“I know you’re not,” he replies. He glances at his hands, then slips them behind his back. His eyes flick to me—warm and patient, yet shadowed by something unspoken. He props himself up on his elbows. “Control this, Luisa.”
“Why?” The word lashes out, edged with suspicion.
A low chuckle escapes him as his cocktaps his belly. I press my tongue to my bottom lip. I want him—I’ve wanted him since he helped me gather the scattered pieces of my morning, since every dream and every memory of him, even when he’s just strutting in a towel.
“Because you claimed I can’t live without control—that control is everything to me. But I’ve found something else… something more important.” His gaze never wavers. “Use me how you want, Luisa. If you want it rough or gentle—set the pace and show me.”
He wants me in charge?
Well, I’m not turning that down. Instead of pouncing on him, I drop to my knees between his feet. Angelo watches me—his eyes darkening, his cheeks blooming pink—as I trace over his knees and along his thighs, brushing the scar from the bullet he took when I tried to save him.
I press my lips to that tender mark, and he hisses against his teeth. I glance up at him, then tilt my head, letting my lip trail along his shaft all the way to the tip of his cock. He remains rooted, resisting his own desire, not daring to touch me.
I continue exploring him with my tongueand lips, savoring the low, eager growls from his throat when he teeters on the edge—a frustrated huff when I pull back.
“You’re torturing me, vita mia,” he groans.
“Just like you did to me every day of your house arrest—walking around practically naked, always flirting... making me question everything. Pushing my buttons.”
“You never let on,” he growls.
I slide my lips around the head of his cock and take him deep. He groans, collapsing onto his elbows as he pants. I pull back, then flatten my tongue over his tip, teasing him until he bites his bottom lip.
“If I let myself feel anything but hate for you back then, we would have been fucking every day. I would have betrayed everything. I would have ...” I don’t have the words so I focus on blowing him instead.
I didn’t let myself think about anything but work. I refused to see any of Angelo’s good qualities. How dedicated he is, how moral he is, how good he is, even if it’s not in line with the law. Sure, he’s bloodthirsty and has killed, but so have I. I’ve killed bad people too. And Angelo, beautiful,commanding, sharp Angelo, left his father, left that side of the mafia all for me.
Angelo forced me to take the night off because he knew I’d fight. He knew I’d get hurt. He cares.
“Fuck, Luisa, stop. Stop. I’m not ready to come. Not yet, please,” he begs as his cock twitches in my throat.
I moan and ease off him. I already miss how he feels filling my throat, but I can fix that. I climb on top of him, rubbing over his abs, along his pecs, across his shoulders, then roll myself on him.
“If you flip us, I’m going to walk away,” I whisper.
“Oh, is that the rule?” he teases.
“It is.”
“Then I’ll have to wait for you to beg me to flip you so I can fuck you into the mattress,” he says.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not going to ask for a damn thing, baby.”
I guide his cock where I need it, then ease down his length.
Angelo groans, his head falling back, but his eyes stay locked right there—watching where he disappears inside me.
He exhales sharply, shakes his head. “I wasted so much time under house arrest.”
“Yeah, you did,” I tease, rolling my hips, riding him how I need. “Should’ve kissed me sooner.”
I drag his hands where I want them—one to my clit, the other cupping my breast.
He groans against my lips, letting me take, letting me use him the way I want.
I kiss him between moans, hungry, breathless, and fuck—this is just the start.
Angelo is a man who always pushes, gives, takes. A man who makes everything more.
