"Louder."
"Yours!" I'm shaking. I'm so close already. "It's yours, Luca, please?—"
"Please what?" He curls his fingers and hits something inside me that makes me see stars. "Use your words."
"Please make me come."
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away and I whimper at the loss. "When you come, it's going to be on my cock. Understood?"
I nod frantically.
He lifts me in one smooth motion. My legs wrap around his waist automatically. My back hits the cold tile wall and I gasp at the contrast with the hot water still pouring over us.
His cock is hard and thick between us. I can feel it pressing against my entrance. It's so close but not close enough.
"Look at me," he commands.
I force my eyes open. He's staring at me with an intensity that should terrify me. His eyes are dark. His jaw is clenched. Every muscle in his body is taut with restraint.
"You're mine," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement of fact.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I'm yours." The words come easier now. Maybe because they're true. Maybe because I'm too desperate to care anymore.
"All of you." He reaches between us, positions himself. The head of his cock pushes against me. "Every. Fucking. Inch."
He slams inside.
I scream. I can't help it. He's so thick, stretching me almost to the point of pain. He's filling me so completely I can barely breathe.
He doesn't move. He just holds me there, pinned to the wall, impaled on his cock.
"Breathe," he orders against my ear.
I try. My body is adjusting. The burn is fading into something else. Something better.
"That's it. Take it." His hips pull back slowly. Almost all the way out. Then he drives back in.
It's hard. Deep. The angle makes me feel every thick inch of him.
"Oh god?—"
"Not god." Another brutal thrust. "Me. Say my name."
"Luca!"
"Again."
"Luca!" I'm clinging to him. My nails are raking down his back. He doesn't slow. He doesn't gentle. He just fucks into me with a single-minded intensity that steals my breath.
His hand finds my clit again. Rubbing in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much.
"I can't—I'm going to?—"
"Yes you can." His voice is rough. Strained. "Hold it."
