Page 8

VALENTINA

T he dress falls to my feet like a puddle of snow, until I am wearing nothing but a set of lace bra and panties. Luca relinquishes his hold on me and turns, giving me time to soak in my surroundings.

The room drips with opulence, but it’s more than that, it’s a stage.

Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the glittering city below, its golden lights twinkling against the darkness like stars scattered across velvet.

A soft breeze wafts in through the slightly open glass, rustling the sheer curtains and bringing with it the faint hum of life outside.

The rest of the room is all rich, dark wood and sleek furniture, every detail designed to command attention and awe.

But none of it compares to him.

Luca now leans against the edge of the table, a single glass of deep red wine in his hand.

The bottle sits beside him, its label elegant and understated, the kind of vintage that speaks of wealth so ingrained it doesn’t need to boast. His suit jacket is gone, leaving him in just his crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms.

He doesn’t speak at first. He simply watches me, his green eyes sharp, assessing. He doesn’t need words to fill the space; his presence does that on its own.

“Come here,” he says finally, his voice low and commanding, a dark melody that coils around me and pulls me forward before I even realize I’ve moved.

I step closer, the soft click of my heels swallowed by the plush carpet. My throat is dry, my heart pounding against my ribs. There’s something about the way he holds himself, the quiet dominance in his every move, that leaves me breathless and unsure whether I want to run or lean in closer.

Luca holds up the glass of wine, turning it slightly so the light catches the liquid, making it glow like molten rubies.

“This,” he says, his tone smooth and deliberate, “is from a vineyard I own. One of my best. A wine like this… it demands patience. Respect.”

His gaze flickers to mine, and I know he’s not just talking about the wine.

“Do you know how to taste it?” he asks, his voice softening but losing none of its weight.

I shake my head, unable to trust my brain to form coherent words.

He smirks, a slow, teasing curve of his lips that sends heat rushing to my cheeks. “Let me teach you.”

Luca moves towards me, the glass still in his hand. He raises it to his lips and takes a slow sip, his throat working as he swallows. My throat is incredibly dry.

He steps even closer.

And then, without warning, he cups my chin with his free hand, tilting my face up to meet his.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs.

I do as he says, my breath hitching as he leans in.

His lips brush against mine, soft at first, testing.

Then he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I taste the wine immediately, rich and bold, with notes of dark fruit and spice.

It’s intoxicating, and not just because of the flavor.

His hand tightens slightly on my chin, holding me in place as he takes his time, exploring, savoring. He leaves no doubt about who’s in control.

When he pulls back, I’m left breathless, my lips tingling, my pulse racing.

“Now you’ve tasted it,” he says, and the mere rumble of his voice warms me from within. I’m light-headed, and it has nothing to do with the wine.

I blink up at him, struggling to find words. “It’s… bold,” I manage, my voice a whisper.

Luca chuckles throatily. “Good. You’ll need to be bold tonight.”

He steps back, but not far, his presence still looming over me as he sets the glass on the table.

“Do you want another taste?” he asks, his tone teasing but undercut with something darker, more dangerous.

I can’t tell if he means the wine or him.

I glance at the table, then back at him. The candlelight catches on the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that only make him look more powerful, more untouchable. And yet, he’s right here, close enough to touch, close enough to leave me reeling.

“I…” The word falters on my tongue as he steps closer again, his hand brushing against my waist.

“Say yes,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over my ear.

The air between us is electric, every nerve in my body alive and buzzing. I know what he’s doing. He’s testing me, pushing me to see how far I’ll let him go, how far he can pull me into his world.

And the worst part?

I want to say yes.

Instead, I take a small step back, trying to catch my breath. “I don’t need you to pour wine into my mouth, Luca,” I say, although I know I’m fighting a losing battle. “I can drink it myself.”

His smirk returns, slow and knowing, as if he expected that answer.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice a soft purr. “But it tastes better this way. Trust me.”

He steps even closer, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek. The heat of his touch seeps into my skin, melting the last of my resolve. I remember how he took care of all I have left as family. There was no need, but he did it anyway.

My lips part before I can think, before I can summon even a shred of resistance.

His mouth crashes against mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. His lips are warm and demanding, molding mine to his will, and I find myself leaning into him, my hands clutching the edge of the table behind me for balance.

His tongue sweeps against my lower lip, a question and a demand all at once. I let him in, my head tilting back as he deepens the kiss. The aftertaste of wine floods my senses, rich and heady, mingling with the dark heat of him.

His hand slides into my hair, tangling in the strands as he tilts my head further, angling me just how he wants. The other moves to my waist, his fingers splaying across my side with a possessive pressure that leaves no room for doubt.

It’s not enough.

I reach up without thinking, my hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His chest is solid against mine, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between us.

Luca growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and suddenly the kiss shifts. His tongue tangles with mine, a push and pull that leaves me dizzy, overwhelmed.

