Chapter Twelve #2
The trust in those words does something to my chest. She trusts me, The Shadow, the monster, the man covered in yesterday’s blood, to take her body and use it however I want. To push boundaries and demand submission and show her exactly what being mine truly means.
“Safe word still red?”
“Yes, sir.”
Elena’s use of sir, makes my cock go hard.
“Good. Because you’re going to need it before I’m done with you.”
She shivers beneath me, anticipation making her pupils dilate. My hand slides up her thigh, feeling her tremble.
“First rule, you don’t come without permission. I don’t care how close you get, how much you want to. You hold it until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The immediate obedience sends satisfaction coursing through me. “Good girl. Second rule, I want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan, every time you’re close to breaking. Don’t hide from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
My mouth finds her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. She arches into me, already seeking more. But this is about control, mine over her, hers in surrendering it.
“Third rule.” My hand slides higher, finding her already wet. “You take everything I give you. Every touch, every command, every moment of pleasure or denial. Your body is mine to use as I see fit. Say it.”
“My body is yours.” Her breath comes faster. “To use as you want.”
“Perfect.”
My fingers slide inside her, and she gasps, loudly , unrestrained. Her hips cant up, seeking more pressure, more friction. But control means making her wait.
“Please—” The word escapes before she can stop it.
“Please what? Use your words, tesoro.”
“Please, more—I need—”
“You need what I give you. Nothing more.” My thumb finds her clit, circling slowly, too slowly, keeping her on edge. “And right now, I’m giving you this. Be grateful.”
“Thank you, sir.” The words come breathless.
Hours dissolve into sensation. My mouth mapping every inch of her skin, finding the places that make her cry out. My hands alternating between gentle and demanding, keeping her guessing. Bringing her to the edge repeatedly, then pulling back, watching her frustration build into desperate need.
“Alessandro, please—” She’s begging now, exactly where I want her. “Please let me, I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” My fingers curl inside her, hitting that spot that makes her back arch off the bed. “You’ll hold it until I’m ready. Until I’ve had my fill of watching you fall apart.”
When permission finally comes, when she’s trembling and incoherent and so desperate she’s nearly sobbing, the release is explosive. She screams my name, body clenching around my fingers, and the satisfaction of reducing her to this is almost as good as my own pleasure.
Almost.
“Again,” the command comes dark. “I want you to come again. And this time, I’ll be inside you while you do.”
What follows is primal, her legs wrapped around my waist, nails scoring down my back, both of us lost in the rhythm of bodies claiming and surrendering.
When she comes the second time, clenching around me, it triggers my own release, deep and claiming and accompanied by her name torn from my throat.
The third time is slower, more deliberate. Her on her stomach, my hand tangled in her hair, both of us learning new boundaries and testing limits.
“I told you,” my voice comes dark against her ear, “that next time I’d take this ass too. That I’d claim every part of you.”
She tenses slightly beneath me, but doesn’t pull away. “I’ve never—”
“I know.” My free hand strokes down her spine, soothing. “We’ll go slow. But tesoro, when I’m done, there won’t be a single part of you that doesn’t belong to me. Say your safe word if it’s too much.”
“Red,” she whispers, reminding us both.
“Good girl.”
Preparation takes time, oil slicked between her cheeks, fingers working carefully, stretching and preparing while she gasps and trembles beneath me. The first finger makes her tense, but my other hand slides beneath her, finding her clit, giving pleasure to balance the unfamiliar intrusion.
“Breathe,” the command comes gentle. “Relax into it. Let me in.”
She does, body gradually accepting the invasion. One finger becomes two, her breathing becoming ragged as sensation overwhelms her.
“Alessandro—” His name is half prayer, half plea.
“I’ve got you. Trust me.”
When she’s finally ready, when her body has adjusted and she’s writhing beneath me, seeking more, positioning comes carefully. The blunt head of my cock presses against that tight ring of muscle, and her entire body goes rigid.
“Easy. Breathe. Push back against me, yes, like that.”
The first breach is exquisite torture. She’s impossibly tight, her body resisting even as she tries to relax. My hand finds her clit again, circling, providing pleasure to offset the burn of penetration.
“Too much—” Her voice breaks. “It’s too—”
“Color, Elena. Give me a color.”
A pause. Then: “Yellow. Not red, it’s intense.”
“Yellow means we pause.” Immediately stilling, despite every instinct screaming to push forward. “Breathe. Let your body adjust. We have all the time in the world.”
