Chapter 16
ALESSIO
I’ve lost my fucking mind.
That’s the only explanation for why I can’t keep my hands off her.
Nina’s mouth is soft and desperate under me, her tongue sliding against mine like she’s been thinking about this as much as I have.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I spin us around until her back hits my desk.
Papers scatter to the floor, but I couldn’t give less of a shit about quarterly reports right now.
“Up,” I growl against her lips, lifting her onto the wooden surface.
She parts her thighs for me without hesitation, and I step between them, grinding my cock against her through our clothes. The heat radiating from her pussy makes me harder than I’ve been in years. Maybe ever.
I trail my mouth down her throat, tasting the salt on her skin. She arches into me, and I cup her breasts through that sparkly bra, rolling her nipples between my fingers until she gasps.
“Alessio...” My name falls from her lips like a prayer, breathy and desperate.
I should stop. I should walk away right now, before this gets any more complicated than it already is. But when she says my name like that, every rational thought evaporates.
Instead, I push down her bra straps and take one of her nipples into my mouth. She cries out, her legs tightening around my hips, her heels digging into my back. The sounds she makes go straight to my cock, and I know I’m in deep shit.
If I keep this up, I’m going to be in serious trouble. The kind of trouble I’ve spent my whole life avoiding.
I kiss my way down her body, pressing my lips to a small heart tattoo on her hip. When I hook my fingers in her thong and drag it down her legs, she doesn’t protest. She watches me with dark eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Spread your legs wider,” I command, pushing her knees apart.
She’s soaking wet, and the sight of her pink cunt makes my mouth water. I want to devour her. Mark her. Make sure she remembers exactly who made her lose control in this office.
“I’m going to eat this pretty pussy until you scream my name,” I tell her, my voice low and rough.
Before she can respond, I bury my face between her thighs and drag my tongue through her wetness. She tastes like heaven and sin all at once, and the strangled moan that escapes her throat makes me want to do unspeakable things to her.
I work her with my tongue and fingers, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks over her clit.
Her thighs start to tremble, and I know she’s close.
The thought that the dancers and bouncers nearby can probably hear her moans satisfies something primal in me.
I want them to know I’m the one making her come apart.
The possessive satisfaction should worry me.
It does worry me.
This isn’t how I operate. I don’t mark territory or care who sees what. But with Nina, every instinct I’ve buried for years is clawing its way to the surface.
“Alessio, I’m... God, I’m going to—”
I suck her clit between my lips and slide two fingers deep inside her. She comes with a cry that echoes off the walls of my office, her body arching off the desk as she pulses around my fingers.
I don’t stop until she’s boneless and gasping, her taste coating my tongue and chin. When I finally pull away, I’m so hard I can barely think straight.
“On your knees,” I order, already reaching for my belt.
She slides off the desk without question, sinking to her knees in front of me. Her hands smooth up my thighs as she sinks down, slow and deliberate. The tease almost undoes me before I’ve even freed myself.
When I wrap my hand around my cock, she looks up at me with those gray eyes and opens her mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I stroke myself furiously, watching her kneel there naked and waiting for me. Her tongue flicks against her lower lip, a silent invitation, and my chest heaves with the effort of holding back.
I want to drag it out, make her beg, but my body betrays me.
I’m already too close. I come with a deep groan, painting her face and breasts with my release.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just kneels there and takes it, some of my cum landing on her tongue. The sight is so fucking erotic I’m already getting hard again.
I help her to her feet, steadying her with my hands on her waist. When she disappears into the bathroom to clean up, I lean against my desk and try to catch my breath.
For a few seconds, I let myself enjoy the afterglow. The way she looked at me, the sounds she made... But then I catch sight of the door leading back to the club floor, and tension coils in my shoulders. The moment’s over.
This was supposed to get her out of my system, not make me want her more.
When she comes out, she starts gathering her clothes, moving with efficient purpose. The sight hits me like a punch to the gut. She’s going to walk out there and shake her ass for other men. Let them touch her during lap dances.
I know the rules say customers can’t touch the dancers, but I also know those rules get bent in the private rooms. As long as she doesn’t call for help, hands wander. The thought of some sweaty asshole putting his hands on her body, of her grinding against his lap, makes my stomach twist.
I have no claim on her. No right to feel this possessive. We fucked around a little, nothing more. But logic doesn’t stop the jealousy from clawing at my insides.
I grab the cash from earlier and hold it out to her. “Take this and go home. Don’t go back out there tonight.”
She whirls around, her eyes flashing with anger. “Are you paying me for sex? Is that what this was to you?”
Her accusation makes my jaw lock so tight my teeth ache. I hate that she thinks that of me, almost as much as I hate the thought of her walking back out there.
“That’s not what I meant.” But even as I say it, I realize how it looks. How it sounds. “I just don’t want you giving lap dances tonight. Not after this.”
“After what? After you got off?” She shoves the money away like it burned her. “I have a job to do, Alessio. I’m not your kept woman.”
The fire in her voice should irritate me. Instead, it makes me want to kiss her again.
“I’m going to work,” she says, pulling on her bra. “Keep your money.”
I want to tell her it isn’t about money, it’s about the way I can’t stand the thought of her walking back out that door and selling pieces of herself to strangers. But the words jam in my throat, sounding too much like a confession.
I watch her storm out, and I slump back in my chair with a harsh exhale. I’ve always prided myself on being logical. Controlled. But around Nina, I’m neither of those things.
The possessiveness I feel for her should be a warning sign.
I remind myself where that road ends. My father couldn’t stomach the weight of this life, so he walked.
Left my mother sobbing for weeks while I learned the truth at seven years old: love is weakness.
People always leave when it gets too hard.
His sudden exit taught me that romantic relationships are fragile. They simply aren’t worth the trouble.
When it comes to Nina, I just have to remember that it’s better to never get attached.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone else touch her.
Logic can go fuck itself.