Maybe we should’ve used a condom.
Marco wasn’t the type to be careless, wasn’t the type to lose control. But right now? He didn’t seem to have any.
His breath was ragged against my throat, his grip tightening, and I felt it—how badly he wanted this. How badly he wantedme. There was nothing careful about the way he was fucking me. Nothing restrained in the way he was chasing his release.
He wasn’t just losing control; he was choosing not to have it. He buried himself deep, his grip anchoring me in place like he wasn’t letting me go until he’d taken everything.
“Valentina.”
His voice was raw, almost like a warning, but he didn’t stop me. He didn’t slow me down. He let me take what I wanted, let me push him right to the edge.
I could feel how close he was; the way his muscles tensed beneath my hands; the way his grip flexed against my skinlike he was battling with himself, fighting that last thread of restraint.
I leaned in, pressing my lips to his ear. “Don’t hold back,” I whispered, dragging my nails down his chest. “I want to feel you.”
Marco groaned and tipped his head back, his hands tightening like he was about to snap. “Fuck.”
I rocked against him harder, chasing my own pleasure, losing myself in the way he filled me, stretched me; in the way his eyes burned into mine, filled with something primal—something desperate.
His fingers slid around the back of my neck, dragging my mouth to his and swallowing my gasps as he thrust up into me, hard, deep, and unrelenting. The pleasure coiled tight in my stomach, stealing every ounce of breath from my lungs.
My body tightened as pleasure ripped through me so violently I almost couldn’t hold myself up. Marco cursed under his breath, and then?—
He let go.
His fingers dug into my waist, pulling me down hard as he buried himself inside me, his body tensing beneath mine. His breath stuttered, his jaw clenched, and then he groaned low in his throat, his head falling forward as he spilled inside me, his grip never loosening, never letting me go.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
The only sound in the room was our ragged breathing, the aftershocks of what had just happened still pulsing between us. My skin was flushed, slick with sweat, my thighs trembling around him. I could still feel him inside me, still feel the way he’d taken everything—given everything.
Marco’s hands didn’t leave my waist. His fingers pressed in firm, like he wasn’t ready to let me go. His forehead restedagainst my shoulder, and I could feel his breath, warm against my skin. His heart was still hammering, just like mine.
I should say something.
I should move.
I should do anything other than sit here, still wrapped around him, still feeling the heat of him as if it weren’t seared into me already. But I didn’t. Instead I lifted my hand and threaded my fingers through his hair.
Marco didn’t move. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, still burning with something I couldn’t name. Something that made my stomach twist and my chest feel too tight.
He wasn’t done with me.
I was in trouble.
His grip loosened just enough for me to pull away and lift myself off him. The loss of him sent a shiver through me, but I ignored it, swinging my leg over him to stand. I reached for my skirt, but before I could tug it back down, his gaze dropped lower—right between my thighs.
I followed his line of sight, my breath catching as I saw exactly what he was looking at.
Him.
Dripping out of me.
Marco’s jaw ticked. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything at first. He just watched as if he were only now processing what he’d done.
“Go piss,” he demanded.
“Pissing isn’t a contraceptive, lawyer,” I said, rolling my eyes.
