Page 14

LUCA

V alentina pulls me on top of her as we kiss.

Her breathless whispers fuel the fire building between us, and with deliberate slowness, I guide her upward, pulling her into a seated position.

I move behind her, the heat of her body against mine as I press her back to my chest. My hands trace her curves, claiming every inch, while my lips graze her neck, savoring her soft gasps that beg for more.

Sweeping her hair back from her face, I trail my lips down to the base of her neck, brushing her skin with soft, deliberate kisses. I’ve taken her with unrelenting hunger before, claimed her in ways that left her breathless. But now, I crave something deeper. Something intimate.

Her hand reaches back, her fingers weaving through my hair, sending a thrill down my spine. I chuckle low against her ear, pressing closer until my cock twitches against the curve of her ass. Her body reacts, arching slightly, and it takes everything in me to hold back.

With a teasing nip to the tender skin behind her ear, I slip an arm around her and find her nipple, rolling the taut nub between my fingers. She gasps, her back curving into me, inviting more. Every inch of her response drives me wild, my restraint fraying as my desire builds to the breaking point.

I’m impossibly hard, every nerve alive with the need to take her, to bend this breathtaking woman beneath me and claim her until she’s utterly mine. And I will—but this time, I’ll savor it, drawing out every moment until she feels the depth of my need in every deliberate, controlled thrust.

“Valentina.” My voice is low and hoarse as I say her name. The more I give her, the more she gives me , and the harder I realize—there’s something about her that hits me squarely in the chest, right under the ribs.

“Yes.”

She’s not asking; she’s telling me—demanding, with the most seductive silence, that she wants me.

A low groan escapes my throat as my lips graze her shoulder, my hand releasing her breast to grip my cock.

I drag the head over her bare, sensitive skin, teasing her, feeling her shiver beneath me.

She arches her hips, lifting her ass just enough to guide me, her silent plea spoken through her movements.

Her soft, desperate whimpers cut through the air, a siren’s call urging me forward, telling me I’m making her wait too long—and she can’t take it anymore.

“You sweet thing.” I notch myself and slowly glide in. She’s impeccably wet, so much so that she swallows my cock almost completely. I stay there for a moment, not moving, content with how her core clenches and undulates over me.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” she asks plaintively, looking sideways at me. Her tone is admonishing.

How can I tell her I’m getting carried away?

Instead, I bite down on her shoulder and earn a strangled cry as she clenches hard against my shaft. Then, I start moving, little by little, until we’re rocking together.

She’s fire and magic and all the good things in between.

I’ve known her in the chaos of urgency, in the fire of raw, unrestrained desire.

But now, I want the quiet storm—the slow and the tender.

I want to lose myself in her, to savor every delicate tremor, every whispered sigh.

I need her, bound to me, my body immersed in her warmth, discovering her all over again with each languid thrust. I want to map her depths like a worshipper, to feel the sweet ache of her surrender, and the rhythmic release that binds us tighter with every breath.

“Tell me what you want.” I want you to have it all. I can’t say that, not with how…how quickly all this has come to pass.

I can hear her smile. “I’m enjoying this.

But you could…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but takes my hand and slides it down her stomach, between her legs, already parted to my thrusts.

Her moans pierce through me as I stroke and fuck her at the same time.

I can almost feel her clit throb as I press on and around it.

Her chuckle accompanies her head flinging back, her back bowing as I seem to hit a spot that makes her quake. Now, her chest heaves like she can't catch her breath, and I refuse to change a thing I'm doing. “Fucking sweet.”

She wriggles against me, and I groan into her ear. “Keep doing that. Grind that pussy back on my cock.”

Valentina does just what I tell her. I let a finger reach in, with my cock still inside, moving faster now. She groans as I drive into her. “Fuck yes!”

I need more—need everything. With a swift motion, I pull out and deliver a sharp, stinging smack to her ass, the sound cracking through the air and drawing a gasp from her lips. I guide her up, positioning her on all fours, her back arched and ready for me.

Gripping her hips, I tease her entrance with the tip of my cock, pressing in slowly, savoring every inch as I claim her.

She pushes back, desperate, taking me fully until I’m buried to the hilt.

Her fingers grip the bed, knuckles white, as I move in slow, deliberate strokes, each one deep and possessive.

My breath grows ragged, the slick heat of her walls clutching me tighter, pulling me deeper, until the room is filled with the sound of our bodies moving in perfect, unrelenting rhythm.

“Oh my God, yes!”

I fist her hair, pulling her head back with just enough force to make her gasp, the perfect balance of control and surrender.

Each thrust drives into her, the raw, wet sound of my cock slamming into her filling the room, echoing off the walls like a primal symphony.

The world outside dissolves, fading into nothing as our movements become everything—rough and tender, desperate and deliberate.

The boundaries between us blur in a haze of heat and hunger as I claim her, as she takes me, as we lose ourselves in the relentless rhythm of possession and release.

At some point, I turn her so she is down on the bed.

She twists in my arms, turning to face me, her eyes dark and wild, lips parted, desperate.

