"Shh. I've got you." I grabbed a condom and rolled it on. Slicked myself up. Lined up and pressed against him. "Look at me. I want to see your face when I fill you."
His eyes locked on mine. Dark and dilated and full of trust that I'd never earned but somehow had anyway.
I pushed in slowly. Watched his expression shift from want to satisfaction to something that looked almost like relief. Likethis was what he'd needed all along. Like being filled and claimed and possessed was the only thing that could quiet whatever was screaming inside his head.
"Fuck," I breathed when I was fully seated. "You feel perfect. Like you were made for this. Made for me."
"Move," he demanded. His legs wrapped around my waist. Heels digging into my ass. "Stop talking and move."
I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Hard enough to make him shout. "Like that?"
"Yes—fuck—exactly like that—"
I set a brutal pace. Deep and hard and exactly what he needed to stop thinking. To stop processing moral implications and ethical violations. To just feel.
He met me thrust for thrust. Nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks. Mouth open in a constant stream of moans and curses and my name said like a prayer.
I shifted angles slightly and nailed his prostate. He went rigid beneath me.
"There?" I did it again. "That the spot?"
"Don't stop—please don't stop—right there—"
I braced one hand beside his head and wrapped the other around his cock. Stroked him in rhythm with my thrusts. Gave him everything he needed and more.
"Come for me," I ordered. "Let me feel you. Let me see you fall apart."
His orgasm hit him like a freight train. Back arching. Mouth open in a silent scream. Cock pulsing in my hand as he came across his stomach and chest. Ass clenching around me so tight I saw stars.
I fucked him through it. Chased my own release while he trembled and gasped and held onto me like I was the only solid thing in his world.
When I came, it was with his name torn from my throat and my teeth on his shoulder. Marking him. Claiming him. Making absolutely sure he'd have a bruise to remember this by.
I collapsed on top of him. Both of us breathing hard. Sweat-slick and satisfied and completely spent.
After a moment I rolled to the side. Dealt with the condom. Grabbed tissues from the nightstand and cleaned us both up with efficiency born from practice.
Then I pulled him against my chest and just held him while our breathing returned to normal. While the endorphins faded. While reality started creeping back in around the edges.
"Three weeks until trial," he said quietly.
"Three weeks. Then we destroy them in court and Antonio learns that threatening you was the worst decision he ever made."
"You already taught him that lesson tonight."
"Tonight was a preview. The trial is where we really make him regret it." I pulled him closer. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we go back to trial prep. Tonight, just rest."
He was asleep within minutes. Exhausted from the gala and the revelations and the moral gymnastics required to justify staying with me despite knowing what I was capable of.
I held him and thought about Antonio bleeding in that service hallway. About Matteo's loss of control. About how close we'd come to creating a bigger problem than we'd solved.
But Antonio had threatened Emilio. Had laughed about terrorizing him. Had made it clear he wasn't done making Emilio's life hell.
So yes, Matteo had handled it. Perhaps not perfectly. Perhaps not with the subtlety I would have preferred. But effectively.
Antonio wouldn't be laughing anymore. Wouldn't be running his mouth. Wouldn't be threatening anyone under our protection.
And if that made me complicit in violence and intimidation and witness tampering?
