Chapter 22 Alina
ALINA
Marco reaches for the door and stops. He turns to me and gives me a look that instantly sends electricity through my body.
"Are we—?"
Before I can finish, he's on me. His lips are like fire against mine. This kiss feels different. It's not a gentle, fake-for-the-cameras kiss; it's raw, hungry, an I'm-going-to-devour-you kind of kiss.
And holy shit, do I like it.
My body responds, showing my need for his control, and before I know it, I've dropped my bag and have my arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. We fumble backward, and he pins me against my desk. Papers and folders crash onto the floor.
We're breathing heavily now. He pulls my hair back, and his lips trail fire down my neck. I arch into him, desperately wanting more. His hands roam my body, leaving tingles in their wake. I'm lost in a haze of desire, my mind clouded with lust. But then, suddenly, he pulls back.
"Alina," he growls. "Tell me you want this. That you want me to continue."
I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind. His question catches me off guard, and I hesitate. Part of me wants to scream 'yes,' to pull him back to me and lose myself in his touch. But another part—the part that knows my feelings for this man aren't fake anymore—makes me pause.
"I..." I start. "I don't want to be a pawn, Marco. I don't want to be used."
I watch his face, searching for any sign of disappointment or frustration. Instead, I see something else entirely.
Marco cups my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my lips.
"Alina," he says softly. "You're not a pawn. You're everything to me."
Could he really mean that? The man who holds all the power, who could have anyone he wants, really chose me?
I feel my breath catch in my throat. "What?"
"You heard me," he says. "You're not just some piece in a game. You're brilliant, you're fierce, you're my Firefly."
I search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all I see is sincerity.
"But this arrangement," I start, gesturing vaguely between us, "it's just business, isn't it?"
Marco nods his head. "Maybe it started that way, but," he says, leaning in close to my ear, "can't you feel this? This connection between us?"
I can. God help me, I can. It's been there from the start, simmering beneath the surface of our every interaction. I've tried to ignore it, to push it aside and focus on the campaign, on our goals. But now, with Marco looking at me like this, I can't deny it anymore.
"I feel it," I admit. "But won't this complicate everything? What if—"
"Do you trust me, Alina?"
Do I trust him? This man who swept into my life and turned everything upside down? This man who's shown me more kindness and understanding in the past few weeks than I've experienced in years?
I take a deep breath, searching my heart for the answer. And to my surprise, I find it easily.
"Yes," I say, my voice firm. "Yes, I trust you, Marco."
"Then trust me when I say this isn't just about the campaign or the arrangement. This is about us. You and me."
I nod, and Marco nibbles on my ear, sending pleasure coursing through me like a storm.
"Now," he whispers into my ear, his hot breath warming me, "tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours."
He grips my hair and squeezes just enough to make it pleasurable.
"Good girl. Now let me show you what that means."
Without another word, he reaches for the buttons of my blouse, his fingers swift and deliberate. I help him, my own fingers trembling. He tosses my top to the side and unhooks my bra, doing the same.
He stares at my chest and wastes no time wrapping his warm tongue and lips around my hard nipples. I gasp from the sudden pleasure and arch my back, allowing him full access to suck, lick, and bite me however he pleases.
In one fluid motion, he spins me around, my back pressing against his chest, and his hands are everywhere—squeezing and massaging my breasts. His hands slide down my arms, gripping my hips, and I press into him, feeling the bulge that's starting to grow in his pants.
He licks my neck, and I shiver from the intoxicating feeling. "Oh, Marco," I say, his name escaping my lips without thought.
He stops and leans down, his breath hot against my skin. "When we're like this, you'll call me Sir," he commands.
I tense slightly. "Sir?" The word feels foreign on my tongue, yet somehow in the moment, almost right.
"Only if you want to come," he growls.
The promise in his voice makes me shiver. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl," he says, the praise sends unexpected warmth through me.
He reaches around, undoes my pants, and forcibly pulls them down along with my panties. He then pushes me forward with just the right amount of surprise, bending me over my desk with a firm hand on the small of my back. The surface of the desk feels cool against my skin.
He grips my ass firmly. "Have you ever been spanked before, Firefly?"
My breath catches. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me. "No, I haven't."
"Do you want to try?" His voice is deep, commanding.
I hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Yes, sir.”
A moment later, a sharp sting radiates across my skin as he delivers a firm spank. I gasp, my body jolting forward, the sting sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through me.
He waits a moment, and I nod, gripping the edge of the desk and digging my nails into the wood.
Another spank follows, and another. Each smack is a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that draws a moan from deep within me.
"Good girl," he growls, his hand soothing the area he's marked. "You take it so well."
"Thank you, sir," I manage to say, breathing heavily from the rush of being punished.
There's one thought that keeps running through my mind: I want this—I want him. More than I've ever wanted anything.
"Put your hands behind your back," he commands, and I hesitate for a moment. "Now, Firefly," he growls.
I obey him.
He takes off his tie, and I feel the silky fabric sliding against my skin as he loops it around my wrists, binding me.
He pulls it tight, securing my hands behind my back.
I try to break free gently, and the restraint sends a wave of erotic, vulnerable surrender through me.
I feel myself growing even wetter with desire.
In this moment, he's managed to make me want only one thing, more than air itself—him inside me.
"Spread your legs for me. I want to feel all of you," he commands, and I do as if my life depended on it.
His touch sparks against my skin, his finger sliding into my wetness, igniting every nerve.
Ever so slowly, he slides one finger in, gently going in and out. His other hand presses firmly on my back, pinning me down. This, mixed with my bound hands, starts the fire that will consume me whole and shatter my world.
After a few moments, I feel a slight stretch as his second finger slides in. A moan crosses my lips, and he picks up his pace slightly.
