Page 28 of The Underboss’s Secret Twins (Underworld Heirs #2)

And then he’s looking down at me, his pupils blown wide, his breath still ragged as his lips brush mine in a dark, dangerous promise.

"Now you’re really going to get it."

His body is a wall of heat and muscle, pressing me down, his breath still ragged from what I just did to him. His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me open, and the way he looks at me—like he’s about to ruin me—makes my pulse skitter, makes my whole body tighten with anticipation.

"You just don’t know when to stop, do you?" His voice is a rasp, dark and edged with something dangerously unhinged.

I smirk, trying to catch my breath, but it’s useless—his hand is already at my throat, his fingers firm but careful, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his wild, blown-wide gaze.

"Be careful what you ask for, dolcezza, " he murmurs. "Because now? I’m going to break you."

And then he does.

His mouth crashes against mine, bruising, consuming, devouring. I barely have time to breathe before his hands tear at the last remaining barriers between us. Fabric rips. Skin ignites.

He doesn’t rush.

Not at first.

He drags it out— his hands exploring, his lips teasing, his tongue tracing every inch of me with agonizing precision. He makes sure I feel everything —the way his fingers sink into my flesh, the way his body presses, claims, possesses.

His teeth graze my pulse point, and I whimper, hips arching up, desperate for more.

"You’re already shaking," he murmurs against my skin, his fingers trailing lower, teasing me with just enough pressure to make me squirm. "You’re so damn easy for me."

I bite back a plea, but he sees through me.

He always does.

And that’s when his patience snaps.

In one brutal thrust, he fills me.

I cry out, my back bowing, my nails digging into his shoulders as he stretches me, takes me, claims me.

There’s no hesitation. No holding back.

He fucks me like he owns me—like he’s staking his claim, like he needs this just as much as I do.

His pace is punishing, relentless, his hips snapping against mine, grinding deep, forcing me to take every inch of him.

"You feel this, bella? " His voice is rough, wrecked, his fingers gripping my hips in a bruisingly tight grip. "You feel how deep I am? How fucking perfect you are around me?"

I can’t answer.

I can’t breathe.

Every thrust sends lightning through my veins, every filthy word from his lips shattering me further.

But then he slows.

Drags out his strokes. Tortures me.

His thumb finds my clit, circling just right, forcing me to the edge, keeping me dangling just within reach.

"Beg," he orders, his voice thick with dark satisfaction.

I shake my head, panting, trembling. "Marco?—"

His hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head back, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Say it," he murmurs. "Tell me you need it."

I’m shaking, my body on fire, my mind gone.

"Please," I whisper, my voice wrecked, desperate.

"Not good enough."

His hips grind deeper, slow but brutal, and I break.

"Please, Marco—fuck me. Hard. Make me come. I need you."

A deep, satisfied growl rumbles in his chest.

And then?—

I feel it happen.

The shift from taunting control to pure, feral need.

His fingers bite into my hips, holding me in place as he starts to pound into me, ruthless and unforgiving, like a man possessed. The slow, teasing pace he tormented me with before? Gone.

Now, he’s taking.

Now, he’s claiming.

My back arches, nails dragging down his back, leaving red trails over tense, flexing muscle. The sweat slicking his skin glistens in the dim light, his hair falling over his forehead, his jaw tight, his teeth bared as he watches me come apart beneath him.

His dark, wrecked gaze locks onto mine, pupils blown wide, his mouth parted as he pants, the rhythm of his thrusts punishing, each one driving me higher, deeper, past the point of return.

His body is an inferno, burning against mine, each desperate, relentless snap of his hips sending shockwaves straight through my core.

I can feel everything.

The heavy drag of his cock inside me, the way he stretches me, fills me, owns me.

"You feel that?" His voice is a low, wrecked growl, barely recognizable. "You feel what you do to me?"

I can’t answer. I can barely breathe.

The way he’s slamming into me, grinding deep, hitting exactly where I need him—it’s too much.

I scream his name, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, my legs locking tight around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, harder, faster.

His hand snaps up, grabbing my jaw, forcing my face up until my eyes meet his.

"Look at me." His voice is low, wrecked, dangerous. "I want to see you when you come. I want to feel you break for me."

His thrusts turn brutal, so deep, so perfect, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room, mixing with my helpless moans, his growls, the sheer desperation of it all.

"Fuck, Sofia," he groans, voice raw, his forehead pressing against mine, sweat dripping from his temple onto my cheek. His jaw clenches, his breath hot and ragged, his entire body trembling with restraint.

I whimper, the coil in my stomach tightening too fast, too hard.

"That’s it, baby." His fingers dig into my waist, his pace turning frantic, reckless, relentless. "You’re mine. Mine. Fucking come for me."

And then I do.

The orgasm rips through me, violent and earth-shattering, my entire body seizing, my mouth parting on a silent scream as I convulse around him, dragging him down with me.

"Christ—" Marco snarls, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep, his body shuddering against mine as he loses himself, spilling into me with a guttural groan.

For a moment, everything is fire.

Then everything is quiet.

The only sound is our labored breathing, our hearts pounding in sync.

And as he collapses against me, his face buried in my neck, his lips pressing the faintest, most unexpected kiss to my skin.