His teeth graze my lower lip, sharp and teasing, and I gasp into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sweeping against mine with a hunger that leaves me breathless.

I press closer as his hand moves from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him. His grip is firm, unyielding, and I feel the hard lines of his body against mine, the softness of his lips, the insistent slide of his tongue.

His other hand tightens in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp again, and he swallows the sound greedily, his lips never leaving mine.

It’s almost too much, the way he devours me, the way he claims every inch of my mouth as though it belongs to him.

I should pull away. Instead, I kiss him back with everything I have, meeting his hunger with my own. My nails scrape against his chest, earning another low growl from him that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to drag his teeth over my jaw, his lips trailing fire down my neck. “You taste better than the wine,” he murmurs, his voice thick and rough.

I’m trembling, my breath coming in uneven bursts as he pulls back to look at me. His eyes are darker now, hooded with lust, and his lips are slightly swollen, glistening in the candlelight.

I want him to kiss me again.

Luca seems to sense it, because his hand moves to my face, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Say the word, Valentina,” he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Say yes.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I lean up, my lips finding his in answer.

This time, the kiss is slower, but no less intense. He takes his time, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that has my knees threatening to buckle. His hands are everywhere, cradling my face, skimming over my waist, trailing fire up my spine.

My fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing me harder against the table, his body crowding mine.

He bites my lower lip, just enough to sting, and I moan softly into his mouth. The sound seems to ignite something in him, and the kiss turns feral, his teeth scraping, his lips demanding.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot against my lips, I realize I’m shaking.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hand trailing down, resting for a moment on the half-moons of my breasts before snaking to my belly, and then between my thighs. I moan once more as he pauses. I don’t want him to pause.

He searches my eyes for a moment. And then he smiles, a real smile this time, one that transforms his face, softening the sharp angles and making him almost unguarded.

Before I can process it, he moves. In one swift, fluid motion, my panties are gone, leaving me bare and vulnerable. My breath catches as I instinctively shift, stepping aside just enough to grant him access, my pulse hammering in anticipation.

His hand finds my thigh, his touch unhurried, a slow glide of warmth against my skin. He drags his fingers upward with light pressure, until he reaches the ache building between my legs. His movements are maddeningly slow, deliberate, teasing—and all the more torturous for it.

His lips move to my ear. “Look at you,” he murmurs, before biting gently on the earlobe. “Look at how ready you are for me.”

And dear God, I am .

He picks me up, knowing full well that I am beyond the point where I can protest. Steady, strong arms carry me to the table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and before I know it, he is laying me down on the warm wood.

His hands part my legs while his mouth whispers kisses against my feverish skin, traveling upward, pausing at my knee, until he is inches away from my core.

“Luca…” I can hardly breathe, let alone speak.

His tongue is light on the surface, almost tentative at first, as if he’s just getting a taste. And then, he sighs. A full-blown sigh against my pussy.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I— ah! ”

He laps against my slit with his tongue, hot and insistent, inhaling me in as my head and shoulders roll back. My mouth is open, but I can’t say anything except moan. My legs instinctively move inward, but he holds them open, firmly in place.

“Glorious,” he murmurs, running his tongue in a slim line. I can almost hear him smile. I shiver, growing wetter by the second.

That tongue… it worms inside my outer folds, lapping at the little, hard nub within. The world narrows down to just the two of us, his head between my legs, speeding up or slowing down, somehow knowing just what I need.

I’ve never been with someone like Luca. He makes everything, everyone else pale in comparison. He’s no lovestruck boy. He’s a man, his eyes and mouth firmly set on getting what he wants.

And right now, I’m what he wants. The realization is deliciously overwhelming, and it makes my pussy throb for more. He laps harder. I open myself out wide to admit him deeper inside.

“Hm?” He stops and looks up, a questioning smile on his lips. I can’t breathe, can’t say anything… except I want him back there.

Thankfully, all he does is look at my face before burying his tongue in me once more, making me shudder in response as the first tremors of an orgasm appear. His mouth is sealed on my opening, sucking and nipping, and then he adds a finger to the mix. My body spasms immediately, and I lose control.

“Fuck…fuck.”

“Give it all to me.”

I shake and moan as I come, my juices dribbling out as I surrender to Luca Salvatore, King of Nuova Speranza. He pulls back, smiling triumphantly, and lifts me from the table.

Seconds later, he’s pushing me against the glass wall, and I’m undressing him as quickly as I can. His cock comes free, impossibly thick and perfectly long. My eyes widen in disbelief. Is this… how can this belong to a man?

He sees me notice, and kisses my mouth hard, willing me to taste the salt of my release on his tongue. Then, he turns me around so I’m facing the city sprawled beneath.

His breath is hot on the nape of my neck, just below my ear. “Now, Mrs. Salvatore, I’m going to show you just how you should be fucked.”