"You're so wet for me, Firefly. Are you ready for more?” he asks in a low tone.
I turn back to look at him for the first time since he bent me over. His eyes are full of lust and darkened by the desire he's feeling.
"Yes, sir," I say, and his hands grip my hips, positioning me just right. Then he undoes his pants and I feel the head of his cock pressing against me. I arch, moving what little he's allowing me, to take more of him.
"Tell me you want this," he growls, his voice commanding and low.
"I want it," I whisper, then louder, "I want you, Sir."
He doesn't wait. With one swift motion, he thrusts into me. I gasp, the stretch sharp and perfect. My body takes him in, inch by inch, igniting a blaze that burns through me.
"Oh my God," I cry out, my voice a mix of shock and pleasure.
He groans, pushing deeper until he's fully inside me. I can feel he's large and thick. Then, he pauses for a moment, letting my body adjust to his size, his hands steady on my hips. I've never felt so full, so completely claimed.
"Do you feel that?" he says, leaning over me. "Do you feel how perfectly you fit me?"
"Yes, sir," I manage, my voice wrapped in the newfound pleasure.
He pulls out slightly, then thrusts back in, harder this time. I moan, arching into him, meeting his movements with my own.
His rhythm builds, each thrust more commanding. His hands grip my hips tightly, pulling me against him with every thrust. I feel his strength, his control, and it sends waves of heat coursing through my body.
He reaches around, sliding his hand between my legs. His fingers find my clit and rub it perfectly.
With each of his movements, he's pushing me further into the abyss of pleasure. The sensation of his body against mine, the scent of him, his heaving breaths and grunts, the taste of his kiss still lingering on my lips—it's overwhelming.
I'm completely at his mercy, bound and helpless, but I've never felt more powerful. Right now, this man, this beautiful, complicated man, is mine. And I am his. Completely his.
He takes a fistful of my hair and tightens his grip, pulling my head back, and I bite my lip to stop from screaming with pleasure. I can now feel him hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars and the world appear a bright white.
I'm close, so close, and then there's a knock at the door, and I freeze, my heart pounding. Marco stills behind me, his chest heaving, and I feel his large cock twitch inside me. He's got one hand gripping my hair, and the other is now holding my bound hands, pinning me to the desk.
"Alina?" It's Sarah's voice, and I swallow hard, my face flushing.
"Just a minute!" I call out, and then I feel Marco's lips against my ear.
"I'm not pulling out of you until I'm done with you. Tell her to leave," he whispers, and I bite my lip and nod.
"Sarah, you can head home," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm just," I pause because Marco starts thrusting into me quietly again, filling me, "I'm going to stay a bit longer."
There's a pause, and I pray she doesn't try to open the door. "Okay, see you tomorrow."
I hear her footsteps retreating, and then Marco picks up his pace again, fucking me so hard I swear the desk is moving.
I moan as his thrusts become deeper and deeper.
He reaches back around and starts rubbing my clit in a circular motion that makes anything but coming impossible. My body reacts instantly, pleasure spiraling higher with each stroke.
"Come for me, Firefly," he growls, his voice rough and low.
My hair flies up and down in front of my face as I breathe heavily.
He's entered into a perfect rhythm of thrusts and rubbing that I start to feel my body tense up.
The fire in my core grows hotter, more intense.
It starts at my feet and slowly works its way up.
I hear him starting to make noises as I clench around his cock, my body preparing to erupt.
"Don't stop, don't stop," I say as he continues.
My vision blurs, and pure lust and desire overtake every inch of me. I feel like I've coiled into a ball, and suddenly—I shatter.
My body convulses around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He slows his pace, allowing me to ride out one of the most intense orgasms I've ever experienced.
"That's it," he says as he gently slaps me on the ass. "That's my girl."
Before I can recover, he picks up his pace again. His thrusts are deeper, harder, pushing me toward another peak even as my body quivers from the first.
"I'm going to come, Firefly," he growls, his voice rough with need.
"Yes, sir," I breathe, clenching around him, wanting to feel him fall apart with me.
The second wave comes over me much faster, and before I even know it, I'm coming around his cock again, panting.
"I'm coming," he growls.
I feel his hips stuttering, and then he's coming too, his cock twitching inside me as he spills into me, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I know there'll be bruises tomorrow.
He collapses over me, his chest heaving, and I feel his lips against my shoulder, soft and gentle now.
"You're amazing, Alina," he murmurs, and we both shake from the aftershocks of our orgasms.
He straightens, unties my wrists, and gently rubs the marks left by the tie. I turn to face him, my body still trembling, and he cups my face in his hands.
"You're so fucking beautiful when you surrender to me, Firefly."
I smile and kiss him.
This is new territory for me—surrendering control, calling him Sir, letting him dominate me completely.
Part of me wonders if I should be worried about how naturally it came, how right it felt to submit to him.
I've always been the one in control, managing every aspect of my life, but with Marco, it's different.
I touch the marks on my wrists, still feeling the phantom sensation of his tie binding them. "I've never..." I pause, hesitating. "I've never let anyone take control like that before."
His expression softens slightly. "And how did it feel?"
"Freeing," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty as I get dressed. "A little nervous at first, but also right, if that makes sense? Like I could just let go and trust you to catch me."
He helps button up my blouse. "That's exactly what this is about, Firefly. Trust. Control. Surrender." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "And you were perfect."
I lean into his touch, my mind still processing everything that just happened.
Our relationship has shifted—evolved into something I never expected but now can't imagine living without.
The campaign, our arrangement, the complications—they all seem distant compared to this new dynamic between us in this moment.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
His smile is pure sin. "Now? You're mine, so this is just the beginning."
The promise in his voice makes me weak in the knees, and I realize I'm already addicted to this feeling—to him, and I want everything he's offering.