Chapter 25
I perch on the edge of Alessio's bed, fingering the subtle pattern on his dark blue comforter. The room surprises me—spacious yet minimalist. Everything here serves a purpose. A large wooden dresser. A leather chair in the corner. A desk with nothing but a lamp and a closed laptop.
Half an hour has passed since Ginerva brought me to this room with a gentle hand on my back.
"Make yourself comfortable, cara ," she'd said, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled. "Can I bring you anything? Tea perhaps?"
The kindness in her voice had caught me off guard. In the years since my mother died, the staff at the Lombardi estate had maintained a professional distance—efficient but cold, like they'd been instructed to keep their interactions with me to a minimum.
But Ginerva fussed over me, noticing my exhaustion immediately.
I stand up, too restless to remain still, and walk to the window. The Feretti estate sprawls before me—manicured gardens, stone pathways, and in the distance a fountain sparkling the afternoon light. It's beautiful in a way that reminds me of Italian villas from another era.
I move to the dresser, running my fingers lightly over the surface. I don't open any drawers—that would be an invasion of privacy I'm not willing to commit—but I notice a small silver frame tucked behind a watch box. A woman with Alessio's eyes smiles from the photograph. His mother, perhaps?
The door opens behind me and I turn quickly, feeling like I've been caught doing something I shouldn't.
Alessio fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides of the frame. His eyes latch with mine immediately, intense and unreadable.
Everything between us has changed in the span of days.
Alessio crosses the room to me.
"How did it go?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual despite the nervous flutter in my chest.
"I told them we're together now," he says.
"What?" The word escapes before I can stop it. "When did we agree we're together?"
His expression darkens instantly. The warm brown of his eyes turns cold, almost black. His jaw tightens, the muscle there twitching visibly.
"I said you were mine." His voice drops an octave, rough and dangerous.
Heat floods my cheeks. "But you told me you just have sex with most women. That you don't do relationships."
Alessio steps closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. He towers over me, not touching but close enough that I feel trapped between his body and the dresser behind me.
"You are not most women." Each word falls like a stone, heavy with meaning.
My pulse bangs in my throat. I'm not sure if it's fear or something else entirely making my skin tingle where his breath touches it.
"What does that mean?" I whisper, searching his face for answers.
"It means you're not just another fuck, Melania. You're the woman I'd burn down empires for. You're mine in every way that matters - heart, body and soul. And I've never wanted to keep anything as much as I want to keep you."
"Don't." The word breaks from my lips like a prayer. "Don't say things like that unless you mean them, Alessio. I'm not strong enough to be your temporary obsession."
"You think I'm not serious? I want to grab you and fuck you on the floor, on the dresser, on the desk." His voice husks lower with each location. "On every fucking kitchen counter, on the dining table, and back on the bed."
My breath hitches as heat pools low in my belly. His eyes never leave mine, watching every reaction his words pull from me.
"From the parking lot to the woods and wherever else you could think of." His hand slides to cup my jaw, tilting my face up. "But one thing is clear. I will never leave unless you tell me to fuck off." His expression hardens. "Is that what you want, Melania? For me to go?"
Everything inside me breaks open—all the walls I've built, all the careful defenses. His crude words should offend me. Instead they're like matches to gasoline. I'm burning from the inside out.
"No," I whisper.
My entire world is melting around me. The realization hits me with stunning clarity: I want him so completely that just hearing these filthy promises from his lips makes me ready to surrender immediately.
I lean in, eliminating the last sliver of space between us. My body presses into his, molding the hard planes of his chest to my softer curves.
"If that's so," I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice despite the trembling in my limbs, "you need to start doing as you said." I tilt my chin up in challenge.
"Get your fucking clothes off. Now," Alessio growls, with that perilous register that makes my entire body shiver.
I don't hesitate. My fingers fumble with the clothes, yanking them off with none of the grace I’m told I normally rock. His eyes never leave me, savoring every inch of skin revealed like a predator watching its prey.
The moment I'm naked he grabs me, his large hands spanning my waist as he lifts me effortlessly. Three quick strides and I'm on his desk. He sweeps everything off with one arm sending it all clattering to the floor.
The polished wood is glossy against my heated skin. I barely have time to register the sensation before Alessio is between my thighs, pushing them wider apart. His hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing but holding me firmly as he lifts my face to his.
"Now it's time for you to remember who you belong to," he says, his thumb stroking my jawline. "Since you clearly forget and question me."
A smile curves my lips despite the position I'm in—or perhaps because of it. There's power in knowing what effect I have on him, in seeing the ready-to-unleash control in his eyes.
"Something funny, princess?" His voice is demonic soft.
Before I can respond his free hand moves to my breast, fingers finding my nipple and pinching hard. The sudden jolt of sensation tears a gasp from my throat, my back arching into his touch.
"No," I manage to say, but the breathless quality betrays me.
