Chapter 16 LUCA #2
"Take me out of this ballroom right now, Luca. Find somewhere private before I lose my temper and smash a crystal bowl over a senator's head."
I lead her through an arched side hallway reserved for security staff.
The private lounge at the end of the hall is dim and silent, wrapped in dark mahogany paneling with a heavy leather sofa and a deadbolt that clicks shut behind us.
The muffled bass of the orchestra dies instantly.
Nora kicks her designer heels into the corner, spins around, and points an accusing finger at my chest.
Nora closes the distance between us in three furious strides, her knuckles hooking into my tie. She yanks it hard, dragging my head down until our lips are inches apart.
She twists the silk tighter around her fist until I have no choice but to brace a hand against the wall behind her. "Look at me. Never again. You do not stand there like a statue and let that woman put her claws on you. You don't let anyone touch you."
"She was baiting us," I murmur. The fierce golden spark in her eyes flares.
"I don't give a damn what she was doing," Nora snaps, giving the tie another sharp pull that wrenches my chin forward. "If anyone puts their hands on what belongs in this room, I will tear their family empire apart piece by piece, and then I will finish you myself."
A slow smirk touches my mouth, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Understood."
"You are undeniably jealous." I watch the color rise in her cheeks.
"I am not jealous," she fires right back, slamming both hands against my chest.
"I am strictly territorial." She tugs my black silk tie loose with violent precision. "Learn the difference. Jealousy is a pathetic emotional weakness. Territory is corporate policy."
I grab her wrist, halting the motion inches from my throat. "Nora."
She wrenches herself free and shoves my shoulders back until the leather sofa catches behind my knees. "What?" I drop onto the cushions because the heat in her face is intoxicating.
"Pay attention." She climbs onto my lap, straddling my thighs while her evening dress rides up toward her hips.
Her hands grip my jaw with unyielding force.
"You do not get to show me real you, make me want you more and then let some mafia heiress leave her fingerprints on you. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly clear," I manage, my throat going dry as her weight settles over me.
"Good boy," she crushes her lips against mine, bruising and greedy, biting down on my lower lip until I taste copper. When she pulls back, her breath comes in ragged hitches. "Hands on the back of this couch, Luca. You do not touch me until I tell you to."
I dig my palms flat against the cold wood trim of the sofa.
Nora's fingers find the silver buckle of my belt, snapping the metal prong free with a dull clink before yanking the leather through each loop in one sharp drag.
It hits the floor with a heavy thud. Her thumbs pop the button on my slacks, shoving the zipper down, and her fingers slip straight past the cotton.
Her palm closes around the hard ridge of my cock, bare skin searing against skin, her thumb pressing right against the throbbing head until my teeth grind together.
She strokes once from base to tip. "Look at that. Someone is eager."
"Still responsive despite your tough exterior," she whispers, her fingernails skimming my hip.
"You are holding my cock, little bird," I groan, my cock hardening more in her hand. "It has to respond to you."
"That is an acceptable risk." She lifts her hips just enough to shove her lace panties to the side, then drops down slowly, taking every inch of me in one smooth glide.
The breath leaves my lungs in a harsh curse.
Nora freezes with me buried deep inside her, resting her forehead against mine, her gaze pinned to my eyes.
"Don't close your eyes, Luca," she commands in a ragged whisper.
"I'm looking," I exhale, trembling under the sudden heat of pussy.
"Do you feel that?" she breathes against my cheek. "This belongs to me. Not to some mafia princess. Not to Sara Bellini. Mine."
"I know," I groan, my head falling back against the wall as she begins to move.
Her fingers catch my chin. "Look at me, I said."
She rolls her hips down against me, slow and deliberate, drawing out every inch of friction until the breath snags in my chest. Her nails bite straight into the meat of my shoulders, pinning me back against the leather cushions before I can lift a hand to take her hips.
"You think you're in control of this city," she pants, rolling against me.
"Not right now," I rasp out honestly.
"She thought she could rattle me out there," Nora murmurs against my mouth, her lips brushing mine with every roll of her hips. "She thought touching your arm would make me lose my head. She picked the wrong fight. I don't break down when people push me. I push back twice as hard."
"You talk too much when you're angry." I strain through clenched teeth, my hips twitching upward despite my promise.
A flat palm presses firmly against my collarbone. "Don't move."
She whispers against my ear, squeezing tight around me and pulling a ragged groan from my throat. "I am running this room. You want this. Stop pretending you don't. Your heart is pounding against your ribs like crazy."
I dig my heels into the carpet to resist thrusting. "I like you better when you admit what you want."
Her pace quickens. "Then pay attention."