Chapter 35
Gio
The restaurant is all dark wood and low light, the kind of place where deals get made over hundred-dollar steaks and single-malt scotch.
It's my territory. A world of quiet confidence and controlled power.
And tonight, it's hers. Zoe sits next to me, the emerald silk of her dress a slash of violent color against the muted tones of the booth.
She won. Elena-fucking-Moretti stood up for her.
The pride sitting in my chest is a heavy, dangerous thing, a beast that wants to roar.
But I keep it caged. Tonight is about her victory.
She cuts into her steak, her movements precise, economical. The victory is accepted as her due. It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
"Stop staring," she says, not looking up from her plate. Her voice is calm, but I hear the edge.
“I’m admiring the view,” I say. And it’s true. My attention is on the way the candlelight catches in her hair, on the smooth column of her throat, on the triumphant set of her shoulders. This moment is what I’m memorizing.
"You're staring like you're trying to take credit," she says, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes are sharp, cutting right through the bullshit.
"I'm just admiring," I say, leaning back in the booth, draping my arm along the top of the leather seat behind her. "You looked like a fucking weapon up there."
A flicker of heat crosses her face before she masks it. "I am the weapon, Gio."
My cock twitches in my pants. I love it when she talks like that.
All sharp edges and unapologetic power. I slide my hand off the back of the booth, letting it drop to her shoulder.
I trace the line of her collarbone, my thumb brushing against the warm skin of her chest. She tenses, a subtle resistance that makes my blood run hotter.
"Relax," I murmur, my voice low. "I'm just celebrating."
"Is that what this is?" she asks, taking a sip of her wine.
"Absolutely." My hand drifts lower, my fingers tracing the delicate chain of her necklace.
My knuckles brush against the silk over her ribs.
"You're a genius. You're going to be a star.
And I'm the lucky bastard who gets to watch it happen.
" My hand continues its path, moving down her side, my palm skimming the curve of her hip under the table.
The fabric of her dress is cool and slick.
Her breath hitches, a barely-there sound that I'm trained to hear.
"Gio," she warns, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We're in public."
"I know." My fingers find the hem of her skirt, the slit in the silk giving me all the access I need. I slip my hand underneath, my palm flattening against the warm, smooth skin of her thigh. Her legs part instinctively, a silent, involuntary surrender that makes my dick ache. "Let them look."
My hand slides higher, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. I can feel the heat of her, a promise of what's waiting for me. Her knuckles are white where she's gripping her fork, but she doesn't stop me.
"Are you wet for me, Zoe?" I murmur, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. "Are you sitting here, dripping, thinking about what I'm going to do to you when I get you back to my room?"
She turns her head, her eyes locking onto mine. They're dark, dilated, burning with a fury that looks exactly like lust. "Shut up and finish your steak, Rossi," she breathes. "You're going to need your energy."
The door to my dorm room clicks shut, and the noise from the hallway disappears.
I’m on her, spinning her around and pinning her against the wood, my body caging hers.
I crash my mouth down on hers, swallowing her gasp.
It’s a fucking claim. I pour all the pride, all the possessiveness, all the raw, animal need I’ve been holding in all night into this one moment.
She kisses me back just as hard, her hands fisting in my hair, pulling, demanding.
It’s a fight, a battle for dominance that we both know I’m going to win.
Ripping at the zipper on the back of her dress, I break away.
The silk whispers as it pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a scrap of black lace.
Scooping her up, her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her to the bed.
She hits the mattress hard, and I follow her down, covering her body with mine.
My mouth moves again, down her throat, teeth scraping against her collarbone. I want to leave marks.
“Gio,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Stop teasing.”
A low, dark laugh spills against her skin.
I’m savoring this. My kisses trail down her body, my tongue tracing the line of her ribs, lips closing over one hard nipple through the lace of her bra.
She arches against me, a soft cry escaping her lips.
Fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and drag them down her legs.
I settle between her thighs, my shoulders pushing them wider.
I look up at her, at the way her chest is heaving, at the way her eyes are locked on me, dark and wild.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” I growl, my breath hot against her wet cunt. “Thinking about how you taste.”
My tongue traces a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit.
She groans, her hips bucking against my face.
Again and again, the motion repeats—tongue flat and wide, lapping at her like she’s my last meal.
Heat builds fast, her arousal coating my chin, and it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.
Her clit disappears into my mouth, tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Two fingers slide inside her, curling upward, finding that spot that makes her fall apart.
I fuck her with my fingers, hard and deep, while I devour her with my mouth.
“Gio, fuck,” she cries, her hands tangling in my hair, holding me to her. “Don’t stop.”
“Stop,” she says, her voice sharp. “Get up.”
I pull back, confused. “What?”
“Get up,” she repeats, her eyes burning with a new kind of fire. “And lie down.”
Obedience hits like a thrill. I lie back on the bed, my cock straining against the fabric of my pants. She moves to straddle my waist, her intentions clear, but I’m not done tasting her yet. I grip her hips, stopping her.
“Move up,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument. Adjusting my grip, my hands guide her, positioning her over my chest, then higher. “I want you to ride my face.”
Her breath hitches. The irritation in her eyes is instantly replaced by a dark, shocked heat that makes my dick throb.
She understands what I’m giving her. Total, absolute control.
She hesitates for only a second before she complies, her knees settling on either side of my head.
She looks down at me, a queen on her throne, her body a silhouette in the dim light of my room.
“Like this?” she asks, her voice a low, teasing challenge.
“Exactly like that,” I groan.
She lowers herself onto my face, her wet cunt settling right over my mouth.
I bury my face in her pussy, my tongue delving deep, tasting every inch of her.
She rides my face, grinding down against me, using my mouth to get herself off.
It’s the most fucking erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
I can feel her getting close, her thighs trembling, her movements becoming erratic.
Effort redoubles as my tongue works her clit in tight, rapid circles.
“Fuck, Gio,” she gasps, her body tensing. “I’m coming.”
She shatters, her cunt clenching around my tongue, a wave of her release washing over my face.
I lap it up, drinking her down. She collapses beside me, her body limp, her breathing ragged.
After giving her a second to recover, I’m on her again, flipping her onto her stomach and dragging her hips up.
My own pants come off fast, a condom rolled on with shaking hands.
Her hips are firm in my grip as I line myself up with her entrance.
“You’re mine,” I growl, and then I slam into her, burying myself to the hilt.
She cries out, her back arching. I set a brutal pace, my hips snapping against her ass, my balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. The room fills with the sound of our bodies coming together, the wet slap of skin on skin, our ragged breathing.
One hand reaches around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight, hard circles.
“Come for me again,” I command. “Come all over my cock.”
She does. Her pussy clamps down around me, a vice grip of pleasure that pulls my own orgasm from me.
I roar, my hips stuttering as I empty myself into the condom, my whole body shaking with the force of it.
We collapse onto the bed, a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Good celebration?” I ask, my voice rough.
She turns her head to look at me, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. “I could get used to celebrating like this,” she says.