"I need—" He broke off. Kissed me again. "I need you."
"I've got you." I pulled him closer. "What do you need, Stefan? Tell me."
"I don't know." His hands fisted in my shirt. "I just—tonight, everyone was staring. Everyone knew. And I should feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like you just put a target on my back by making it public." He looked up at me. "But I don't. I feel safe. Protected. Like I finally belong somewhere."
"You do belong." I kissed him slowly. Thoroughly. "You belong here. With me."
"Show me." His voice was rough. Demanding. "Show me I'm yours like you told everyone tonight."
Something primal roared to life in my chest.
I'd claimed Stefan publicly tonight. Made sure every person in that club knew he was mine. But Stefan needed to feel it. Needed the physical proof to match the public declaration.
I could do that.
I stripped him efficiently. The dark jeans I'd bought him. The soft shirt. Until he was bare beneath me. Exposed. Beautiful.
"You were so good tonight," I told him, kissing down his throat. "So brave. Walking into that club knowing everyone would stare. Letting me touch you. Claim you. Show everyone you chose me."
"I did choose you." His breath hitched as my teeth grazed his collarbone. "In front of everyone. No taking it back now."
"No taking it back," I agreed. "You're mine, Stefan. And everyone knows it."
I worked my way down his body. Kissing. Biting. Leaving marks that would remind him tomorrow of what we did tonight. Of how thoroughly he'd been claimed.
When I took him in my mouth, Stefan cried out. His hands flew to my hair. Gripping. Holding on.
"Matteo—fuck—I can't—"
I pulled off. "You can. You will. I'm going to take you apart, Stefan. Going to make you feel exactly how much you're mine."
I brought him to the edge. Watched him tremble. Listened to him beg. Then pulled back before he could fall over.
"Not yet," I said. "I want you desperate. Want you so far gone you can't think about anything except this. Except us."
"I'm already there." His voice was wrecked. "Please, Matteo. I need—"
"I know what you need." I moved back up his body. Kissed him hard enough to bruise. "Turn over."
He did. Immediately. Trusting. Offering himself completely.
The sight of him like that—face down, vulnerable, mine—made something possessive and dark curl in my chest.
I prepared him slowly. Thoroughly. Three fingers stretching him while he gasped and pushed back. Making sure he was ready. Making sure this would be good for him.
When I finally pushed inside, we both groaned.
"God, you feel incredible," I said, holding still. Letting us both adjust. "So perfect. So mine."
"Yes." Stefan's voice was muffled against the pillow. "Yours. All yours."
I started to move. Slow at first. Long deep strokes that let us both feel every inch. But the emotion building in my chest demanded more. Demanded I prove my claim. Demanded I make Stefan feel exactly how thoroughly he belonged to me.
I gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. Pulled him back to meet each thrust. The angle was deep. Intense. Hitting that spot inside him that made him cry out.
"Everyone knows now," I said, my voice rough. "Everyone in that club saw you with me. Saw you choose me. Tomorrow every family in New York will hear about it. Giuseppe will hear about it. Your brothers. Everyone."
"Good." Stefan pushed back harder. Meeting me thrust for thrust. "Let them know. Let everyone know I'm yours."
