Chapter Fourteen #2
I don’t know everything about Lorenzo Giovanni Moretti, but I know enough to understand that he’s far more than the polished businessman the world sees.
Even if I was stupid enough to fall into his orbit, my family would never approve.
They’ve warned me about him, about his reputation, about the dangerous games he plays.
His vision darkened, his cold blue eyes locking onto mine, and I couldn’t miss the way his erection strained against his pants. It looked almost painful, and the sheer size of it sent a shiver through me.
Before I could react, he closed the distance between us.
One second, he was standing there, towering over me, and the next, his lips were on mine.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I hadn’t kissed a man in three years. But this? This wasn’t just a kiss.
This was fire.
I melted in his arms, my body betraying every ounce of logic I had left.
He tasted like mint and smoke, intoxicating, dangerous, and everything I shouldn’t want.
The kiss was desperate, hungry, as if we had been waiting an eternity to taste each other. As if no matter how much we drank, it would never be enough.
His hands roamed over me, claiming me with every touch.
They explored my breasts, gently massaging, tracing the curves of my body as though he wanted to memorize every inch of me.
His touch sent jolts of heat through me, and when his hand slid lower, down to my breast, he pinched my nipple lightly, forcing a moan from my lips before trailing further down.
My breathing quickened as I realized where his hand was heading.
Panic.
Desire.
Confusion.
They all hit me at once.
With every ounce of strength, I could summon, I pushed him away, my palms slamming into his chest harder than I thought possible.
He stumbled back slightly, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t finished.
He stepped forward, closing the gap again, his hand reaching out as if to pull me back into him.
“This is wrong.” I muttered, my voice trembling, my mind screaming for control.
And when he leaned in to kiss me again, I did the only thing I could think of.
I slapped him.
Again.
The sharp crack echoed through the room, and my hand stung from the force of it.
His head tilted slightly, his jaw clenched, and for a split second, I thought I had gone too far.
But instead of anger, there was something darker in his eyes.
He’s staring at me, his eyes burning with fury, but there’s something else there, too. Amusement.
“I bet your pussy is begging for my cock,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, each word cutting through me like a blade. “Screaming and begging to be fucked.”
My breath catches, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“I know you want me, princess,” he continues, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I see how you’re looking at me. I see your beautiful eyes searching mine, trying to hide what you’re feeling.”
He takes a step closer, and I feel trapped under his gaze.
“I see your nipples getting harder and harder every time I touch you, or claim you as mine, just with my words. I see your dilated pupils, and I know, as sure as fuck, that you’re dripping. That your panties are soaking. That your pussy is pulsing for my cock.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming me, drowning me in a mix of desire and anger.
Because he’s right.
I hate that he’s right.
Weeks of this, of his filthy, teasing words, of the slow, unbearable foreplay that never went further than his voice, have left me teetering on the edge.
He’s been breaking me down little by little, and now my body betrays me completely.
I do want him.
I want him so much it hurts.
I want him to touch me. To be inside me. To claim me as his.
And I hate myself for it.
“I don’t want you,” I lie, my voice shaking as I force the words out.
It’s all I can manage to say, but it’s enough, for now.
I turn, moving toward the door, determined to escape this room and the twisted hold he has over me.
But as I reach for the handle, his hand shoots out, grabbing my wrists with a grip that’s firm but not painful.
My heart skips a beat.
I freeze, unable to move, his touch burning through me like a brand.
I don’t dare turn around, but I can feel him behind me, so close, his presence suffocating, his breath hot against the back of my neck.
“You’re lying,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, a dark promise hidden beneath his words.
My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic rhythm I can’t control.
“But,” he continues, stepping closer, his piercing gaze locking onto mine, “I’ll give you a chance.”
He tilts his head, studying me like he can see right through me, like he knows the truth my body is betraying.
“If your underwear is dry, you can leave. No questions asked. But if you’re wet... if you lied to me, Serena...”
His voice deepens, a warning laced with raw hunger.
“I’ll be mad,” he says, his tone sending a shiver down my spine, “and I’ll rip you apart until you’re wishing you never lied to me.”
His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, and the way he looks at me, like he already knows the answer, makes my knees weak.
I try to leave again, turning toward the door, my hands trembling as I reach for the handle.
But I don’t make it.
Before I can take another step, he’s behind me in an instant, his body heat pressing into mine, surrounding me.
I try to push him away, my palms meeting the hard wall of his chest, but it’s like shoving a brick wall.
He grabs my arms with firm, unrelenting hands, securing them with an ease that makes my stomach drop.
My breath catches as he spins me, pushing me forward until my face meets the cool surface of the wall.
I can feel his breath hot against my ear, the tension between us so thick it’s suffocating.
“Lorenzo, please,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a plea.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hand slips into my panties, and I suck in a sharp breath as his fingers brush against me. I’m soaking, so freaking wet, and I feel him smile, his mouth close to my ear, his warm breath a cruel tease against my skin.
