Page 39 of The Assassin’s Captive (The Roma Syndicate #5)

When I pull my mouth from hers, my breath is rough against her cheek. “I own this sweet pussy. Every sound you make is for me. Understand?”

Her answer is a breathless whimper, her body arching beneath me, straining against the grip I have on her wrists.

I keep my focus between her thighs, my fingers working her harder, deeper, my thumb locked on her clit in ruthless circles.

Her legs start to shake, her hips jerking helplessly despite my weight pinning her down.

“That’s it,” I murmur, my lips at her ear, my voice low and filthy. “Come for me. Right here, under me, while I fuck you with my fingers. Let me feel how much you need me.”

She gasps my name, her head tipping back, mouth open as the orgasm tears through her.

I don’t stop until she’s thrashing under my hand, her slick moisture coating my fingers, her thighs trembling from the force of it.

Only then do I ease up, pulling my fingers free and bringing them to her lips.

“Taste yourself,” I order in a pure command.

She obeys, sucking my fingers into her mouth, her eyes glazed with heat.

“Good girl,” I say, my voice rough now, gravel scraping every word. I finally release her wrists and stand, tugging my belt free with a low rasp of leather through loops, my gaze fixed on her. “Now you’re going to watch while I get undressed—and you’re not moving until I say so.”

She stays sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, thighs still parted where I left them.

Her lips glisten as she licks the last trace of herself from my fingers, her eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing keeping her breathing.

I drag my jacket off first, throwing it to the floor without care.

My tie follows, yanked loose and dropped beside it.

“You like watching me, don’t you?” My voice is low, taunting as I unbutton my shirt one snap at a time, slow enough to make her squirm. She nods but doesn’t speak, knowing better than to answer without permission.

“Words, Serena.”

“Yes,” she whispers, her thighs pressing together for friction.

I smirk, shrugging out of the shirt, baring muscle and ink to the firelight. My belt is next, unbuckled with a metallic clink that makes her eyes darken. I drag it free, coil it in my hand, and let it drop across the arm of the couch where she can see it.

“On your knees,” I order, my tone edged with command that leaves no space for disobedience.

She slides from the couch slowly, never breaking eye contact as she kneels on the rug at my feet. Her hands twitch like she wants to reach for me, but she knows better. I rest one palm on the back of her head, fingers threading into her damp hair, holding her in place.

“Good,” I murmur, letting the praise roll over her in a dark rasp. “Stay right there while I finish.”

I pop the button on my slacks, dragging the zipper down while I keep her pinned in front of me, making her watch.

The fabric loosens, giving me a fraction of relief, but I don’t take it further yet.

My free hand brushes along her jaw, tilting her head back so she has no choice but to look up at me, wide-eyed and waiting.

“This is where you belong,” I tell her, voice thick with possession. “On your knees for me. Ready to do anything I tell you.”

“Yes,” she breathes, the word barely a sound.

I fist my hand tighter in her hair, leaning down until our faces are level. “You don’t touch me until I say. You don’t move until I say. Understood?”

“Yes, Lorenzo.”

Only then do I step back, stripping the rest of the way down with unhurried movements, letting her hunger build while I peel away every layer for her.

When I’m bare, I take my time looking at her—kneeling for me, hair mussed from my grip, lips parted on shallow breaths. My cock is heavy and aching, but I don’t rush. I hook two fingers under her chin, forcing her eyes up to mine.

“You’ve been smart tonight,” I say, my voice low and rough. “But now I want you to show me just how well you can listen.”

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, but she doesn’t speak, waiting for my command. I take her face in one hand, thumb stroking across her cheekbone, a mockery of tenderness. “Mouth open.”

She obeys instantly, lips parting. I drag my thumb across them and push inside, making her suck it deep before pulling free. “Good girl.”

I step closer, the tip of my cock brushing her mouth.

Her breath hitches, and I can feel the heat of it against me.

My fingers tighten in her hair, holding her steady.

“You’re going to take me in your mouth,” I tell her, my tone pure dominance.

“Every inch I give you. No stopping unless I tell you.”

Her wide, hungry eyes lift to mine as she whispers, “Yes, Lorenzo.”

And I press forward, claiming what’s already mine.

I guide her with both hands in her hair, feeding her my length slowly, forcing her to adjust around me. She moans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against my cock and making my grip tighten. “That’s it,” I growl, pushing deeper, controlling the pace, never letting her forget who’s in charge.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as I hold her there, my hips rolling, testing her limits. When I ease back, a thin line of spit connects us, sliding down her chin. The sight makes my breath roughen, hunger twisting hotter.

“Hands behind your back,” I order. She obeys instantly, kneeling straighter, offering herself to me without question. The obedience sets my blood on fire.

I fist her hair again, guiding her down harder this time, fucking her mouth the way I’ve imagined a hundred times. Her muffled whimpers go straight to my cock, making it throb against the tight seal of her lips. I only stop when I feel her gag, pulling back just enough to let her breathe.

I cup her face in one big hand, thumb smearing spit along her cheek. “Look at you,” I rasp, voice ragged with lust. “On your knees, wet for me, ready to take whatever I give you.”

She nods, breathless, lips swollen, eyes glassy with heat. And I know I’m done holding back.

I haul her up off the floor in one rough pull, crushing my mouth to hers as I walk her backward toward the couch.

She clings to my shoulders, still breathless from what I did to her on her knees.

My hands grip her thighs, spreading them wide as I lift and toss her down onto the cushions, my body following before she can even gasp.

“Hands on the couch,” I order, my voice guttural.

She scrambles to obey, bracing herself as I drag her hips to the edge and slam into her with a hard thrust that rips a cry from her throat.

The feel of her clenching around me makes my vision blur for a second, but I hold steady, driving into her with deep, brutal strokes that leave no space between us.

Every thrust is a claim, every sound she makes a mark on my skin. I wrap a hand around her throat, tilting her head so I can watch her fall apart under me. “You like that?” I rasp, my hips pounding into hers, the couch rocking with each push. “No one else gets this. No one else ever will.”

“Lorenzo—” Her moan breaks on my name, her nails clawing into the upholstery as her body trembles. I reach down between us, circling her clit hard and fast, forcing her to the edge while I drive into her relentless and rough.

She comes undone with a sharp cry, her walls squeezing me so tight I lose every scrap of control.

My hips snap harder, chasing my own release until it crashes over me in a guttural groan, spilling inside her with everything I have, holding her pinned under my weight while I ride out the last shuddering thrusts.

When it’s done, I stay buried in her, one hand on her throat, the other gripping her hip, breathing hard against her ear. “Mine,” I whisper again, low and raw.

She turns her head just enough to meet my gaze, her voice wrecked but certain. “Yours. Always.”