Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Ginevra’s words linger in the air, haunting and raw, and her smaller frame trembles against mine. Everything she’s endured slices through my chest like a dagger, each confession digging deeper into the kernels of my heart.

Rage simmers in my gut, but I swallow down the surge. She doesn’t need my anger. She needs my protection, my acceptance, my strength. She needs a level of comfort that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Her breaths come ragged and uneven, like she’s still trapped in those memories. I trail the pad of my thumb along her soft cheek, catching a tear before it falls.

Then she leans into my touch, desperate for my comfort.

“You’re the most exquisite creature in existence,” I murmur into her hair. “And the safest. No bastard will ever insult you as long as I live.”

She nods, but there’s a reluctance in her jerky movements as if what Samson Capello has done to her has cut too deeply to be erased with words. I weave my fingers into her hair, brushing silky strands away from her face. She squeezes her eyes shut as though she’s fighting to hold herself together.

“There’s no need to be strong anymore. Not with me. Not here in our sanctuary. Let it go.”

Her eyes find mine, hesitant and red-rimmed. Doubt etches in every line of her expression, and I wonder if she’s afraid of my judgment. I hold her gaze, trying to communicate through our decades-long connection what I can’t say with words. Eventually, she lowers her lashes and releases a sigh.

“I’ve never felt so unwanted,” she murmurs. “So worthless.”

I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. “Those are the last two words I would ever use to describe you.”

“How would you describe me, then?”

No matter how much I desire Ginevra, now is not the time for passion. I need to tread lightly. Her heart is wounded, fragile, and the pain of what she’s endured is still raw.

“You’re the flame that chases away the shadows,” I say with another soft kiss on her lips. “My guiding light in a world of darkness. Samson tried to snuff you out, but a monster like him is no match for your brilliance.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers fisting my shirt like I’m the only anchor in a world that’s been spinning too fast.

“If that’s true, then why did you keep me imprisoned without clothes?” she asks.

Knots form in my gut, twisting painfully, making me grimace. I run a hand down her side, my fingers mapping the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine.

“I’m not too different from Samson Capello,” I say with a tired sigh.

She draws back to meet my eyes, her brow pulling into a frown. “What do you mean?”

“We both knew you were too good for us. Too beautiful. Too vibrant. Too innocent. Samson tried to extinguish your spark, while I tried to hoard it. I wanted to keep you hidden away where no one else could enjoy your radiance.”

“Benito,” she says, her breath catching.

“It’s true. I was just as selfish as that bastard.”

“No,” she whispers.

“I’m not afraid to admit it. Nobody in this entire world is as beautiful, intelligent, or as pure as you. You deserve better. You always did, but I’m too greedy to set you free.”

She raises a hand to cup my face, her thumb caressing my stubbled cheek. Her touch is like a balm on the guilt festering in my soul.

I wanted to keep her at arm’s length because coming close to her would only bring back old obsessions, those soul-deep longings I’ve been trying to suppress. Ginevra is my addiction, and I never want to escape.

“But I don’t need to be set free, Benito. I love you too much.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

She shivers, not from fear, but from the icy barrier around my heart beginning to shatter.

I rest my forehead against hers, savoring her sweet, honeysuckle scent. “I used to see the world in black and white, but with you in my life, I finally see colors.”

With trembling fingers, she traces my jaw, then brings her mouth to mine in a delicate kiss.

“I love your beauty,” I whisper against her lips. “I love your compassion. I love your mind. I love your soul.”

She kisses me again, this time, her lips more certain, her hunger mingling with mine. But I don’t take control. I don’t rush. I let her savor every moment, every brush of skin against skin.

“Tell me what you need,” I whisper, cradling her closer. “Anything. Just tell me.”

“Make me feel wanted,” she says, her voice breaking.

I pull her closer, letting my lips do the talking. “I’ve never wanted anyone in this world, or anything more than you,” I murmur into the kiss. “I want you more than I want my own life.”

She melts into my chest, kissing back with equal fervor, her body now responding to mine in ways it never did before. I hold her tighter, promising through every touch that she’s loved, she’s cherished, she’s mine.

I should have eviscerated Samson instead of leaving him to Seraphine and Cesare. Or at least demanded that they keep him alive long enough for me to strike the killing blow.

But he’s dead. And rage won’t fix Ginevra’s trauma. All I can do is put her back together with my love.

