I reach for his tie, loosening it slowly. His hand catches my wrist, but he doesn't push me away. Just holds me there, suspended between yes and no.
"I'm not some boy who'll fumble around in the dark with you," he says, voice rough. "If I take you to that bed, everything changes."
"Everything already has changed." I use my free hand to trace the edge of his jaw, feeling the tension there. "Stop pretending it hasn't."
Something snaps in his eyes. One second I'm standing, the next he's lifting me like I weigh nothing, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His mouth crashes into mine, all that careful control from the party completely gone.
He carries me to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. The room is dark except for city lights filtering through the windows. When he sets me on the bed, I expect him to follow, but he stays standing, looking down at me with an expression I can't read.
"Last chance," he says, voice deadly serious. "You can still run."
Instead of answering with words, I lean back on my elbows, letting the black dress ride up my thighs. I arch slightly, watching his eyes track the movement.
"I want you to be my first," I say, and the words come out steadier than I expected. "The first to fuck me."
Lorenzo's entire body goes rigid. Then he's looming over me, hands braced on either side of my head, caging me in.
"If I do this," his voice is pure gravel now, "I'll be your first and only, Sophia. No one else touches you. Ever. You understand what that means?"
That single word breaks whatever control he was maintaining. His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and demanding. His hands find my zipper, pulling it down completely this time. The dress loosens, and Lorenzo pulls back just enough to watch as he peels it away from my body.
The cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps. I'm left in the lingerie I bought during our shopping trip. Black lace that suddenly feels like both too much and not enough. Lorenzo's eyes burn as they travel over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin.
"Beautiful," he breathes, and his hands follow the path his eyes just took.
"Stand up." Lorenzo's voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Back against the headboard."
My legs shake as I move to obey, the cool wood pressing against my spine.
"Open your legs."
Heat floods my face, but I do it, spreading my feet shoulder-width apart. My hands grip the headboard behind me for balance.
Lorenzo steps back from the bed, his fingers moving to his shirt buttons. Each one reveals more of his chest. Lean muscle, not bulky but defined in a way that speaks of strength. A thin scar runs along his ribs. His shoulders roll as he shrugs the shirt off completely.
His hands move to his belt, and my breath catches. He pushes everything down in one smooth motion, stepping out of his clothes with that same lethal grace he brings to everything.
God. His cock stands thick and hard, the length of it making my stomach clench with equal parts fear and want. The musclesof his thighs flex as he moves, a light trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. Another scar marks his hip, this one jagged like a knife wound.
Lorenzo climbs onto the bed. His hands find my thighs, pushing them wider. The black lace between my legs is soaked through.
"Already so wet for me." His fingers hook into the waistband, dragging the underwear down slowly as I close my legs to help him. The fabric catches, pulls, then slides free. He tosses it aside without looking where it lands. I open my legs again.
"Hold the headboard," he commands, positioning himself between my spread legs. "You can grip it as tight as you need, but you don't lift your body from my mouth. Not even an inch. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Good girl."
Then his mouth is on me, and every thought scatters. His tongue finds my clit immediately, circling it. My knees buckle, but his hands grip my thighs, keeping me upright and open for him.
"Fuck, you taste perfect," he groans against me, the vibration making me gasp. "Been thinking about this for days. Having you spread open for me, shaking while I eat this sweet pussy."
His tongue dips lower, pushing inside me, and my hands clench the headboard so hard my knuckles turn white. The urge to move, to grind against his face, is overwhelming, but I force myself to stay still.
"That's it," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak. "Be a good girl and take it. Let me taste every inch of you."
He sucks my clit between his lips, and I gasp every time. My legs tremble violently, but Lorenzo's grip keeps me in place, keeps me exactly where he wants me.