Long moments pass. Her breathing evens. The tension in her shoulders gradually releases. My fingers continue their gentle work on her clit, keeping her aroused, keeping pleasure flowing.
“Okay,” she finally whispers. “Okay, I’m ready. More.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. Please. I want, I want all of you. Everywhere.”
The last of my control fractures. Slowly, so slowly, pressing deeper. Her body yields inch by inch, accepting the invasion, until finally being fully seated. The sensation is overwhelming, heat and pressure and possession so complete it borders on sacred.
“Cristo.” The word is torn from my throat. “Elena, you feel—”
“Full.” She gasps. “So full. Alessandro—”
“I know, tesoro. I know.” My hand tangles tighter in her hair, the other still working her clit. “You’re taking me so perfectly. Taking everything I’m giving you.”
Movement starts slow, shallow thrusts that make her gasp and whimper. But as her body adjusts, as pleasure builds to overwhelm the burn, the rhythm increases. Deeper. Harder. My hips driving forward while my fingers work her clit with practiced precision.
“Oh God—” Her voice rises, desperate. “Alessandro, I’m—I’m going to—”
“Not yet. Hold it.”
“I can’t, please, it’s too much—”
“You can. You will.” My hand releases her hair, sliding around to grip her throat, not choking, just holding, owning. “You’ll come when I tell you, with me buried in your ass, while I claim every last part of you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, but please—”
“Now, tesoro. Come for me now.”
Permission granted, she shatters. Her entire body convulses, the orgasm ripping through her with such force she screams, a raw, primal sound, completely unrestrained. The way her body clamps down triggers my own release, spilling deep inside her while she writhes and gasps beneath me.
The pleasure is so intense she uses her safe word “Red! Red!” Not from pain, but from the overwhelming sensation that borders on too much.
Immediately withdrawing, gathering her shaking form into my arms. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Breathe, tesoro. Just breathe.”
She’s trembling, tears streaming down her face, but when she looks at me, her expression is dazed satisfaction rather than distress.
“Too much?” Concern makes my voice rough.
“Perfect amount.” Her laugh is shaky. “So intense. So intense I forgot how to process it.”
“You did so well.” Pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her lips. “So perfect. Took everything I gave you.”
“Yours.” The word comes out slurred with exhaustion. “Every part of me is yours.”
“Mine,” the agreement comes fierce, possessive. “Completely mine.”
The care taken afterward, I clean her gently, massaging sore muscles, wrapping her in soft blankets only makes her trust deepen visibly. She curls into me, boneless and sated, and the vulnerability in that gesture does something to my chest.
By the time exhaustion finally claims us both, she’s marked everywhere. Elena has bite marks on her shoulders, fingerprints on her hips, evidence of possession written across her skin in ways that will last days. And now, having claimed her in every possible way, satisfaction runs bone-deep.
She belongs to me. Completely. In every way that matters.
And tomorrow, the world will learn exactly what that means.
“Still sure about this?” The question is murmured against her temple.
“If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to stab you.” But there’s no heat in the threat. “I’m sure. I’ve been sure. Stop questioning it.”
“Can’t help it. Keep waiting for you to come to your senses and run.”
“Not happening.” She shifts, wincing slightly. “Though I might need a wheelchair after that. Pretty sure you’ve destroyed my ability to walk.”
Pride and concern war in equal measure. “Too much?”
“Perfect amount.” Her smile is satisfied, sated. “But Alessandro? Next time, warn me before you—”
“Before I what?”
“Before you do that thing with your—” She blushes. “Never mind. I’ll just plan better.”
The laugh that escapes me is genuine and warm. “Noted. Next time I’ll provide a detailed itinerary of planned activities.”
“That would be helpful, yes.”
We fall into comfortable silence, afternoon light filtering through windows. Tomorrow brings challenges, Greco still lives, the feds still investigate, enemies still circle. But right now, in this moment, peace exists. Elena is my safety, my home.
“Wait here.” The bed protests as it’s left, but this can’t wait.
Her overnight bag yielded little when brought from the penthouse, a few clothes, toiletries, her phone. But one thing was tucked in the side pocket, carefully wrapped, a single black rose, preserved somehow, with gold leaf painted along the edges of each petal.
Returning to the bedroom, I find Elena sitting up, sheet wrapped around her, looking curious.
“What’s that?”