Isabella
His face softens then hardens as he weighs my request. I can see the battle raging in his dark eyes.
It’s a heady feeling to see how he wants me, while simultaneously disheartening to know that he can resist me.
Of course, I understand the hesitation. While there’s no love lost between my family and his, crossing this line with me now would be seen as an act of disrespect so large, it could result in war.
The fact that I’ve asked him to cross that line boggles my mind.
I've spent my entire life being told what to do, how to behave, what to wear, and now I've thrown caution to the wind, asking this dangerous man to take my virginity on a rooftop a week before our wedding.
My father would kill me, and that’s not hyperbole.
Yet I don't regret asking. For once, I want something to be my decision.
"I know what I'm asking. I know what it means if anyone finds out." I press my palm more firmly against him, feeling emboldened by his barely contained groan. “But what about what I want?”
Alessandro's eyes darken, and I see his control begin to slip. His hand moves to my face, thumb brushing my lower lip with exquisite tenderness. “What you want isn’t in question. It’s when.”
I want to challenge him, to taunt him by saying he’s afraid of my family. But that would be childish.
And of course, there’s so much riding on our marriage, so many men whose lives are in the balance for this peace to work.
His breathing changes as I more boldly rub the hard length behind his slacks. I’m desperate to see him. To see what effect I have on him. To know that he burns with need like I do. Even after he’s already touched me in ways no one ever has before, I want more. I want it all.
"Isabella—" he starts, his voice strained.
"If you won't take me fully tonight, then at least show me how to please you." I squeeze my hand around him.
His eyes flash.
My hands hover at his belt, desperate to feel him. "Teach me, Alessandro. Show me what you like."
"Your father—"
"Isn't here." I step closer, pressing my body against his.
For a heartbeat, I think he'll refuse. Push me away. Be the responsible one. But then his hand covers mine at his belt, guiding me.
"You have no idea what you're asking," he murmurs, but there's heat behind his words.
"Then show me." I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. "I may be inexperienced, but I'm not afraid. Not of this. Not of you."
His expression shifts. In his eyes, I see a decision being made.
And I know I've won.
His hand engulfs mine, warm and steady, as he leads me toward a plush lounge chair nestled between flowering plants. The city lights twinkle below us, the stars twinkle above, but my focus narrows to this man, this moment.
"Last chance to walk away." His voice is rough with restraint.
I answer by reaching for his zipper.
“This isn’t going to be romantic, Isabella. It’s going to be quick, even rough. Your first time should have more care than I can give at this moment.”
“You won’t change my mind.”
His fingers find the hem of my dress, slowly gathering the material upward. I stand perfectly still, heart racing as his hands slide higher, brushing against the lace of my underwear.
"Are you certain?" he asks one final time.
"I've never been more certain of anything."
He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric, pulling downward with excruciating slowness. I step out of my panties, feeling utterly exposed despite still wearing my dress.
“Lie down.”
I do as he says, my eyes watching as he undoes his belt and pants, shoving them down along with his briefs. He springs loose and for a moment, I second guess this decision. He is so long, so thick, and I can’t imagine him inside me without hurting me.
He lies over me, his fingers finding me again. “You’re wet, but you’re also trembling.”
"Not from fear."
He smirks as he guides himself to my entrance. “Liar.”
I brace my hands on his shoulders. Our eyes lock, and something in the air shifts. It’s still electric with desire, but there’s something else. A caring in his gaze I wouldn’t have expected from the fierce Don.
He presses against me, and I hold my breath as I anticipate how this will feel. Initial resistance gives way to a sharp pinch that makes me wince. Alessandro freezes, but I shake my head, determined to continue.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp.
“Fuck… ” He groans as he continues, his face contorted as if he’s fighting against himself.
“Do it… ”
He thrusts. The shock of it forces the air from my lungs. He stills, his breath harsh in my ear. “Breathe, Isabella… ”
I feel claimed in the most primal way. Not as property, but as a woman choosing her own path.
I suck in a breath, and the pain softens.
He withdraws, and I’m afraid he’s stopping, but then he pushes in again.
The pain lessens even more, transforming into a different sort of pressure.
There’s a growing, insistent throbbing that demands movement.
Instinctively, I rock against him, gasping at the sensation.
His hands tighten on my hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He pulls back then drives in again. It takes a few times, but soon, I’m moving with him in a rhythm that builds slowly.
"You feel—" he starts, but words seem to fail him.
In this moment, I've never felt more powerful, more alive.
Alessandro's breathing grows ragged. His hands grip my hips tighter, fingers pressing into my flesh. I watch, fascinated, as the composed, calculating Don struggles against his baser instincts.
He shifts, drives in, grinding against me. The movement ratchets up the coiling need building inside me.
His eyes flash, dark and dangerous. He slides his hand down my thigh, lifting it higher on his hip as he thrusts again. The movement drives him deeper.
“Oh!” I gasp as it pushes me closer and closer to what feels like an edge.
Something snaps. Alessandro's hips surge forward, stealing my breath. His movements grow urgent, powerful, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through my core. It feels like he’s lost himself. Lost control. All because of me.
I’m drunk on the power of knowing that this dangerous man is coming undone because of me.
"Look at me," he commands.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with an intensity that would frighten me if it didn't thrill me so completely. In his gaze, I see wonder and possessiveness.
“Come, Isabella. Come on my cock. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” The pressure builds inside me again, different from before. It’s stronger, more consuming. My body tightens around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. The sound of his pleasure pushes me over the edge, and I shatter for a second time, waves of ecstasy washing through me.
Alessandro loses control. He’s driving hard, harder… fast, faster. “Fuuuuuuck!” He plunges in, shuddering inside me. The sensation of him spilling himself deep within my body triggers another wave of pleasure.
We remain locked together, our bodies still connected as our breathing slowly returns to normal. I feel the weight of him, the heat of his skin against mine, and something settles within me. A profound sense of rightness.
For the first time in my life, I've made a choice that wasn't scripted by my father or brother. My body, for once, is my own. I chose this moment. I chose this man. I chose when and how I would give myself. Who knows what will happen next, but I’ll never regret this moment.
“You okay?” Alessandro’s gaze watches me carefully.
“Yes.” I feel like the queen of the world.
His brow furrows. "What are you thinking?"
"That I finally understand what it means to have power."
He flinches, and a moment later, he’s moving off me. Immediately, I miss his warmth.
"We should return downstairs before they send a search party for you.” There’s something in his tone that unsettles me. It’s cool. Distant.
I shift slightly, feeling the pleasant soreness between my thighs.
He hands me his handkerchief. “Here. Clean up.”
I take the cloth and do as he says, surprised by the amount of his essence. When I finish, I’m not quite sure what to do with it.
He takes it from me, handing me my panties. “When we get downstairs, you’ll want to freshen up before you see your father and your brother.”
I slip my panties on wondering if something has changed about me. Is I just lost my virginity plastered on my forehead?
“Are you alright?” I ask, wondering about the change in him.
“This didn’t happen, Isabella.” His voice is dark, a command he might give any of his men.
It startles me, but it doesn’t stop me from speaking my mind. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. But it did happen, Alessandro. How dare you try to take this from me.”
I start to leave but he catches my wrist, tugging me until I turn to look at him. “I don’t know your game, but don’t forget who I am.” He drops my wrist and then strides off toward the elevator.
“Why are you angry?” I call at his back. “It’s not like I coerced you. You could have said no.”
He pokes the button to the elevator. “You don’t know shit.”