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“Still you, because you won’t let me—” I lose all track of what I’m saying as he closes one hand around my neck, the other curling deeply inside me, pressing into the sweetest spot. I’m fucking helpless in his grasp, my legs locked around the outside of his, my hands pinned between us. The lack of control is…

Fucking delicious.

Waves of pleasure ripple through me, as much from the thought of him dominating me as the feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of me. The palm of his hand rubs against my front, tantalizing the apex of my pleasure, zinging jolts of ecstasy up my spine, into my toes and fingertips.

“Damn you, Diamante…”

“Ah, ah,” he growls into my ear, circling those fingers in a spiral, making my brain melt.

Each time I try to speak, to fight back, he changes the pace, the pressure, and I’m reeling. It’s going to make me lose my mind if I do not come soon.

A moaning growl escapes my lips as another torrent of bliss rolls through my core.

“You feel incredible.”

“You have no idea,” I grit through my teeth.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It sounds like a promise. I am going to kick your ass if you do not fuck me!”

“Not yet. I need you to do two things first.”

Another shuddering cry blasts out of me and he tightens his grip on my torso with his arm, his fingers massaging my neck and jaw.

“What?”

“I want you to ask me, to beg me. And I want you to come.”

“How dare you talk to me like that?” The words are barely audible, my incredulity lost in the swells of torturous pleasure.

“How dare you drag me into this back room and expect me to be your fucking play toy?” he snaps right back. “You think you own me?”

“I think you want me to.”

“Only after I make you mine.” His voice barely makes a sound, so soft that I am not sure I heard him over my heaving chest.

But whether he said it or not, I am melting in his hands. Coming undone.

No one has ever done anything like this to me. Taken me and made me come.

And I want to fight it, to drive my desire higher, my anger and lust. But my body and my heart are lost in the undertow of Ciro Diamante.

I am his, at least for tonight.

For this moment.

If I could move, I would rip his pants down, drive my hips over him and take every inch of him inside me. Ride him until he fills me with his love.

Instead, I am trapped, holding on for dear life as my legs begin to quiver and quake.

Every attempt to please him is moot. Any attempt to do anything but bite my lip and wait for the rush is pointless.

The intense rapture surging through my core is scintillating, mind-blowing. He knows exactly where to touch me, how to spread me apart, how to push my button. Literally.

It’s almost infuriating how good he is.

His breath on my neck adds another layer to the ascent, another sensation to consume me.