Page 312 of Legacy

She’s a fucking vision.

I’ll never get enough.

The fabric drapes over her body like it was made for her—every curve, every dip, every soft, infuriating inch of her cloaked in that deep crimson silk. My color. My curse. My fucking addiction.

She stands before the mirror, lifting her hair. “Can you zip me up?”

I move behind her slowly, fingers brushing the base of her spine. “You sure you want me to touch this dress, Tesoro? You might not make it to dinner.”

She glances at me through the mirror. “We only have an hour.”

I hum low in my throat. “That’s more than enough time for me.”

My fingers catch the zipper and begin the slow pull upward, but I pause halfway. My lips find her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. She shivers.

“You wore this for me.”

“For the party,” she lies, voice already breathless.

“Liar,” I whisper against her skin, letting my teeth scrape lightly, leaving a promise. “You wanted me to lose control. You wanted to be touched.”

“Angelo…”

Her name in my mouth is a prayer and a warning. I grip her hips and press her against the dresser, hard enough to make the glass bottles on top rattle. “You’re killing me,” I mutter, burying my face in her neck. “Every time I think I’ve reached the limit of how much I can want you, you walk around like this and prove me wrong.”

“You think you get to walk around looking like this, inmycolor, in our house, and not tempt me to fuck you?”

She arches back against me, that perfect body begging to be claimed. That’s all I need.

I drag the zipper down, slower this time, the sound loud in the silence as I peel the dress from her shoulders, kissing each inch I uncover like I’m branding her. She gasps as it pools around her feet like blood on marble.

“No bra,” I tease, cupping her breasts with reverence and greed, thumbs brushing over her nipples until she whimpers. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

She huffs. “Shut up and kiss me.”

I spin her around, grip her jaw, and crush my mouth to hers. She moans into the kiss, and I swallow the sound, tasting her surrender.

I lift her onto the dresser, tearing her panties down and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. She’s already dripping, thighs trembling as I sink to my knees before her.

“Spread for me, Tesoro. Let me taste what’s mine.”

She does, shaking, so fucking beautiful it hurts.

I drag my tongue through her, slow and deep, letting her taste flood my senses, drowning me. She cries out, fingers tangling in my hair, trying to ride my face. I let her. I want her wild. I want her ruined.

“Inside,” she gasps, voice wrecked, nails biting into my shoulders as she pulls me up. “Now.”

I unzip my pants and slide into her in one hard, aching thrust. Her eyes flutter closed. My hands grip her thighs, keeping her wide open for me as I thrust deep, slow, and controlled.

“There it is,that’s what you need right?” I rasp, thrusting deep, slow, dragging every inch of my cock against her walls. “That stretch? Thatache? My cock filling every part of you, marking you. No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever get to see you like this.”

Her head falls back toward the mirror and I catch it, forcing her to look at me as I bury myself deeper.

“Eyes on me,” I command, my hand wrapping around her throat, just enough pressure to hold her there, to make her feel it. “Don’t you dare look away while I fuck what’s mine.”

She whimpers, lips trembling, eyes glassy.

“I want you to know who you belong to when you’re walking out there tonight with my come dripping down your thighs.”