Chapter 25
Elena
Marco crashes his mouth to mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s a collision—teeth, tongues, breath—months of tension igniting into a kiss that’s messy and ravenous and all-consuming. His hands grip my face like he’s anchoring himself, his body slotting between my knees as I cling to him, pulling him closer, needing more.
His tongue pushes past my lips, and I meet him with everything I have. We kiss like we’re starving. Like we’re finally allowed to devour what we’ve been craving.
He drags his mouth along my jaw, down the column of my throat. My breath catches as he peels my shirt up and over my head. Then my bra—gone with a flick of his wrist. His mouth descends on my breasts, licking, sucking, biting with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk against his.
The friction of his body against my core is maddening.
I reach between us and undo his belt, pop the button, slide down the zipper. He freezes, looks at me like he’s checking for hesitation. There’s none. I want this. I want him.
So I wrap my hand around his cock.
He groans—deep and guttural—his head dropping to my shoulder as I stroke him. His dick is thick, hot, pulsing in my grip. I spit into my palm and keep working him, watching the way his abs tighten, how his hips flex into my hand.
“Jesus, Elena—”
His voice is wrecked, like I’ve already undone him. I pick up the pace, wanting to push him over the edge. His forehead presses into my collarbone, his hands gripping my thighs so hard I’ll bruise. He’s so close.
And then he comes—hot, thick ribbons painting my stomach as he shudders against me, muscles locked tight.
But even as he gasps for breath, he doesn’t pull away.
He kisses my shoulder. My neck. My cheek.
“My little fox can’t just jerk me off and think that’s the end of this,” he growls.
I laugh, breathless and turned on as hell. “Then do something about it.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, carries me to the couch, and kneels in front of me. My shoes are gone in seconds. Then his hands are at the waistband of my leggings.
I lift my hips. “Take them off.”
He peels them down slowly, dragging my panties with them. I clamp my thighs together out of instinct.
But Marco doesn’t tolerate that.
He growls, low and dangerous. “Don’t ever hide this pussy from me.”
His hands force my legs open. He leans in and inhales. Inhales.
And it should be filthy, but it feels reverent.
“Fuck, you smell like sin,” he mutters.
And then his tongue is on me.
One long, slow lick from my entrance to my clit. My back arches. My hands shoot to his hair. I don’t just moan—I wail.
He smiles against me, then gets to work.
His tongue flicks and swirls and circles my clit like he knows every nerve ending by heart. He slides his arm beneath my thighs, pinning me in place while he devours me. I’m squirming, gasping, panting his name like a prayer. The buildup is fast, brutal. I’m already shaking.
“I—I’m gonna come—”
He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t change pace. Just stays locked in, relentless.
I explode—legs trembling, hands fisting his hair, body wracked with waves of pleasure.
But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps licking, sucking, dragging every last aftershock out of me until I can’t breathe, can’t think.
A second orgasm crashes through me, leaving me boneless and sobbing his name.
Finally, mercifully, he stops. He kisses the inside of my thigh and pulls his arms free from under me. My legs drop, limp over the edge of the couch.
He kisses a path up my body—soft, sweet contrast to the filth he just did to me. When he reaches my stomach, he licks up his own cum.
My breath stutters. “You’re insane.”
He just smirks. “You taste better.”
He pauses near my mouth, gauging me. Some guys hesitate here—afraid it’ll be too much. But I grab the back of his neck and pull him in.
I want it all. I want us.
We kiss, slow and deep and messy. I taste everything—him, me, coffee from this morning—and I want to drown in it.
His cock is hard again, pressing against my thigh.
Without a word, he lifts me and carries me toward the bedroom, kissing me with growing urgency. He lays me down and strips—shirt over his head, pants and boxers gone in seconds.
God, he’s beautiful.
Tan skin. Cut abs. Muscles that flex and ripple as he crawls on top of me. A body built for sin. His cock is heavy and hard between us, brushing my stomach as he leans in to kiss me again.
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.
“I seem to remember you liked this.”
“Harder,” I whisper, echoing our first tease. But this time, it’s real.
He looks into my eyes. "Tell me to stop."
“I won’t.”
He presses in—slowly, deliberately—stretching me open inch by thick inch.
I gasp. “Oh my god—”
He stills. “You okay?”
“Don’t stop,” I pant. “Please don’t stop.”
He moves. Slow at first, like he’s savoring every second. His eyes are locked on mine, and there’s so much emotion there it almost breaks me.
Then he starts to fuck me.
Hard. Deep. Brutal in the best way.
My arms fall free when he lets go, and I grab at him—his back, his shoulders, anywhere I can hold on. He lifts up onto his knees, dragging me toward the edge of the bed and slamming into me.
Pain and pleasure blur. I claw at my breasts, pinch my nipples, moan his name over and over.
He leans back over me, grinding his pelvis into mine with every thrust. My clit is crushed beneath the weight of his body and I can’t stop coming. It’s too much.
My entire body locks up—tight, trembling—as my orgasm rips through me. He growls and slams into me harder.
I feel him throb. Pulse. Fill me.
We collapse, tangled and gasping.
He buries his face in my neck, and I hold him tighter, our skin sticky, our breaths shared.
Minutes pass.
He pulls away just enough to kiss me again—gentler now. Then he slips out of bed and disappears into the bathroom.
When he returns with a warm cloth, I don’t move. I let him clean me—between my thighs, across my stomach. Then he tosses the cloth and stands at the edge of the bed, hesitating.
I slide over.
Without a word, he climbs in next to me.
We lie there, quiet, staring at the ceiling. But the silence is different now.
He turns toward me.
I turn toward him.
I smile.
He lifts his arm.
I curl into him, cheek on his chest, heart full.