Chapter 12 #2
He growls against my throat—a sound that's more threat than pleasure. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, brutal and demanding, while his hand slides between my legs.
I'm already wet. From wanting him.
His fingers find my clit and I gasp into his mouth. He doesn't tease. He doesn't build slowly. He just rubs firm circles that make my knees buckle.
"Luca—"
"I've got you." He pushes his fingers inside me and I cry out. "Fuck, you're soaked."
"Yes." I'm panting now. I'm clinging to his shoulders.
"Say it properly." His thumb replaces his fingers on my clit while he pumps into me. It's slow. Deliberate. "Tell me whose pussy this is."
Heat floods my face but I'm too far gone to care. "Yours."
"Louder."
"Yours!" I'm shaking. I'm so close already. "It's yours, Luca, please—"
"Please what?" He curls his fingers and hits something inside me that makes me see stars. "Use your words."
"Please make me come."
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away and I whimper at the loss. "When you come, it's going to be on my cock. Understood?"
I nod frantically.
He lifts me in one smooth motion. My legs wrap around his waist automatically. My back hits the cold tile wall and I gasp at the contrast with the hot water still pouring over us.
His cock is hard and thick between us. I can feel it pressing against my entrance. It's so close but not close enough.
"Look at me," he commands.
I force my eyes open. He's staring at me with an intensity that should terrify me. His eyes are dark. His jaw is clenched. Every muscle in his body is taut with restraint.
"You're mine," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement of fact.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I'm yours." The words come easier now. Maybe because they're true. Maybe because I'm too desperate to care anymore.
"All of you." He reaches between us, positions himself. The head of his cock pushes against me. "Every. Fucking. Inch."
He slams inside.
I scream. I can't help it. He's so thick, stretching me almost to the point of pain. He's filling me so completely I can barely breathe.
He doesn't move. He just holds me there, pinned to the wall, impaled on his cock.
"Breathe," he orders against my ear.
I try. My body is adjusting. The burn is fading into something else. Something better.
"That's it. Take it." His hips pull back slowly. Almost all the way out. Then he drives back in.
It's hard. Deep. The angle makes me feel every thick inch of him.
"Oh god—"
"Not god." Another brutal thrust. "Me. Say my name."
"Luca!"
"Again."
"Luca!" I'm clinging to him. My nails are raking down his back. He doesn't slow. He doesn't gentle. He just fucks into me with a single-minded intensity that steals my breath.
His hand finds my clit again. Rubbing in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much.
"I can't—I'm going to—"
"Yes you can." His voice is rough. Strained. "Hold it."
"I can't!"
"You will." He slows fractionally. Not stopping but no longer driving me toward the edge. "Not until I say."
I whimper. I'm so close. Right on the edge. My pussy is clenching around him, desperate for release.
"Please, Luca, please—"
"Who do you belong to?" His thumb presses harder on my clit and I nearly sob.
"You!"
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You do!"
"Who's the only man who's ever going to fuck you again?"
"You! Only you!" I'm shaking. Tears streaming down my face mixing with the shower water. "Please let me come, please, I need—"
"Come." One word. Absolute command. "Now."
I shatter.
My pussy clamps down on his cock so hard I feel him groan. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. My whole body convulses. I'm dimly aware that I'm screaming his name but I can't stop.
He keeps fucking me through it. Keeps rubbing my clit. Wringing every last tremor from my body until I'm boneless. Sobbing. Completely wrung out.
Only then does he let himself go.
His rhythm breaks. Gets rougher. More erratic. He buries his face in my neck and fucks into me like an animal. No control. Just raw need.
"Mine," he growls against my throat. "Mine, mine, mine—"
He comes with a roar that echoes off the tile. I feel him pulse inside me. I feel the warmth of his release. His hips jerk several more times before he finally stills.
We stay like that for a long moment. He's still inside me. I'm wrapped around him. We're both shaking. The water is still running.
Finally, he lifts his head. He looks at me with something fierce and possessive in his eyes.
Then he kisses me. Hard. Possessive. His hand fists in my hair, forcing my head back. Marking me as his.
When he finally sets me down, my legs won't hold me. He holds me upright by the arms until I can stand.
We finish the shower in silence. He washes my hair—controlling even this, deciding when I'm clean. I let him. It's easier than thinking.
My body feels like it's been taken apart and put back together. I can still feel where he was inside me. There's a pleasant ache. The proof of ownership.
Afterward, he dries me off with a towel and leads me to his bed.
I don't ask.
He pulls back the covers and I climb in. The mattress is perfect. Not too soft. Not too hard. I sink into it and close my eyes.
I feel the bed dip as he gets in beside me. His arm comes around my waist. He pulls me back against his chest.
"A man died in your living room tonight."
"Yes."
"And you had someone come clean it up like it never happened."
"Yes."
"This is your life."
"This is my life." He tightens his hold on me. "And now it's yours too."
I should argue. I should push back. I should do something other than curl into him like he's safety instead of danger. But I'm so tired. And he's so warm. And for the first time since this started, I feel like I can breathe.
"Anyone touches you, they're dead." His voice is flat. Final. Not a promise. A fact.
I believe him.
I fall asleep with his arm locked around me, his breath on my neck.
When I wake, it's the middle of the night. Luca is still holding me. His breathing is deep and even.
I slip out of bed carefully. I grab his t-shirt from where it's draped over a chair and pull it on. I pad barefoot to the door. I open it a crack.
The hallway is quiet. The penthouse is silent.
I walk to the living room.
Everything is spotless. The floor gleams. The rug where I spilled wine is gone, replaced with a different one. There's no blood. There's no body. There's no evidence that anything happened here at all.
I stand there staring at the place where a man died. A man who wanted to kill Luca. Who would have killed me. And now he's just... gone. He's erased.
I should be horrified. I should be planning my escape while Luca sleeps. Instead, I feel safe. The wrongness of that settles in my chest. I go back to bed.
Luca doesn't wake when I take off the t-shirt and slide in beside him. He just automatically pulls me close again. His arm is heavy across my waist. His face is buried in my hair.
I press my back to his chest. What kind of person does this make me? I don't want to know. I close my eyes.