, my lips dragging down her jawline, over the frantic pulse at her throat, down to the collarbone exposed by her emerald silk dress. I unbutton the front of her dress with efficient fingers, pushing the silk off her shoulders until her lace bra and pale skin are laid bare to my gaze.

Clipped inside her coat pocket on the floor, a roll of sterile white surgical silk ties catches the light.

I reach down, picking up the braided silk she brought from her kit. I look into her eyes, my voice dropping into a low, velvet rasp. “Hands, vita mia.”

Gia’s dark eyes burn with an intoxicating, breathless heat. She doesn’t hesitate. She raises her slender arms, crossing her wrists in front of my chest, surrendering her hands to my care.

I wrap the smooth, cool surgical silk around her wrists, securing them with a firm, reverent surgeon’s knot that holds her wrists together without cutting her skin. I lift her bound hands, loop the trailing silk over the cypress frame at the head of the leather couch, and anchor her arms above her head.

“Luca,” she gasps, her hips arching off the leather cushions as I sink onto my knees between her thighs.

“Breathe, cara,” I growl softly against her skin. “I’m worshipping my wife.”

I push her emerald silk dress up past her hips, exposing her bare thighs and her lace underwear. My mouth moves over her stomach, kissing every inch of golden skin, climbing until I reach her heart, where the neckline has slipped low enough to bare the faint, silver-pink line of her healed scar.

I press my lips to the mark, pouring my devotion into the tissue where the needle had pierced her, kissing her scar over and over until Gia lets out a sharp, breathless cry, her bound hands flexing against the silk restraints above her head.

I stand up, my breathing ragged. I unbuckle my leather belt with a single jerk, stripping my dark trousers and briefs down until my stone-hard shaft springs free into the dim afternoon light.

I lift her bare legs, draping her silk-draped thighs over my shoulders, positioning my thick, wet tip directly against her slick, swollen cunt. She is already dripping for me, her floral scent filling my lungs.

I look into her eyes, my chest heaving, my thumbs digging gently into the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Look at me, Gia.”

Gia lifts her head from the leather cushions, her eyes locking onto mine, her pupils blown wide with uninhibited desire. “Claim me, Luca.”

I drive forward in one slow, deep, relentless thrust.

She tightens around my cock like a vise, gripping me as if she will never let me go.

Gia throws her head back against the cushions, a sharp, breathless cry breaking from her lips. “Ah! God... Luca!”

I freeze inside her for two suspended heartbeats, letting her body stretch around my width, my massive hands cupping her hips, lifting her off the cushions so I can anchor myself deeper into her. Then I begin to move.

I pull back until only my tip remains inside her wet cunt, and then I drive back in—slow, heavy thrusts that make the leather couch creak against the floor.

“Fuck, Gia,” I rasp against her jaw, wrecked by the feel of her.

Clack. Clack. Clack.