She lifts her head, meeting my gaze with those vibrant gray eyes. The fragility in her expression cuts deep, and I’m forced to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Benito,” she says, her voice breathy. “We still haven’t bred today.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest. Guilt winds through my broken bones and wraps around my heart like a tourniquet. My breath hitches, and my mind flashes with a kaleidoscope of sins.

I didn’t just degrade Ginevra. I engineered everything that went wrong in her life to herd her back into my clutches. I dishonored her, used her as a toy, terrorized her until she became broken, desperate, fearing for her life. When that succeeded, I ambushed her with a sham wedding, followed by days of imprisonment and breeding.

Samson Capello only defiled her body. I desecrated her soul.

“No,” I whisper, my voice thick with regret. “There will be no more breeding.”

She rears back, her eyes widening, her pretty features clouding with confusion. “But⁠—”

“You deserve more than being fucked like a broodmare. I want to make love to you.”

Shivering, she lowers her lashes. When I kiss her temple, she relaxes her shoulders and exhales a soft sigh.

Everything about her is exquisite, from the flutter of her lashes to the faint blush on her cheeks. I can picture her naked in almost every position, but today is different.

She’s no longer my possession or even my obsession. She’s sacred, a goddess I will worship for the rest of my days.

“May I?” I reach for the hem of her shirt, my fingers brushing the ivory silk.

Her fingers slip over mine, giving wordless permission. I lift her shirt, unveiling inches of creamy skin until she sits before me in just her skirt and a lacy bra. Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, almost syncing with my heartbeat.noveldrama

Maybe it’s because we’re back in our old treehouse, but being with Ginevra feels different. I take my time, letting my hands roam over her soft skin, cherishing her with the same reverence as when we were younger.

My lips brush her collarbone, her skin warm and delicate against my mouth. She shivers beneath my touch, and I savor the subtle signs of her pleasure.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in existence,” I murmur against her flesh.

She draws in a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Stop exaggerating.”

“You are,” I whisper, trailing kisses down to her chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath my lips. Reaching behind, I unhook her bra, letting it slip from her shoulders and fall away to reveal the soft curves of her breasts.

“These are the eight and ninth wonders of the world.”

She giggles. “Now, I know you’re full of shit.”

“Your breasts have featured in every fantasy since I was old enough to jerk off,” I say, pressing a kiss to her puckered nipple. “If you had a dollar for every time I stole glances at them, you’d have enough cash to buy your own casino.”

“Oh, Benito.” She arches into my mouth as I swirl my tongue around the stiffened peak. “It’s been so long since⁠—”

“Since someone made you feel wanted?” Pausing around my mouthful, I glance up at her flushed face, reveling in the way her lips have reddened.

She nods. “Yes.”

I smile against her skin, letting my lips travel lower to her stomach, savoring the warmth and the way her muscles twitch beneath my touch. “I’ll never stop wanting you. Not for a second.”

Each kiss is a whispered promise. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, pressing my lips just above her navel. “You’re safe. And you’re mine.”

She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, and I feel the faint tug, the quiet desperation in her touch.

“Benito…” Her voice wavers, and I know she needs more.

I shift down to the floor, kneeling between her legs. Slipping off her shoes, I reveal each delicate foot. My thumb traces her right arch, savoring the soft curve that leads up to her pedicured toes.

“You have the prettiest feet,” I murmur, bringing it to my lips. I kiss the big toe, then trail my mouth back down the arch and along her ankle, taking my time as she squirms beneath my touch.

My lips linger, worshiping her as she deserves. Then, I glance up, catching the flush blooming on her cheeks, and hold her gaze.

“Lift your hips,” I growl.

She does, allowing me to slide her skirt down her legs. The fabric falls away, exposing her pretty little auburn pussy. I can’t help but smirk at remembering how I didn’t supply her with panties.

Brushing one thumb over her inner thigh, I trace slow kisses up her leg. She shudders, her breath hitching with each touch, and I savor every tremor, every gasp.

“Every inch of you is beautiful,” I whisper, my lips grazing her soft sensitive skin.

She clutches my hair tighter, her hips arching toward my mouth, her breath hitching with anticipation. I trail my kisses higher, each press of my mouth a silent vow. She’s trembling, and it’s not just from pleasure—it’s from allowing herself to be vulnerable, to be seen.

Our gazes meet, sparking a powerful connection. I look down into eyes filled with fire. She’s no longer the broken woman who cried on my chest, she’s reclaiming what was taken.

“You’re my queen,” I say, my voice quickening with hunger. “Ask me and I’ll do whatever you command.”

Her gray eyes darken. “Then let me use you as my throne.”