It’s all hunger and heat and possession, like he’s been starving and I’m the first real taste he’s allowed himself in years. His lips devour mine, coax and command in the same breath, stealing every thought I had before he touched me.
He tastes like wine and want and something darker I can’t name. Something dangerous. Something addictive.
His hand cups the back of my neck, tilting my head just how he likes, deepening the kiss until the world tilts with it. My breath shatters. My pulse surges. And when his tongue grazes mine, it feels like a match being struck inside my chest.
Like he’s kissing me with every intention of marking me from the inside out.
Like he’s claiming me and daring me to claim him right back.
My back hits the edge of the table. In one swift motion, he clears it—crystal, candles, cutlery—all clattering to the floor in a chaos I barely register because his hands are already on me.
I laugh, breathless, but it catches in my throat as he spins me around.
“Lorenzo—”
He lifts the skirt of my dress with slow, deliberate hands. His palm skims the back of my thigh, firm and warm.
“Do you know,” he growls low in my ear, “how many times I thought about this since I bought that dress?”
I brace my hands on the table, my pulse pounding like a drum.
He leans in, lips brushing my neck. “Now I get to unwrap my gift.”
I feel the heat of his breath as he presses against me, his hands skating up beneath the hem of the dress like he owns every inch of my skin.
His voice is rough at my ear. “Do you feel that, Elizabeth?”
I nod, unable to speak, the air thick between us, as he rubs my clit in slow circles.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I want you to remember this moment.”
The table shifts slightly beneath my palms as he moves behind me, slow and sure, every touch deliberate, every pause a tease. I groan when he slips a finger past my panties, stroking me.
“So wet,cara. Is that all for me?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter as he adds another digit.
Outside, the city glows with holiday lights. Inside, it’s all shadows and firelight and him. There’s nothing gentle in the way he takes his time. Nothing sweet in the way he demands every part of me. And I give it to him. Willingly. Desperately.
The dress rides higher. My name becomes a growl on his lips as he rubs against me.
“Lorenzo, please,” I beg.
The sound of his zipper lowering nearly has me weeping.
“You want my cock,cara?”
“Yes.”
We both groan as he slides into me. He pulls back and then stills.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says in a deep voice that has me dripping even more. “How I’d take you.”
“Me too,” I admit, glancing over my shoulder.
“Did you.” He slowly thrusts inside. “Tell me, what did you think about,cara?”
I shudder at how good I feel right now.
