Chapter Ten
Elio
Marcello kisses me back like he’s been craving it.
I can feel the sheer force of just how much he wants me, and it’s exhilarating. There’s nothing tentative in him. His mouth responds to mine, hot and certain, and the relief of it floods through me.
I spent ten minutes on the other side of that door convinced he wasn’t interested because he didn’t try to sleep with me.
But that’s not the case if his tongue in my mouth is anything to go by.
His hand fists in my hair and tilts my head and takes the kiss deeper, and every bit of that insecurity burns off and is gone.
He tastes like the wine from dinner, dark and a little sweet. His lips are firm and his stubble rasps against my chin. When his tongue strokes against mine I make a needy sound that seems to excite him.
He’s so warm and alive. The heat of his skin soaks straight through me and I press closer, craving it.
My palms flatten against the hard planes of his inked chest, feeling the muscle shift under my hands, and the heavy thud of his heart going as fast as mine.
He’s hard against my hip, thick and insistent through the thin cotton, and the feel of it sends a hot pulse straight through me.
He walks me backward without breaking the kiss.
One hand spreads wide and possessive on my lower back, steering me until the backs of my knees hit the edge of his bed.
His mouth never leaves mine. He kisses me like he’s starving for it, like he’s been thinking about it all day.
I melt under the urgency of his mouth, my whole body going loose and pliant and wanting.
He lowers me onto the mattress and follows me down, and his weight settling over me drives the air out of my lungs in a rush.
He’s above me, blotting out the light, caging me in with his forearms planted on either side of my head.
Heat pools low in my belly and I tilt my hips up against him, chasing the friction, and he groans into my neck.
His mouth moves slowly down my throat, his tongue tracing the line of it, his stubble dragging in a way that makes me shudder.
When he reaches the bite mark he stops. He presses his lips to it, soft, and the bond flares so bright I groan.
His mouth on it lights me up from the inside, a current running from my neck down my spine to curl hot between my legs.
He feels it. I know he feels it because he makes a low, satisfied rumble against my skin and does it again, lips and the barest edge of teeth, and I clutch at his shoulders and hold on while my whole body vibrates.
He works his way lower. His mouth on my collarbone, the center of my chest, a slow wet path along my sternum.
He pauses at the fading bruise on my ribs and presses a kiss there so gentle it makes my eyes burn, and then he moves past it, lower, his lips trailing over my stomach.
My muscles jump under his mouth. I’m breathing hard, my fingers buried in his thick dark hair, hanging on as he goes.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my briefs.
He drags them down my legs and off, and the cool air hits my bare skin and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading them, and his mouth is on me.
The heat of that draws an aching gasp out of me.
His mouth is so wet, hot, and fucking perfect, my hips buck up before I can stop them.
His forearm comes down across my hips and pins me to the bed, holding me still while he takes me deeper.
The loss of control should scare me but instead it excites me.
I can’t move. Can’t escape the delicious suction.
He’s holding me exactly where he wants me and there’s nothing for me to do but feel it, and take it, and revel in it.
The pleasure climbs fast, too fast, gathering hot and tight at the base of my spine.
My thighs are shaking as my free hand fists in the silk comforter.
I’m right at the edge, so close, so fucking fast, and a sound of pure want escapes me.
He pulls off me and I groan with pure frustration. He huffs a quiet laugh against my inner thigh, his breath warm on my skin, and I feel that laugh travel all the way through me.
“It’s not funny,” I grumble.
He grins up at me, a lock of dark hair on his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there, tesoro. Just not too quickly.”
He kisses his way back up my body, unhurried, like he has all night to torture me.
His mouth drags over my flesh, each press of his lips slow and deliberate.
By the time he reaches my mouth I’m trembling, strung tight, goosebumps rising on my skin.
He kisses me deep and I taste my pre-cum on his tongue.
I reach down between us, fumbling, and get my hands on the waistband of his slacks.
I want them off. I want nothing between us.
He helps me, shoving them down and kicking them away.
Then he’s bare against me, all that heat and weight pressed skin to skin.
The hard length of him drags against my cock and his breath shudders.
