And if I get to enjoy that forever, I’m a lucky woman.
“Come for me, Luisa.” His voice is ragged as he meets every thrust, lifting his hips into mine, dragging me deeper.
I tangle my fingers in his thick, dark hair, jerking his head back. I want him to look at me as I ride him harder, faster. “Make mecome, Angelo. Claim me.”
His grin is wicked. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
He flips us in an instant, pinning me beneath him. And then he ruins me. His handsgrip tight, his mouth devours, his cock owns me.
I arch, moaning his name, clawing his back, biting his shoulder. I give him everything, and he takes it all. He talks me through it, his voice thick, dark, worshiping me.
“You’re so precious, Topolina. I love how you take charge. So beautiful, so fucking perfect.”
I whimper, gripping his ass, dragging him deeper. “Angelo!”
His voice turns to silk, dark and commanding. “Come for me, vita mia.” But I’m still holding back.
He grabs my thigh, jerks it around his waist. His palm cracks against my ass.
“I said come, naughty girl.” His voice is a growl now. “Stop holding back and come like my good girl.” Another slap. And I shatter. But he isn’t done.
He rolls me over, grips my hip and breast, pounds into me. Every time I come, he flips me, changes positions, takes more.
Until he has me on the window seat, Venice glowing below, the canal dark and endless beneath us. I ride him, his head tilted back, the city behind him.
I stare at Italy.
Then I stare at the man I’m fucking.
He’s riding the edge, his abs flexing, his groans thick and raw, until I feel them more than I hear them. But I don’t move.
I want to own him the way he’s owned every second thought in my head since I woke up.
“Vita, mia ... please. I need you to come. I need you to get up, I need-”
“You’re not in control.” I dig my nails into his chest. “You’ll come when I say. And today?” I grind down, watching his jaw go tight. “You’re coming inside me.”
He groans, grips the window frame and thrusts into me while his other hand grips my hip and holds me down. I pant, exhausted, dewy with sweat, embracing every thrust he gives me. I feel every pulse, every deep, exhausted thrust as he gives in.
The breeze cools our sweat-slicked skin, ruffles his hair, but he doesn’t move until he lifts me.
He carries me to bed. Sets me down like I’m something precious.
Warmth trails down my thigh, but he doesn’t look away from my face. His expression unreadable.
He crouches beside me, brushing my hair back.
“You let me?—”
“I have an implant.” My voice is hoarse. “I wanted to see if you’d do it.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. He crawls into bed, pulls me against him.
We’re quiet for a long time. I know he’s used to the silence. I haven’t been talkative.
Starling pokes too close to the open window, and I move—but Angelo keeps me in place.
