We head to the car and he opens the door for me, sliding in on his side. I buckle up, start the car, and glance at him.
“Why are you mad, Gio?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but I feel the weight of his stare on me.
“Why do you still have his contact if you know he doesn’t see you as a friend?” His voice is low, dangerous, eyes locked on mine.
That’s a good question.
“Because it doesn’t bother me. I always have my phone on DND—so his messages don’t go through,” I say.
He opens his mouth, like he’s about to speak, but I cut him off. “But if it bothers you, I can block him.” I grab my phone from him and do it.
“Done,” I say, holding up my phone and smiling at him. He doesn’t respond.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, swing over, and straddle him.
“Sierra…” His warning is low, rough.
“Why are you mad over this?” I challenge, leaning down, face inches from his. He looks away.
I grab his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet mine. I start kissing him, all over, soft then deep, marking him with my lips. “Remember,” I murmur, lips brushing his, “I’m yours, Gio.”
I move against him lightly, testing the fire in him. He groans. I smile against his lips. “All yours, baby.”
“I know you’re all mine,” he growls, deep in his chest. I stop, hovering, studying his face. “So… why be mad over this?”
“Because I don’t want any other man touching you. No one. Ever. But you’re perfect… so it’s pointless. I’d kill anyone who tried,” he says, eyes dark, tracing my lips with his stare.
I smirk, grabbing his face. “You don’t have to worry. You’re my man. That’s all that matters.”
He lets out a rough, low moan, hands gripping me tighter. “You see how you make me feel?” he mutters, pressing into me.
I grin and slide my hand down, letting him feel a taste of the fire he ignites in me. “And this… is how you make me feel,” I whisper.
“Fuck… you’re the death of me,” he breathes, lips crashing onto mine. We kiss, move, the car filled with the sound of our shared heat.
“Baby,” he groans.
“Let’s go eat, princess,” he says after a moment, finally pulling back, voice still thick with tension.
“Mhm,” I reply, biting my lip as I slide off him. He watches every movement, eyes dark, threatening.
We keep a charged silence until he breaks it. “Let’s go eat… before I fuck you right here, non-stop.”
I can’t help the smirk. I glance at his obvious hardness. “As if I wouldn’t like that.”
He gives me that look—dark, ‘really?’—and mutters my name like it’s a curse.
“Baby?” I tease, knowing full well how it drives him wild.
It’s Friday, and we’re heading to dinner. Gio said he wants to meet my family. I’m nervous, but he’s tense, possessive, protective, and that makes my heart pound.
He brought clothes to my house and is in the shower. I wrap a towel around me, going through my hair routine with music softly playing.
Once I finish, I put on mascara, dry my hair, and step out. Gio emerges, towel around his waist. I stop, swallowing hard. He looks… dangerously sexy, like he knows the effect he has on me.
He locks eyes with me, walking over, pressing a kiss to my lips. I feel his intensity before he even touches me.
I slip into my dress, noticing him watching. Black pants, nothing on top, tying his shoes.
I then feel his gaze “You’re looking at me naked… getting hard… and we end up doing nothing. So I suggest you stop,” I whisper, feeling the tension spike.
He chuckles low, dangerous. Walks over, helping me with my dress, kissing my neck, fingers brushing dangerously close.
“Gio, no!” I say, half-laughing, half-moaning.
“I’m not doing anything, my love. Just… kissing you,” he murmurs, stepping back, eyes smoldering.
“Fucking bitch,” I mutter, smirk tugging at my lips.
“I heard that,” he says, voice dark, amused, dangerous.
I tease him anyway, putting on my dress, jewelry, letting my gaze linger. “Let me help you with your tie.”
I brush against him, lean in close, lips grazing his neck. “Mm… you smell so good, handsome.”
He groans low in response. “If you don’t want to be late… don’t tease me, Angel.”
I laugh softly, kiss him once more, and pull back. The tension between us hasn’t eased—it’s thick, heavy, almost suffocating, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
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