By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers 3)

I let out a laugh. “Sophisticated sexiness? I never thought the day would come that my brooding, sarcastic bodyguard talks like that.”

“I never thought the day would come that you’d pick out the dress for your wedding to Cliffy.”

Silence spread between us like a suffocating layer of ash after a volcano eruption. “Why not?” My voice was strangely tight.

His gaze seemed to undress me. My own eyes traveled over his muscled chest. My body erupted with goose bumps and a familiar heat gathered between my legs. I focused on my body’s reaction to him, desperately trying to ignore my heart. I desired Santino. Desire was easy to handle. Easy to satisfy. So much easier than a heart’s longing.

I didn’t want to want Santino. He’d been meant as a way to have fun before marriage. An uncomplicated and safe way to enjoy myself.

And damn had I enjoyed myself.

Santino gave me a slow, confident smile that suggested he knew exactly what I was thinking. It was the smile that always made me weak in the knees and annoyed me endlessly at the same time. Only Santino could do that.

“Do you want a few last orgasms before you’ll have to experience mediocre coitus with Cliffy?”

His words stung, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it. Maybe he was pissed that I was marrying Clifford. But I’d never lied to him. He’d known the rules of our bond from the start. Or maybe it was his way of coping with this impossible situation that was taking a toll on both of us.

“You would really fuck another man’s bride in her wedding dress?”

Santino pushed away from the door and stalked toward me. My insides tightened with desire at the fire in his eyes. “I’ve done far worse, Cheri.”

Santino’s French was still horrid and I knew he kept it that way to annoy me. “I don’t doubt it.”

He stopped right in front of me and stared down at me. He reached beneath my short dress hem until he found my panties. I’d asked the seamstress to shorten the dress in the front a bit to make it a bit more individual, now it gave Santino better access.

I clamped up. “Santino, I need to wear these panties on my wedding day.”

His smile became sinfully challenging. “And you don’t want poor Cliffy to pull down panties that your lust for me has tainted before? Give them a good wash. He won’t know.”

I glared.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t insult Cliffy like that.”

“If it were up to you, you’d put a bullet in his head.”

“If it were up to me,” he murmured as he got down on one knee. He grabbed my panties and slowly pulled them down, his eyes daring me to say stop.

Instead, I helped him by lifting my feet. He neatly folded the flimsy piece of clothing and put it down on the ground beside him. Then he reached under my dress again, gripping my ass and his head dove under the skirt. His tongue dove between my folds.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my hands coming to rest on his head through the layers of my skirt. The vendor wouldn’t come back unless I asked her but this was still risky, pure madness, and felt wrong on a level I couldn’t put into words.

I watched myself in the mirror, the hazy lust in my eyes, my heaving chest and rosy cheeks. Then my gaze dropped to Santino’s half-hidden form—hidden beneath my wedding dress. A bitter smile twisted my mouth. Many years ago, I’d condemned Santino and the cheating wives for what they did, and today I let Santino eat me out in my wedding dress, only one month before my wedding. Was I really that different?

Maybe he hadn’t cared if I had other men before our wedding but I doubted he’d be happy to find out I’d fucked another man in the panties and dress I’d chosen for our wedding. I shoved the thought aside. I didn’t want to think about it now.

Santino graced my clit with his teeth, making me gasp. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about Cliffy while I lick your pussy.”

Not in the way he suggested. I’d probably imagine Santino for the rest of my life when Clifford and I were intimate.

“Don’t stop,” I said softly, almost pleadingly.

Santino breathed out before he slipped his tongue along my slit once more. We didn’t talk anymore and Santino’s mouth and tongue were almost careful and reverent in their exploration. This felt like a goodbye. Would every sex feel like goodbye now? Every touch soaked in wistfulness?

Santino’s finger brushed my lower lips apart while his lips cupped my clit gently. Only the tip of his finger teased my opening, slowly circling it. I clung to his head desperately, but never took my eyes off my reflection.