“Vincenzo, I’m— Oh God, I’m going to—” Her words dissolve into incoherent whimpers.
“Come for me,” I growl, gripping her ass harder, grinding her down against me. “Come all over my cock. Let me feel you.”
I feel it when she climaxes, her arms locked tight around me and her high-pitched cries in my ear. Her whole body goes rigid, then starts shaking, and I feel her pussy contracting against my shaft. A fresh flood of wetness coats my cock as she comes. Fuck, does this girl squirt? I need to make her burst all over my face. My hands. My cock. She’s sobbing my name, riding out her orgasm with jerky, desperate movements that keep the pleasure rolling through her.
The sight and feel of her coming undoes me completely.
I wrap both my arms around her and hold her tight, thrusting against her sharply, once, twice, three times.
“Fuck, doe.” Pleasure bursts through me. My cock pulses, and hot ropes of cum shoot out, painting her stomach, her pussy, making a mess of both of us. I keep thrusting through it, grinding against her oversensitive flesh, drawing out every last pulse of my orgasm until I’m completely spent.
My body goes limp, except for my arms that are holding her. We’re both panting and trembling, and I can feel my cum cooling on her skin, mixing with her wetness between us. The smell of sex fills the car, musky and raw and perfect.
She lays against me for several minutes, moving up and down on my chest with my breathing. Then she slowly sits up and pushes back, looking down at the mess we’ve made. There’s cum on her skirt and my T-shirt, and a thrill goes through me when I see her smile.
“That was…” she whispers.
“Fucking incredible,” I finish for her.
Tenderness for this beautiful, proud, and vulnerable woman washes through me. I reach up and take her face in my hands, making her look at me.
“I’ve never come that hard in my life,” I tell her, my voice raw with honesty. “Never felt anything close to what I just felt with you. You’re mine now. You understand? After that, after feeling you come on my cock, after marking you with my cum—you’re fucking mine.”
Her eyes are glazed with satisfaction, pupils blown wide, and she looks thoroughly debauched. “Say you’re mine too,” she whispers, and there’s a desperate edge to it. “Please, Vincenzo. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I promise, stroking her flushed cheeks. “Every part of me. No one else is ever going to touch you like this, makeyou feel like this. And no one else is ever going to have me. Just you, Adora. Only you.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and I can see the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. I press my forehead to hers.
“I don’t expect you to save yourself for some arbitrary date, and I won’t demand anything from you on our wedding night. I want things to happen between us whenwewant them. As they did just now. Because, doe, that was the most wonderful experience of my life.”
Tears of disbelief and hope fill her eyes. “Really?”
“Really. Seeing you enjoy yourself, seeing you desire me, that’s so fucking precious. The only ones who matter in this marriage are you and me, okay?”
She nods, her eyes silvery bright with emotion. “Okay.”
“Marry me?” I whisper, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs. We’re already technically engaged, an arrangement that happened because of her hateful father, but I want our story to be ours. I want Adora to remember this moment. parked on a dark street after pulling off a heist together, both of us still riding the high of survival. I’m asking her to be my wife because I want her, not because of duty or revenge.
A huge smile spreads over her face. “Yes, Vincenzo.”
Relief and joy crash through me in equal measure. I pull her closer, threading my fingers through her hair, tilting her face up to mine.
This kiss is different from the others. Slower. Deeper. Like I’m sealing a promise. She melts against me, her lips soft and yielding and tasting like hope, which is something I’d lost until I met her. I pour everything I can’t say yet into this kiss. My gratitude, my need, and the terrifying realization that she’s become everything to me without my permission.
When I finally pull back, just enough to speak, my forehead rests against hers.
“I’m falling for you, doe,” I whisper. “My life is in your hands.”
Adora pulls back sharply, like I’ve burned her. She doesn’t need to sayI love you. It’s not my intention to demand anything from her, but I wasn’t expecting the shock that floods her face. Or the fear that follows it.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not, doe?” I reach for her, but she pulls farther away.
She turns her face to the side, unable to meet my eyes.
Apprehension curls through my belly. Have I completely misread her? I thought there was affection and desire between us, a growing mutual respect. She just said yes to marrying me, but now she’s cringing away from me like I’ve trapped her.
