Her breath catches on the realization—on the weight of my want pressing into the space between us. My control fractures another inch.
“If you keep holding me like this…” she murmurs, voice dipping into something thin and dangerous, “you know what’s going to happen.”
“I do. We both do.”
“I’m going to lose what’s left of my fucking mind, and I’m going to make you beg.”
My hand in her hair, my body pressed against hers, close enough that I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her clothes. Close enough that I can smell her—jasmine and something darker, something that’s all her. My cock is a steel rod against my zipper, aching, throbbing, demanding.
“Then stop me,” I growl, my voice rough with need.
Her lips part. For a second, I think she’s going to. I think she’s going to shove me back, slap me. But then her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip, and her eyes darken.
“Make me,” she whispers.
That’s all it takes.
"You're not walking away, you’re playing a dangerous game, Pia," I murmur, my voice low and rough. I lean in again, close enough to feel her breath on my lips. "Do you know what I'm capable of?"
She swallows hard, but her chin stays high. "I'm not afraid of you, Santino," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Here I am, I’m not moving."
I kiss her harder this time. Not gentle. Not slow. Not anything resembling control.
My hand slams into her hair, fingers tangling in those dark waves, gripping tight enough to make her gasp. Her lips part under mine, and I take advantage, my tongue sweeping in to claim her. She tastes like sin and salvation, like everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I’ve sworn to destroy. Her hands fly up—one fisting in my shirt, the other pressing against my chest like she’s trying to push me away.
She doesn’t. She pulls me closer, her nails digging into the fabric, into my skin beneath, like she’s trying to crawl inside me and never come out.
A broken sound tears from her throat, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
Her body arches into mine, soft and needy for the briefest second—just long enough to remind me that beneath all that fire, all that defiance, she’s human. And she wants me. Even if she hates herself for it.
I crash into her again, my mouth sealing over hers, my tongue plunging inside. She moans into the kiss, a deep, gutturalsound that vibrates through my entire body. Her hands are in my hair now, gripping, pulling, like she’s trying to climb me. Like she can’t get close enough.
I can’t either.
I need more.
I need everything.
My free hand slides down her side, over the curve of her hip, gripping tight before I yank her against me. She gasps as her stomach presses against my cock, the heat of her searing through the layers of fabric between us. I grind into her, unable to stop myself, and she moans, a broken, needy sound that makes my vision blur.
“Fuck,” I groan against her lips, my voice raw. “You feel that? You feel what you do to me?”
She doesn’t answer. Can’t. Because I’m kissing her again, deeper this time, my tongue fucking her mouth like I wish I was fucking her cunt. Her legs part slightly, just enough that I can slide my thigh between hers, pressing up, up, until I feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her dress.
She’s wet.
So fucking wet.
She whimpers, her hips rolling against my thigh, seeking friction. I give it to her, grinding up, my cock throbbing in time with the movement. Her nails rake down my back, over my ass, gripping tight as she rides my thigh, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.
“That’s it,” I growl, my lips trailing down her throat. “Grind that pretty cunt against me. Let me feel how wet you are.”
She moans, her head falling back against the wall, giving me better access. I bite down on the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder, and she cries out, her hips stuttering.
“Santino—” she gasps, her voice breathless. “Please—”
“Please what?” I murmur against her skin, my hand sliding up to palm her breast through her dress. She’s full, heavy, the nipple already hard beneath my touch. I squeeze, just hard enough to make her whimper, and she arches into me, offering more. “Use your words, mi reina.”
