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“What will you make me?” I whisper, dragging nails down his back.

“Beg,” he breathes into my ear.

Fuck.

I need him. So badly.

I want him to take me, to bend me over the couch right now and fuck me until I scream. But something inside me clamps down, refuses to let me say those words.

Stupid control!

It’s like nuclear warfare between my pussy, my heart, and my head. Each one wants something different. To be clear, they all want sex…

But my heart warns me against giving myself to this man.

My head says he is more than dangerous. That he will run the first chance he gets. Or betray us.

Fuck it.

I’m a little drunk. A lot turned on.

So I bite his lip and he lets out a deep, surprised moan.

“You make me fucking nuts, Vanya.”

“This coming from the man who drives me insane on a daily basis?” I growl right back at him, slapping his face gently with one hand, leaving it pressed there as I push him back down onto one of the couches. Settling next to him, I drag my lips down his jawline, back to his lips.

I can see how hard he is through his pants and the sight of that length makes my mouth water. I need to taste him.

But he has other plans. Pulling me on top of him, he rucks up my skirt, cupping my ass cheeks as I grind down on him, lashing his tongue with mine in a deep, intimate kiss. A shocking slap as one palm strikes my ass, then another, setting me aflame inside. Everything he does is a shock to the senses.

“You daring prick,” I whisper viciously into his lips as I take them once more, our tongues dancing. As I pull back, I tear his shirt open, popping several buttons. His chest is exactly as I remember, muscular, chiseled. My fingertips and nails explore, pebbling his smooth skin. There are some scars, more than there were when I sent him away, I know this. Some are still pink, fresh. And I am the reason he got them.

Something about that fact, and the look in his eye as I explore them, amplifies my desire.

He survived my challenge, my test.

Ciro is strong, stronger than I could imagine. And I want to feel that strength, taste that power. More than this, I want him to make me do it.

A moan slips through my lips as his fingers caress between my ass cheeks, spreading me apart and letting him know just how turned on I am.

“Fuck…you’re not wearing?—”

“Anything underneath. No.”

And I am soaked for him. Rising, I let his hands guide me as I turn, sitting down on his lap, sliding my ass along the length of him through his pants. Seeing it in the shower, feeling it in the closet at the estate, I have a sense of how big he is, but pressing into me, it feels even bigger, filling my ass cleft from my opening to my lower back.

To feel it inside me, filling me, stretching me to the limit. I almost cannot stand it, to hold back. It sends a thrill through me that is only matched by the sensation of his fingers drifting down around me as he pulls me close, slipping down between my thighs.

Two of them slip past my clit with a feather light touch, sending shivers through me before slipping so easily into me. The rush of pleasure has me gasping, tossing my head back against his shoulder.

Another hand cups up under my breasts, popping them out of my tight dress and squeezing sensually. Fingertips pinch my hardening nipples, the chilly air of the back room cooling my scalding skin.

Turning my head, I bite at his neck and he pinches harder, enough to make me cry out.

“You fucking asshole,” I growl, my hands slamming down onto his hips below me, sliding up under his shirt and then down into the waistline of his pants. I can barely get a hand underneath me, palming the shaft of his cock, gripping his balls a little too tightly.

“Who’s the asshole now?” he grunts, flexing to my touch.