Page 16

Rosaria leans into my touch, barely perceptible, but enough that I feel it.

Her eyes close for a moment, and when they open again, everything has changed.

Her eyes are dark pools of molten chocolate, filled with a mix of defiance and hunger.

She's always been a contradiction, a woman trapped between duty and desire, and tonight, she seems to be on the brink of something.

I can feel the tension humming between us, like electricity waiting to be unleashed.

When I lean forward, she doesn’t pull away, not even when my lips brush over hers gently. “ Se sapessi cosa sto immaginando di fare al tuo corpo, arrossiresti .” The words don’t even make her pull away, but if she really did know what I imagined doing to her, I know she would at least blush.

“ Allora scoprimi. Then discover me, Signor DeSantis. I am an open book.” Her lips crush into mine as she takes from me—my breath, my coherent thought, my soul…

The boldness in her words and actions sends a thrill through my veins, a heady mix of lust and anticipation. Rosaria is no longer the timid songbird I first met. She has become a phoenix, rising from the ashes of her old life, ready to seize what she truly desires. And right now, that's me.

I crash my lips against hers, my hands sliding up her back to hold her closer.

She responds with an eagerness that surprises and delights me, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer.

Our kiss deepens, tongues dancing together in a heated tango, exploring every inch of each other's mouth.

Rosaria's taste is addictive—a mix of red wine and the hint of expensive chocolate from dessert at the estate.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins is intoxicating, and I can't help but wonder how I ever survived without her.

My hands roam over her curves, taking in every inch of her body that I've fantasized about for weeks.

Rosaria arches into my touch, her breathing ragged in my ear as our kisses become more urgent, more desperate.

She pushes, backing me toward the leather sofa, and her hands make quick work of my belt as she leads.

I allow the assault, not even hesitating to let her take charge.

The woman knows what she wants, and I oblige her in every sense possible, even when she pushes me down onto the couch with my cock out of my trousers.

She stands over me, her black dress hiked up to her hips, revealing the lace of her underwear.

Her eyes lock with mine as she slowly, teasingly, slides them down her thighs, revealing the most exquisite pair of legs I've ever laid eyes on.

Rosaria crawls onto the couch, straddling my lap and grinding against my hardening cock, slicking it with her moisture.

I groan into her neck as she kisses and nibbles her way down my jawline, then lifts her hands to undo the buttons of my shirt.

“I want your cum all over me,” she purrs against my collar bone as her hands tangle in my hair.

"I want to feel you inside me." Her words are like a match to gasoline, igniting the desire I've held at bay for so long.

I reach for her, lifting her black dress over her head and discarding it carelessly on the floor.

The lace bra that clings to her curves is next to go, revealing perfect fleshy globes that fit my palms.

“You were made for my cock, Rosa.” I grip one tit and squeeze, and she hisses and arches into the touch.

“Maybe it was your cock that was made for me, Salvatore.”

I groan, unable to form words as her fingers explore my body. I can't believe this is happening—Rosaria Costa, the most sought-after woman in Rome, is here in my arms, hungry for me. I pull her closer, claiming her lips again in a rough kiss that leaves us both breathless.

“I’m gonna fill you so deep, you won’t forget it.” My hand slides between us, finding my dick and guiding it to her as she rises up to take me.

Her slickness coats my length as I tease her entrance, her heat a siren's call I can't ignore any longer.

With one swift thrust, I plunge into her depths, feeling her tightness clench around me like a vise.

Rosaria moans, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arches back, offering herself up to me.

“Look at you—already soaking my cock.”

Rosaria's moans spur me on, each one a reminder of the desire I've been suppressing for so long. I thrust into her deeper, harder, my hips slamming against hers with a primal urgency that surprises even me. “Harder,” she pants. “Make me feel it tomorrow.”

"God, Rosaria," I growl into her ear. "You feel better than any fantasy I ever had." It's the truth. No dream or memory could ever do justice to the way she feels around me now, how her body molds to mine as if we were always meant to be together.

"You like that?" I growl against her neck as I pick up the pace, thrusting into her harder, faster. She responds by grinding down on me, meeting each of my thrusts with equal ferocity.

“Oh Dio…” She pants, and I take her hand from my shoulder and press it to her clit.

“Touch your clit while I’m inside you. Show me how filthy you are.” My body is on the edge and I feel her tensing too. “You’re so fucking messy down there—look what you’re doing to me.”

Rosaria's cheeks flush, but she doesn't hesitate to do as I command. Her fingers dance over her slick folds, rubbing against her swollen clit as I pound into her relentlessly. "Oh, fuck... Salvatore," she moans, her voice a broken whimper.

I can't help but grin in triumph, reminding her whose cock is inside her now, who's making her feel this way. “That little gasp right there? That’s where I want to keep you.”

I can feel her walls tighten around me, and I know she's close. I reach the precipice with her, our breaths mingled in a symphony of moans and gasps. "Come for me, Rosaria," I pant in her ear, picking up the pace even more. "Come with me."

Her core clamps down on me, making it almost impossible for me to continue, and she breaks. My God, does she break.

Rosaria's orgasm is like a dam breaking, and I follow right behind her, my cock throbbing inside her as I explode. The immediate heat and added moisture slick her entrance more, making a puddle between our bodies, but I don’t stop until she’s sated, gasping for breath and panting.

Drenched in sweat, she drapes herself across my chest, catching her breath, and I hold her, knowing the very fact that she is in my arms instead of locked in her room means the Costa family will turn up the heat on my shipping routes.

And it’s worth every fucking headache I know awaits me tomorrow.