Page 34

VALENTINA

T he room feels electrified, the air between us humming with tension.

Luca’s body presses against mine, firm and unyielding, pinning me to the wall.

His hands grip my waist, sliding lower, their touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress.

My breaths are shallow, my heart pounding against my ribs as his lips find my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave my skin tingling.

“You came to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes my knees weak. His fingers skim along the hem of my dress, teasing, testing, until he pulls it up in one swift motion. The cool air brushes against my bare thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Before I can process, he’s lifting me effortlessly, carrying me to the edge of the bed.

He lowers me slowly, his eyes dark and blazing as he kneels between my legs.

His hands part my thighs, his gaze never leaving mine, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters—makes my chest tighten with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

“Luca…” I whisper, my voice trembling. He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of my thigh, his stubble brushing against my sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through me.

His lips trail higher, deliberate and unhurried, until his mouth hovers over me. The first touch is featherlight, his tongue sliding along my folds in a way that makes me gasp. My head falls back against the mattress, my fingers gripping the sheets as he begins to explore me, slow and thorough.

The pressure builds as his tongue circles, flicks, and presses against the most sensitive part of me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place when my hips buck toward him, desperate for more. The sound of his low, satisfied groan vibrates against me, adding to the heat coiling in my core.

“Oh, God,” I breathe, my voice breaking into a moan as his pace quickens, alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firm, purposeful pressure. My body arches into him, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him deeper.

“You taste incredible,” he murmurs against me, his voice a husky rasp that sends a new wave of heat crashing over me.

His tongue delves deeper, his lips sucking gently, and I’m unraveling, every nerve in my body alive and burning.

The tension in my core builds impossibly high, and when he slides a finger inside me, curling it just right, I shatter.

My cries fill the room as I fall apart beneath him, my body trembling with the force of my release. He doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers drawing out every last wave until I’m limp and breathless, utterly wrecked.

I’m still reeling when he pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes locked on mine with a wicked, satisfied smirk. He rises to his feet, his shirt already halfway undone, his chest broad and powerful as he towers over me.

“My turn,” I murmur, sitting up slowly. My hands find his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, my fingers brushing against the hard length beneath. His breath hitches, his jaw tightening as I work the button and zipper, sliding his pants down just enough to free him.

I glance up, meeting his gaze as I take him in my hand, wrapping my fingers around him.

He’s thick, hot, and pulsing in my palm, and the way he looks at me—dark, hungry, almost dangerous—makes my heart race.

I lean forward, my tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting the salt of his skin as he groans low in his throat.

“Valentina,” he growls, his voice strained, his hands tangling in my hair as I take him deeper.

I hollow my cheeks, moving slowly at first, my lips and tongue exploring every inch of him.

His breathing grows ragged, his fingers tightening as I pick up the pace, sliding him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat.

The sounds he makes are intoxicating—low, guttural groans that send heat pooling between my thighs all over again. I use my hand to stroke the base of him, matching the rhythm of my mouth, my tongue flicking and swirling in ways that make him shudder above me.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough and uneven. His hips move slightly, thrusting into my mouth, but I don’t pull away. I want this—want to feel his control slip, to know I’m the one unraveling him.

When his breaths become shallow, his groans louder, I know he’s close.

His hand tightens in my hair, and his body tenses as he spills into me, his release hot and intense.

I swallow, not breaking eye contact, and the way he looks at me—completely undone, his chest heaving—makes me feel powerful, wanted, and utterly his.

“Come here,” he says hoarsely, pulling me up into his arms, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, a silent promise of more.

Luca’s kiss is fierce, consuming, as if he can’t get enough of me. His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat between us spiraling out of control. I’m already breathless, his mouth demanding and relentless as he backs me toward the bed.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls against my lips, his voice low and raw. “Every inch of you, every sound you make, every look in those goddamn eyes.”

I barely manage to respond before he spins me around, bending me over the edge of the bed. My breath catches as his hands slide up my thighs, rough and possessive, bunching my dress at my hips. His palm lands on my bare ass, the sharp smack making me gasp, my body arching instinctively.

“Such a perfect ass,” he murmurs, his tone dark, almost reverent.

“Luca,” I start, but my voice falters as his fingers slip between my thighs, finding how wet I already am. He groans, the sound filled with hunger.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his fingers sliding over me in slow, deliberate strokes. “So ready for me. Always ready for me.”

I moan, my hands clutching the sheets as he teases me, circling the most sensitive part of me but never giving me exactly what I need. My body trembles under his touch, desperate, aching.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“Please what?” he demands, his fingers sliding inside me, curling just enough to make my knees go weak. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? Say it.”

“Yes,” I gasp, my voice breaking as he thrusts his fingers deeper, setting a rhythm that has me panting. “I want you. I need you, Luca.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers and gripping my hips. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, and my entire body tightens in anticipation.

He thrusts into me in one hard, unrelenting motion, and I cry out, my body stretching to take him. He doesn’t give me time to adjust, pulling back and slamming into me again, harder this time, filling me completely.

“You take me so fucking well,” he groans, his grip on my hips bruising as he sets a brutal pace. “Do you feel that? How deep I am? How perfectly you fit around me?”

“Yes,” I moan, my body meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room, raw and primal, matched only by the filthy words spilling from his lips.

“This pussy is mine,” he growls, his voice dark and possessive. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I cry, my voice cracking as the pleasure builds. “I’m yours, Luca. Only yours.”

“Damn right, you are,” he mutters, one hand sliding around to find my clit. He circles it roughly, perfectly, and I can’t stop the scream that rips from my throat as my body begins to tighten, teetering on the edge.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and taunting. “You’re gonna come all over my cock, just like the perfect little thing you are.”

“Yes,” I sob, my body trembling as his thrusts grow even harder, deeper, pushing me closer and closer.

“Do it,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Come for me, Valentina. Let me feel you.”

His words are my undoing. My orgasm slams into me like a tidal wave, my body clenching around him as I cry out, my hands gripping the sheets in a futile attempt to ground myself. He doesn’t slow, driving into me through the pleasure, prolonging it until I’m shaking, gasping for air.

“Good girl,” he growls, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release. With a guttural moan, he buries himself deep inside me, his hands gripping me tightly as he comes, his body trembling against mine.

For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound our ragged breathing. He collapses over me, his chest pressing against my back, his lips finding the curve of my shoulder in a soft, lingering kiss.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, and I can feel the truth in every word.