“Wanted to fuck you so bad,” he says hoarsely. “Didn’t think you wanted me.”
“I do,” I whimper, looking up and letting him see my need. “I want you inside me, Marcello. Fuck, it’s all I can think about at night.”
“Yeah?” For a moment he just stays there, braced over me, his forehead dropping to mine.
I can feel him holding himself back, the tremor of restraint running through his arms. His cock is heavy where it’s pressed between us and I rock up against it, wanting, and he hisses through his teeth. “You think about me at night?”
“Every fucking night. I have to touch myself. Need you inside me,” I plead.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “It’s been too long. I want to take my time with you.”
He kisses me again, slow, while his hand skims down my body, fingertips trailing over my chest, my stomach, lower.
He wraps his hand around me and strokes me, root to tip, and I gasp into his mouth as slick oozes out of my hole.
He brings me to the edge again, then with a smile his hand moves lower.
I whine as two of his fingers find my slick entrance and he presses them inside me.
The burning stretch makes me hiss. He works his fingers in deep, slow, curling them until he finds the spot that makes my hips jerk and my breath stutter.
He stays there, stroking, patient, drawing it out while I writhe under him.
I’m rocking down onto his hand, shameless now, past caring how I look or sound, and he watches my face the whole time with those dark heavy eyes.
“Marcello,” I plead. “Please. I need—”
“I know what you need.” He withdraws his fingers and I feel the loss of them like an ache. “I need it too.”
He settles between my thighs. I feel the blunt head of him notch against me and my breath catches.
He pushes in slow. So achingly slow it’s agonizingly good.
He’s thick, and the stretch of his cock is almost too much.
But my body instinctively releases more slick and my hole accepts him, opening around him.
He watches my face for every flicker, pausing when I tense.
He waits until I breathe out and soften before he gives me more.
Inch by inch, deeper, filling me up until I’m not sure I can take any more.
But then I plead and beg and he gives me a little more still, until he’s seated all the way.
We’re both covered in sweat and shaking with the intensity of him invading my body.
I feel every hot, thick inch of him inside me.
We just breathe, joined, his heart hammering against my chest where we’re pressed together.
The fullness of him is overwhelming. I feel split open and held at once, and the bond is whirring bright between us.
His eyes burn with a possessive hunger that thrills me because I feel the same greedy need.
“Feel me inside you, Elio?” he rumbles.
“I feel you,” I whimper, panting at the almost painful stretch of him.
He gives a filthy little smile then starts to move his hips.
“Oh, god,” I whine, as his hot shaft rubs my inner walls. “Jesus, fuck.”
“Yeah, you feel me for real now, don’t you? So deep inside you. Shall we make a baby tonight, tesoro?” He pulls almost all the way out, and then pushes slowly back in, tearing a raw, aching sound out of me.
He sets a rhythm that’s deep and unhurried, every thrust deliberate, grinding into me at the end of each one so I feel all of him.
His scent is everywhere now, thick in the warm air, that dark alpha musk gone heavier with arousal.
I breathe him in with every gasp and it winds me tighter.
My body knows his scent. Responds to it.
Every cell in me is pulled toward him. My alpha.
“Look at me,” he says, low.
I obey, although it’s not easy. Every instinct I have wants to squeeze my eyes shut, turn my face away, hide somewhere inside myself.
I don’t want to feel the things he makes me feel.
I want to pretend this moment means nothing.
It’s not supposed to mean anything. That was the whole point of the contract, wasn’t it?
Yet the look in Marcello’s eyes says he’s never letting me go.
That I belong to him. It’s confusing, but exciting.
What would it be like to truly be his? To let him be in charge?
I’ve had to be strong for so long, a part of me yearns to just let him take over.
Tears prick hot at the corners of my eyes.
No one has ever looked at me the way he’s doing.
Like they want to protect me. Take care of me.
Let me lean on them, instead of me holding them up.
I whimper at the fear of letting go. Letting him see inside me.
But his dark eyes burn into me until I can’t remember what it is I’m afraid of.
“That’s right, let go,” he breathes. His teeth are gritted and his eyes have gone black. “Give me everything.”
I nod as if I’m hypnotized. Drugged.