His breath is hot against the back of my neck.It’s ragged and heavy.Controlled only because he’s forcing it to be.His hand slides down my stomach, fingers spreading across the slick mess between my thighs, feeling where we’re joined, where his cock is still buried deep in my pussy.
“You come for me again,” he mutters, voice wrecked and low, “and I’ll make you say my name this time.”
“I’d rather choke on it,” I pant, as the aftershocks still roll through me.
“Be careful what you ask for, Bella,” he snarls, voice dripping with dark promise.“You don’t know how rough I play when I’m given permission to make someone choke.”
He pulls out, the emptiness is a punishment, and I hate the whimper that escapes me at the loss.
He grabs me by the waist and flips me around, my back slamming into the cold marble counter hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.My legs are yanked open as he steps between them, spreading me wide.His cock glistens with my wetness, thick and angry and demanding.
Lorenzo leans down, one hand gripping my jaw hard enough to leave a bruise, thumb sliding across my bottom lip where I bit down earlier.
“Say it.”
I glare up at him through my lashes, still defiant.“Say what?”
“That you want me.”
I smirk, tasting blood and rebellion.
“I don’t want you.But I’ll take your cock to get myself off.I’ll use you the same way you use me.So stop talking and fuck me already, or get the hell out of my way so I can finish the job myself.”
His eyes flare—a dangerous and possessive flicker shining in those dark depths.Something that appears almost feral.
He thrusts his cock back in, and I experience every thick inch stretching me open.The burn is exquisite, the fullness overwhelming, and I can’t stop the moan that spills from my lips.When I force my eyes open to glare at him, to salvage some shred of dignity, I find him watching my face.
His eyes are fixed on mine, dark and intense, examining every flicker of pleasure that crosses my face.Every gasp.Every tremor.He’s memorizing me, cataloging each reaction as he fills me completely.
He pulls back slowly, then pushes in again, establishing a rhythm that’s still intense but no longer punishing.Still possessive, but somehow different.His gaze never leaves my face, observing how my lips part, how my eyes threaten to roll back, how my breath catches in my throat.He’s watching me unravel beneath him with an intensity that is more dangerous than anything he’s done to me so far.Because this isn’t just fucking anymore.This is something else entirely.
He leans forward and pauses for a second while buried deep inside me.His mouth finds mine again, but this time it’s different.
His lips soften.The pressure fades and is replaced by something gentler.The kiss remains heated and full of need, but the violence has dissipated.It’s the first time he’s kissed me without trying to own me, without attempting to conquer, claim, or dominate.
There is no war in his grip or battle in the press of his mouth.
My breath catches in my throat and my fingers curl into his shirt, gripping tightly because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.I don’t know how to react, or what to do with this version of him.I only recognize the one who fucks with brutal precision and fights with fists and words.The one who wears violence as comfortably as his tailored suits.
But this is...unfamiliar territory.It’s a crack in the armor I wasn’t supposed to discover.
His forehead falls to mine, our breath tangling in the tight space between us.His eyes flicker open, burning into me, but there’s something different now.Something bruised and vulnerable beneath all that steel and shadow.
“I don’t want you afraid in my house,” he murmurs, voice rough and low.
I swallow hard.
It’s too late for that now because I’m no longer afraid of his hands, threats, or the darkness that lingers around him.
I’m worried about what this implies.
Of what this softness could do to me if I let it in.What he becomes when he stops pretending he doesn’t feel.And worse, what I become when I start to want more of it.
He starts to move again, fucking me with heat and fire.
Each thrust hits that perfect spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.The rhythm is relentless but controlled, powerful without being violent.His cock drives into me again and again, stretching me, filling me, claiming me in a way that is different from before.There’s still possession in every movement, still raw need in the way he grips my hips.
My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and he groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through both of us.His hips roll and grind, hitting angles that make me gasp.