“You shouldn’t lie to me,” he murmurs darkly.
Then he slides a finger inside me, slow but deliberate.
My body reacts instantly, arching toward him, a whimper escaping my lips before I can stop it.
My moans spill out, soft, broken sounds I can’t control, as he pushes deeper.
A second finger joins the first, stretching me just enough to send heat flooding through every nerve in my body.
His thumb finds my clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, and I swear I can’t breathe.
It’s been minutes, five, ten, an eternity, since he started working me with his fingers, and I’m trembling against him, helpless. The pleasure builds, relentless and sharp, until it crashes over me like a wave. My body convulses, and the first orgasm shatters through me.
I can’t stop the sounds, my screams, my cries, all raw and unfiltered. For a second, I hope the room is soundproof because there’s no way I can silence myself. I’ve never felt anything like this before.
I never even knew my body could feel this way.
I lost my virginity when I was 21, back in university, and it was nothing like this.
Back then, it was awkward and painful, leaving me cold and disinterested.
I decided sex wasn’t for me, that I didn’t like it, that I couldn’t feel it the way other people seemed to.
But now, with him, it’s different.
With just his fingers, he’s unravelled me, left me gasping, begging for more. I can’t think straight, can’t even find my voice to stop the words spilling from my lips:
“Please, Lorenzo. I want you. I need you inside me.” And the worst part? I mean every single word.
“Good girl,” he praised, his voice dark and smooth, threading through the haze clouding my mind.
I barely had time to process his words, what had just happened, before he pushed inside me.
My breath hitched sharply as he stretched me, his cock thick and unforgiving as my body struggled to accommodate his size.
Inch by inch, he filled me, slow but deliberate, and I felt like I was unravelling with every movement.
The pleasure came in waves, sharp and impossible to contain, building as he moved within me.
His thrusts were slow but deep, each one deliberate, each one hard, hitting that spot that made my vision blur.
I couldn’t hold it back, his name fell from my lips, a scream I couldn’t control, couldn’t silence.
“Lorenzo—”
I didn’t care where we were, didn’t care that I was supposed to be at work, that anyone might hear.
All I could feel was him, filling me, owning me, the pleasure tearing through my body like a live wire.
My hands clawed at him, searching for something, anything, to ground me as he pushed me higher, closer to breaking. And I didn’t want him to stop.
“Lorenzo, please, I can’t—”
The words fell from my lips in a breathless, desperate plea. I didn’t even know what I was begging for. My body trembled, overwhelmed by sensations it had never experienced before, unsure how to react.
“Please what, princess?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, each word punctuated by a harder, faster thrust.
“Oh, Gosh, I need… I can’t, Lorenzo, please.”
I was spiralling, so close to the edge I couldn’t think straight.
The tension coiled tight in my core; a pleasure so intense it felt like my body might shatter under the weight of it.
I couldn’t hold on any longer, I was begging for release, something, anything, to save me from the overwhelming heat consuming me.
Suddenly, he grabbed me by the hair, his grip firm but controlled, and pushed me down onto the table.
My hands flattened against the cool surface as he lifted me, his other hand sliding under my hips, raising me up to meet him.
I gasped as he pushed deeper, each thrust harder, deeper, filling me completely until I couldn’t breathe.
The hand in my hair anchored me, pulling my head down as my back arched under him, my body helpless against the intensity.
I moaned, loud, broken sounds spilling from my lips as he drove into me, relentless and precise, hitting that spot over and over that sent fire through my veins. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, just feel.
It was too much, too good, and I was seconds from unravelling, completely at his mercy.
“You’re expensive when you’re moaning and screaming my name, darling,” he growled, his voice low and rough, dripping with possession. “And I’m the only man rich enough to hear it.”
Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head up so I was forced to meet his gaze. His eyes burned into mine, dark, unrelenting, full of a promise I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
“There’s no going back, Serena,” he said, his tone dark and final, each word settling deep inside me like a brand. “You’re mine now. You belong to me, no matter if you want it or not.”
His words hit me like a shockwave, claiming every part of me, and then it happened, another orgasm tore through me, sudden and overwhelming. I cried out, my body shuddering violently as pleasure wracked every nerve. It was too much, too intense, and I could barely hold myself together.
Somewhere through the haze, I felt him tense, his thrusts turning erratic before he groaned, deep and primal. I felt him fill me, hot and thick, his release spilling deep inside me, so much that I could feel it begin to drip down my thighs.
I’d never felt anything like this, one orgasm was unthinkable, but two? In less than an hour? My body wasn’t built for this kind of pleasure. I was trembling, spent, and utterly shattered.
The world blurred at the edges, darkness pressing in as exhaustion overtook me. My last thought before slipping under was his voice, his words still echoing in my mind.
You’re mine.
And then everything went black.