I crash my mouth against hers, our kiss frenzied, teeth grazing, tongues tangling.

Her nails dig into my shoulders as I lift her, pressing her against the wall, her legs wrapping tightly around my waist.

“I need you,” she breathes, her voice raw, almost a growl, and that’s all it takes. I position myself, and with one hard thrust, I’m inside her, burying myself in her heat. She cries out, clutching me closer, her body meeting mine with equal hunger.

The room is full of the sounds of our bodies colliding, of ragged breaths and desperate moans.

I drive into her, harder, faster, her nails raking down my back, leaving marks I’ll wear like trophies.

She clings to me like I’m her only anchor, and I’m lost in her—her scent, her taste, her unrelenting need.

It’s madness, a frantic, primal rhythm that consumes us both. The world narrows to this moment, to the way she feels around me, the way her cries grow louder with every thrust, and the way her body tightens as she begins to fall apart.

And when she does, when her moans turn to screams and her body shakes with release, I follow, giving her everything, claiming her completely in a final, desperate surge of pleasure that leaves us both trembling, spent, and utterly wrecked.

Her lips begin trembling as I slowly pull out and stroke her hair. And then, before I can gauge what’s happening, she bursts into tears.

“Valentina,” I say, pulling back just enough to see her face. Her wide, dark eyes meet mine. “What is it?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers, but her voice betrays her. It wavers like thin glass under pressure, and the tremor in her hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re lying,” I say simply.

She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. My hands stay firm on her waist, grounding her, keeping her where I can see her. Whatever this is, it’s not something I’m letting her carry alone.

“Valentina,” I repeat, softer this time but no less resolute, “talk to me.”

Her breathing hitches, and she glances away, her gaze darting to the bandage on my side. The graze stings, but it’s nothing compared to the tightening in my chest as I watch her struggle to form words.

Her hands rise, tentative, shaking. And then she touches the edge of the bandage, her fingertips grazing the spot where blood still clings to my skin.

The gesture is so light, so careful, but her touch sends a shiver through me—not of pain, but something far more visceral.

“I got a call,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hit like a warning shot, sharp and brimming with unspoken weight.

“What kind of call?” I demand, my attention narrowing entirely on her.

Her whole body shakes as she presses her hand flat against my side, her warmth bleeding through the bandage. “They—” She swallows hard, her gaze snapping back to mine, filled with anguish. “They said they’d help me escape, give me everything I’d need—papers, money, freedom.”

The knot in my gut tightens, but I keep my expression still. “Go on.”

Her voice cracks. “All I’d have to do is kill you, Luca.”

She looks up at me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, and for a moment, the room feels suffocatingly quiet. The silence is a weapon, one I wield as I stare at her, letting her words sink in. She doesn’t look away, even though I can see the fear twisting through her.

“They want you dead,” she continues, her hand trembling against my side. “They said... it would be easy. That when you—when you’re weakened by love, I could...”

She trails off, unable to finish, but I don’t need her to. I already know.

The fire in my chest flares, burning hotter than the graze on my side. There’s no room for doubt, no hesitation. I wrap my hand around her wrist, gently but firmly pulling it away from the bandage.

“Is that what you want, Valentina?” I ask, my voice even, quiet—but it’s the kind of quiet that turns storms into catastrophes. “Freedom, at the cost of my life?”

Her lips part, but no words come out at first. She shakes her head, her breath hitching. “No,” she says, the word breaking as it leaves her throat. “No, I could never?—”

“Then why are you shaking?” I cut her off, my grip tightening slightly on her wrist.

Her tears spill over, one sliding down her cheek.

“Because I hate this. I hate that they think I’m capable of it.

I hate that I’m stuck in this world where they even see me as a pawn in their game.

I hate—” She stops herself, her breathing shallow, and when her eyes meet mine, there’s nothing but devastation in them.

“I hate that I don’t know who I am anymore. ”

For a moment, I forget the ache in my side, the betrayal still fresh from the warehouse. All I see is her, terrified, furious, breaking apart in my arms. “Valentina,” I say, and my hand moves on its own, cradling her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “You’re not a pawn. Not to me.”

Her laugh is bitter, choked. “Aren’t I? Isn’t that all I am in this marriage?”

“No.” My voice is sharp. “You’re my wife. And no one—not them, not anyone—will use you against me. Do you understand?”

Her tears fall faster now, but she nods.

I pull her closer, pressing my forehead against hers, forcing her to feel the weight of my words.

“Good,” I murmur. “Because anyone who threatens you, anyone who thinks they can touch you or twist you into their weapon, will learn exactly what it means to cross me. You’re mine, Valentina. And I don’t share.”

Her breath hitches again, but this time it’s not from fear.

I can feel the shift, subtle but undeniable, in the way her body relaxes slightly in my hold.

And even as the storm rages within me, I feel her quiet resolve wrapping itself around the chaos.

I let her go, slowly, deliberately. But when I speak again, there’s no room for argument.

“You’ll tell me everything about that call,” I say. “Every detail.”

No one—no one—takes what’s mine.