Page 36

I lean in, lips pressed to his collarbone, brushing the skin there in a soft kiss. His skin is all salt, his body all male, his taste heady. My kisses trail across his chest, lingering on a scar near his ribs. He tenses, hands twitching at my hips, but he lets me lead, lets me seduce. I kiss lower, lips grazing his abs, chiseled and taut. His groan deepens.
My hands slide down, teasing the V of his hips, fingers brushing just above his cock. It’s thick, hard and straining toward me, but I avoid it, circling slowly, savoring his frustration.
“Fina,” he murmurs in a strained voice. His hands grip my hips firmly, holding back. I look up, meeting his gaze. “You’re torturing me,” he says, his Italian accent heavy. I laugh softly.
“Good,” I whisper, lips brushing his ear, breath hot. My fingers circle his nipples, pinching lightly, sparking another groan. I’m in control, and it’s intoxicating. My pussy drips, craving him, but I want to draw this out.
I press closer, my breasts grazing his chest, nipples hard through my torn gown. His hands slide up my sides, teasing my breasts’ edges, but I pull back, my eyes dancing. I kiss his throat, sucking gently, tasting his wild, erratic pulse.
His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me against him. His cock presses my thigh insistently. I shift, teasing him, egging him on. His groan is low, frustrated. My grin widens, loving his need.
My fingers find the sugar skull tattoo on his forearm, tracing its bold black lines, the blooming, yet delicate roses. It hints at the man he is underneath. Not the outer Enzo, the one he puts up for the world.
I slide my fingers across it. The gray shading dances under my touch, haunting, beautiful. I kiss it, lips lingering, tongue flicking out, tasting ink and him. He shudders. His hands slide to my ass, squeezing tightly. I make to pull back, but he grabs my hips.
“Fina,” he groans.
My restraint crumbles. I want him now.
His eyes blaze, dark, feral. He lifts me, hands rough as he pins me to the wall. I lift my legs to wrap around him, gown torn, pussy exposed, dripping wet for him.
Fuck me,” I demand, my voice raw.
He holds me in place with one hand while he grips his cock with his other hand. He teases it against my entrance, rubbing the tip along my folds in slow, deliberate motions. I moan out loud, my hips bucking, craving the length of him. The heat of his cockhead against my pussy has me on edge.
He doesn’t thrust yet. He's drawing out the torture, punishing me for torturing him. If he keeps at this, I don't know how long I can hold out for. I want his cock ramming into him. I want him to take me like an animal.
His cock slides, slick, brushing my clit, then back to my entrance. He pauses against the entrance of my pulsing pussy. I’m panting, nails digging into his shoulders. I draw blood, but I don't care. “Please,” I gasp, my voice desperate.
He smirks, holding my gaze. He nudges his cock just inside, stretching my entrance, not fully entering. I cry out, pleasure and frustration mixing. My pussy clenches around his cock, begging for his thrust. He groans, low, his control fraying. I rock my hips, trying to take him deeper.
Finally, his control shatters and he thrusts in one deep, brutal stroke. I scream, the stretch so intense I feel it all the way to my toes. It's like a thousand tiny pins pricking my skin deliciously. I close my eyes as pleasure and pain blurs. He fills me wholly, his thick cock pulsing, stretching me wide.
He’s wild, fucking me with a ferocity that jars my body, the wall hard against my back, velvet brushing my skin. Each slam rocks my body, breasts bouncing, nipples scraping the air, sweat slicking me. I’m loud, moaning, my hips rocking, meeting his every rhythm, taking every inch. His hands grip my hips, bruising, and I tilt my head back as my pleasure coils tight.
His thrusts are relentless as pounds into me hard and fast. His cock hits deep, scraping against my pussy walls, stretchingand filling. I grab his face and kiss him hard. My tongue is demanding. I bite his lip and it draws a groan from him. He continues to pound into me, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The sound of our bodies—skin slapping, my slickness coating him—is obscene and filthy. It fills the ballroom.
My pussy pulses, gripping him. His cock drags against my walls, hitting every sensitive spot, and I’m trembling, moans turning to cries. His hands slide to my ass, squeezing, angling me for deeper thrusts, and I’m lost, drowning in sensation.
I’m close, pleasure cresting, and I clench harder, pushing him over. His thrusts turn erratic, wild. His groans are raw, desperate. I kiss him again, sloppy, wet, tongues clashing. The wet slap of his balls against me drives me higher. My thighs are trembling, slick with my arousal. My nails rake his back, leaving red trails.
“Enzo,” I scream as he pounds into me with a force that jars my soul, urging on my release.
I come, a shattering muddle of moans and screams. My pussy convulses around his cock that's still pounding just as fast. It's like torrents of waves crashing, squeezing him tight.
He follows in my release. A guttural groan tears out of his mouth as his release, hot, floods me, spilling deep inside me. His thrusts slow, but he's still hitting deep, milking every pulse.
My body quakes, pleasure rippling as his thrusts ease, his cock softening inside. I’m panting, my body sweat-soaked, pressedagainst the curtain. The ballroom’s ruins feel distant and unreal—Enzo’s near-death feels like eons ago. His breath brushes my cheek, hot and unsteady.
He kisses my lips softly in a fleeting warmth that sparks heat in my chest. He pulls out, leaving me aching and empty. His hands linger on my hips, steadying me. My legs wobble as I drop them to the floor, weak from the intensity.
My room,” he murmurs. “I won't take you again like a whore. I'll take you properly in my bed.” His voice is low and I shudder at the promise in his hooded gaze. I nod, unable to speak, my throat tight. He bends, gathering my torn gown, draping it over my shoulders. The silk is cool, tattered, barely covering me, but his touch is gentle and protective as he scoops me up in his strong arms, carrying me like I’m fragile. My torn gown drags across the marble as we move through the halls.
“Sweeping me off my feet?” I say, breaking the loaded silence, a teasing lilt to my voice. His chuckle is deep and warm. “Only for you, principessa.” His smirk is wicked, sparking heat low in my belly. I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch, a smile slipping through. His playfulness disarms me, and I hate how much I like it.
The halls stretch long and the sound of his boots echo profoundly, bouncing off the walls. My gown trails, silk whispering on the floor. I’m hyper aware of his body, his strength, the way his arms flex as he's holding me close.
We reach his room, and I take it all in. It's my first time being in here. I'd kept well off from lurking even when he's not around,for fear that seeing his room will overpower my willpower. But here I am now.