"Fuck, Valentina," he groaned, his head falling back, exposing the strong column of his neck.
I smiled, a wicked glint in my eye, and took him deep into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks. He cursed, his hands tangling in my hair, his hips jerking forward.
I worked him with enthusiasm, taking him as deep as I could, using my hand for what I couldn't take. His breathing became ragged, his grip in my hair tightening.
"Stop," he said roughly, pulling me up. "I need to be inside you. Now."
He lifted me back onto the desk, positioned himself between my thighs. Our eyes locked in the dim light.
"I've got you," he murmured and thrust forward.
I gasped at the stretch, the fullness, the perfect ache of him inside me—nothing between us, completely bare. He stilled for a heartbeat, giving me time to adjust, forehead pressed against mine.
"Okay?" His voice was strained, every muscle taut with restraint.
"More than okay." I rolled my hips, taking him deeper. "Move. Please move."
He did.
Slow at first, deliberate, each thrust finding the exact right angle. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into flesh, holding me steady as he drove into me.
Papers scattered to the floor. A photo frame crashed off the desk. Neither of us cared about anything except this—the slide of skin on skin, the gasping breaths, the building pressure that threatened to consume us both.
"Harder," I demanded, nails raking down his back.
He obeyed, fucking me with an intensity that bordered on desperate. The desk creaked beneath us. I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he hit something inside me that made me cry out.
"There," I gasped. "Right there—"
He drove into that spot relentlessly, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit with devastating precision. The combination was too much. I came apart—no other word for it—pleasure rolling through me in waves until I couldn't think.
He followed seconds later, his rhythm breaking as he thrust deep and held, groaning my name against my throat as he spilled inside me.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. He pressed his forehead to mine, and I saw something vulnerable flash across his face—wonder, maybe, or fear at what we'd just done.
What it meant.
"Valentina—"
The lights went out.
Complete darkness. Every bulb, every screen, every ambient glow—extinguished.
We froze, still joined, but the moment shattered instantly as training kicked in.
"Backup generators should have kicked in," Alessio said quietly, already pulling away, tucking himself back into his pants with military efficiency. "They didn't."
I fumbled in the darkness for my discarded shorts and pulled them on with shaking hands. My body still hummed with aftershocks, but adrenaline was rapidly replacing pleasure.
"How many security measures does this penthouse have?" I asked, voice steadier than I felt.
"Twelve independent systems." His hand found mine in the darkness, squeezed once. "Someone just bypassed all of them simultaneously."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "That's not possible."
"It shouldn't be."
The sound of breaking glass shattered from somewhere below us—deliberate, controlled. Not an accident.
