Page 13

I nod, dazed, like some kid fighting sleep.

Nerves twist in my gut, but it’s not fear—it’s this insane thrill.

My childhood crush, towering over me, ready to wreck me.

It’s natural, primal, but my tongue’s glued.

Normally, I’m yapping too much or clamming up and never balanced.

With him, I can’t scrape together a damn thing to say.

“Are you just going to stare? Or do you no longer have the guts you showed in your text?” His voice rumbles, teasing.

“No, no, I’m just… you’re here, and I’m here, and it… I…” I’m floundering, heat crawling up my neck.

He hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Tell me what you’re fighting so hard to keep down.”

With his sincerity urging me on, I speak unabashedly. “I have a crush on you. I’ve been dying for you to fuck me stupid…”

“What else?” He’s not letting me off.

I swallow hard, no fight left. It is clear in his eyes he wants me to totally relinquish myself to him. The words pour out, easy now.

“I’m soaked for you. Dripping down my thighs.”

“Prove it.” Lust glazes his eyes, matching the haze in mine.

“Here?” I glance down the empty hall.

“Fuck yeah.”

My hands shake as I unzip my trousers, sliding them low.

I shove past the lace, fingers sinking into the slick heat between my legs.

He steps back, watching—all of me—and yeah, there’s a flicker of shame, but I don’t stop.

Legs spread, I rub my clit, teasing my folds, moaning loud enough to echo.

His gaze burns into me, and I’m lost in it.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I need your body under my hands. You’re a goddamn drug, Pen. I’m hooked already.”

“Love when you talk dirty like that,” I gasp, fingers still working. “I’ll do anything. Use me however you fucking want—please.”

“Fuck.” He grabs my hand, pulling my wet fingers free. They slide into his mouth, and he sucks them clean, eyes shut like he’s worshiping the taste. Lightning rips through me and I’m falling, hard. He opens his eyes, swipes the keycard, and growls, “Get in there right now.”

I stumble into his penthouse, him right behind, and the door slams. He strides to the kitchen bar, pouring two bourbon sours. The amber glows in the glass as he hands me one. I sip—cough—sip again, throat burning. Set it down and lock eyes with him. He downs a gulp, keeps his glass, and nods.

“Strip. Now.”

I peel everything off—trousers, top, bra, those green panties—until I’m bare, skin prickling under his stare.

He strips bare too, and fuck, there it is—tattoos sprawling across his body, down his arms, a map of ink I want to trace with my tongue.

His abs ripple, tight and begging to be touched, that V-line slicing below his navel straight to where his cock juts out, thick and hard as steel.

He’s fucking massive, and my brain short-circuits.

All I can think is how he’s going to split me apart.

There is no preamble, and no games. He drops flat on his back, sprawled like a sacrifice on the cold kitchen floor, tiles gleaming under the dim light.

He does not say a word, and does not need to.

His eyes, black as tar, scream what his mouth will not, the pure unhinged want.

In the car, he told me he is craving my pussy on his face and said he wants me to ride it until I am gushing down his chin and soaking him.

So that’s exactly what I am going to do. It is like a phantom tether, some sick silent pull dragging me to him, and I obey.

I swing a leg over, straddling his chest, my skin prickling against his heat.

I slide up slowly, deliberate until I am hovering over his face, close enough to feel his breath ghosting my wet folds.

Adriano’s hands snap to my waist, fingers sinking into my flesh, bruising, like he is terrified I will slip away from his grasp.

Then his tongue lashes out, swiping hard, licking deep, sucking my pussy like a man possessed, starved, pulling me apart with every wet drag.

I grind down, hips rocking, smearing my slickness across his mouth, his beard scraping my thighs bloody raw, the burn feeding something feral in me.

“Oh my goodness, Adriano,” I moan, picking up speed.

“Don’t stop—please, it’s so fucking good.”

He doesn’t let up, not for a second, and I’d swear it’s the most any bastard’s ever gotten right with me.

“Take me—faster, oh, like that, mmm… it’s yours, all fucking yours…”

I buck harder, chasing it, and then I’m gone—bursting into flames, shaking so bad my legs give out. When I climb off, he’s beaming, smug as hell, like he’s the one who just came all over me.

“Has anyone ever told you how goddamn perfect you look when you come? Hot enough to ruin me?”

“Adriano…” My voice cracks.

“I mean it.” He hauls me back into his arms, flipping me down until the floor bites into my spine. “Spread your legs, sweetheart. Wider. I want to feel every fucking inch of you tonight.”

“Ohhh…” It’s all I’ve got, a needy whimper.

He nudges his cock against my entrance, teasing, then starts sliding in. I gasp—sharp, ragged. He’s huge, stretching me until it stings. He’s rock hard and ready to break me open. He stops, eyes searching mine.

“You don’t want this, sweetheart?”

“I want it—God, you’ve got no idea how bad. Just… scared I won’t pleasure you right, not how you need.”

He laughs, low and dirty, then sinks his teeth into my neck. I gush wetter, dripping for him.

“You just soaked my tongue, Pen. You came so hard I’m still tasting you. That’s more than enough. I’m here with you. I’ll show you how I like it.”

“Okay.” It’s a whisper, but I mean it.

He slams his cock into me, and we both gasp like air got punched out of us. “Fuck,” he growls. “So tight, Pen—shit.”

One thrust, hips rolling slow, then another, harder. A raspy moan rips out of me, eyes fluttering shut.

“Sweetheart, eyes on me. See what your pussy does to me.”

I force them open, hands digging at his back. “Faster—please, fuck me faster.”

“Patience,” he groans, but then he moves, and I’m seeing stars. He pounds into me, tearing me apart without a word. I’m screaming, begging—stop, don’t stop, fuck me harder—all at once.

“You’re taking it so good, sweetheart. So fucking perfect. You feel—like a damn dream.”

“Oh, Adriano,” I moan, desperate. “I need this—need you, please.”

He gives it—soft one second, brutal the next until I shatter again, screaming under him, body seizing. He leans down, still thrusting relentlessly, chasing his own edge.

“You’re my good girl, huh? Say it.”

Breathless, high as hell, I mean every word. “I’m your good girl.”

“Louder—fucking scream it!”

“I’m your good girl! I’m your fucking good girl!” I’m shouting, voice hoarse.

He pulls out, hand flying over his cock for a few rough strokes, then he’s spilling his hot, thick ropes of cum, splashing across my stomach.

“I’ve got you, Pen. I’m never fucking leaving you…”

I don’t know if it’s real or if he’s just saying things he thinks I want to hear. But I don’t care. I yank him down and crash my lips into his, kissing him like I’m claiming him back.

Like a fuck you, universe. This is mine. I just fucked Adriano Vieri.