His eyes darken as he watches my reaction, noting how my thighs spread wider for him, how my body responds to his rough handling. The evidence of my arousal is impossible to hide.
"You like that," he observes, not a question but a statement of fact. His fingers press harder, twisting slightly until I whimper. "You like being reminded who owns this body."
Oh God, I do.
Her moan almost drops me. Fuck, she likes this—likes me taking control, claiming her.
My cock hardens painfully against my zipper as I watch her nipples tighten and swell huge under my touch.
The knowledge that she wants this—wants me to own her completely—sends a surge of primal possession through my veins.
I pinch her nipple again, harder this time, and she moans like a caged animal finally set free. The sound travels straight to my groin, my body responding with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
"Holy fuck," I mutter, my voice barely recognizable. "I'm going to be buried inside you for the rest of my life."
I take a step back, needing to see all of her. She's spread out on my desk like an offering—legs open, lips parted, chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. Her eyes own mine, dilated with desire, challenging me even as she surrenders.
I strip quickly, efficiently, watching her reaction as my clothes hit the floor. When my boxers join the pile, her eyes feast on my cock and she licks her lips. The gesture nearly breaks my control.
"You'll get to taste it only when you're sore to your bones," I tell her roughly. "When you can barely walk from what I'm about to do to you."
I step between her thighs again, reaching into my desk drawer for a condom. I tear the packet open and roll it on, never breaking eye contact.
"What do you want?" I ask, positioning myself at her entrance but not pushing in.
"You," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "I want you."
Not good enough. I grip her hips hard enough to leave marks. "What. Do. You. Want?" Each word is punctuated with a squeeze of my fingers.
Her eyes flash with understanding and her voice purrs a sultry command. "Fuck me, Alessio."
"Good girl," I praise, and before she can respond I thrust into her with one powerful stroke.
She falls back onto her elbows, a cry tearing from her throat. I push her shoulders until she's lying flat on the desk, her hair spilling across the polished surface. Gripping her hips, I drag her to the edge so her ass is perfectly positioned while I fuck her.
I bring my fingers to my mouth, wetting them thoroughly before trailing one down to circle her back entrance. When I push a finger inside, her eyes roll back, her body arching off the desk as she takes me deeper.
"More," she gasps, her body clenching around me in a way that makes my vision blur.
I grip her hips and pull out completely. "Turn around," I command, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
She obeys instantly, flipping over on the desk and presenting her perfect ass to me.
I bring my hand down hard on her right cheek, the smack echoing through my bedroom. Her answering moan is desperate, needy. The pink handprint blooming on her skin looks like it belongs there—my mark on what's mine.
"You like that?" I growl, bringing my hand down on her other cheek.
"Yes," she gasps, pushing back against me.
I spit on her ass hole, watching as the moisture glistens there. Then I line myself up with her pussy again and thrust back in, feeling her walls clench around me like a vise. While I pump into her, I press my thumb against her ass, working it in slowly.
"I'm going to prepare this tight little hole," I tell her, my voice lurid with promise. "And when you're ready, I'm going to fuck you here until you can't walk."
Her body trembles beneath me. "Yes," she whimpers, pushing back against my thumb. "Please, yes."
The dual sensation of my cock in her pussy and my thumb in her ass proves too much. She comes without warning, her back arching dramatically as she screams my name. Her pussy clenches around me in rhythmic waves, her juices coating my cock as she loses herself completely.
The sight of her coming undone breaks my last thread of control. I grip her hips hard enough to bruise and fuck into her erratically, chasing my own release. My thrusts become wild, desperate, the desk scraping against the floor with the force of my movements.
I empty myself inside her, my body shuddering with the intensity of it.
I pull out of her slowly, watching as her body trembles in the aftermath.
My fingerprints mark her hips, her ass, the tender curve of her thighs—every place I've claimed.
My cock is still hard, aching for more despite my release.
This hunger for her feels bottomless, a void I can't fill no matter how many times I take her.
"Bathroom," I command, my voice rough as gravel. "Now."
She turns her head, hair sticking to her flushed face. "What?"
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. "We're keeping that pretty pussy stretched all day long. I want you ready for me whenever I decide to take you again. But right now we need to get ready for dinner."
Her eyes pop, pupils dilating further at my words. She pushes herself up from the desk on shaky arms, her legs trembling as she stands. Every movement is deliciously unsteady, her body still reverberating from the force of her orgasm.
As she walks toward the bathroom, her ass sways with each step. The sight of my handprints on her flesh makes my cock twitch with renewed interest. Unable to resist, I bring my palm down hard against her right cheek.
The sharp crack echoes through the room. She gasps, stumbling forward before catching herself on the doorframe.
"Don't tease me with that ass unless you want another round right now," I warn her, my voice deadly serious.
She looks back over her shoulder and fuck—there's a challenge in her eyes. Deliberately, she arches her back and bounces her ass, just once.
"Maybe I do," she says, honey-sweet with an edge of defiance.