The air leaves me entirely when his hand slides lower, fingers wrapping around the length of my cock.
I scream, and rock into his fist shamelessly, rutting against his palm like I’d die without it. Maybe I will.
“Has anyone touched you?” His grip suddenly tightens at the base, forcing my hips to a painful, trembling standstill. “In three years, has anyone touched you like this?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, the darkness behind my lids swirling. The humiliation burns almost as hot as the need, a bitter taste in the back of my throat.
“No,” I grit out.
His scent thickens instantly, turning possessive. He lets go of my cock, and I make a sound like I’m dying, but then his fingers slide further, down my balls, through the slick taint, andoh god, oh fuck—
One finger presses against my hole, and I shatter.
Just that. One fingertip barely breaching me, and I’m sobbing, shaking apart, shoving my hips down to impale myself on it.
“Easy,” Enzo murmurs. “You’re tight. Even with all this slick.”
He pulls his finger out slowly, then pushes back in with two.
The stretch makes me keen. “Just fuck me. Please. I can’t—please just—”
He releases my wrists, and my hands fly to his chest immediately, tearing at his shirt, ripping buttons in my desperation to get it off. His chest is everything I expected and worse—sculpted muscle under tan skin, dusted with dark hair that trails down his stomach and disappears beneath his waistband.
I drag my fingers down the hard planes of his pecs, and a jolt of dark satisfaction hits me when I feel him shudder beneath my touch. Good. I’m not the only one coming apart; he’s not nearly as immune to me as he wants to seem.
“You’re going to hate yourself for this.” He’s working his belt open even as he says it. “Hate me for it.”
“Already hate you.” I’m pulling at his pants, graceless and frantic. “What’s a little more?”
He makes a sound that’s half laugh and a curse, and then his cock springs free.
“Good lord,” I exhale. He’s big. Thick and heavy and slightly curved, with a prominent vein tracing the length of the shaft. The swollen head is flushed a deep shade of red, glistening with the first signs of his own need.
Looking at it, I know it’s going to hurt, but my heat-fueled body doesn’t care about logistics or pain or the fact that I haven’t done this in years.
It just wants.
And right now, it wants Enzo’s thick, fat, alpha cock.
He settles between my legs, the blunt head of his cock nudging my entrance.
“Last chance,” he rasps, voice rough and barely controlled. “Tell me to stop.”
I meet his eyes. They’re wild and dark with lust. The alpha in him straining against whatever threadbare leash of control he’s still clinging to.
“Fuck you.” It comes out weaker than I intended. “I hate this. I hate that it’s you. I hate that my body wants—”
“I know.” He presses his forehead to mine, and we’re breathing the same air, sharing the same heat. “I know, baby. But your body knows what it needs, even if your mind can’t accept it.”
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, but I’m arching into him even as I say it, hips tilting up shamelessly and needy.
God, I hate him.
And I need him so fucking bad.
“Then tell me to stop.” The head of his cock teases my rim, a brutal, mocking pressure that stays right on the edge of breaching. “Say the word, and I’ll find another way. I’ll call a doctor. Get you help that isn’t me inside you.”
I should take the offer. Tell him to let me die with my dignity intact.
