"Yes, you are." I traced the mark with my tongue. "You're mine, Valentino. Have been since you deleted that footage. Since you chose your career over exposing me. That choice made you mine."
"That's not—" His protest died as I found his nipple with my teeth.
I worked him over methodically. Mapping his body with hands and mouth. Finding what made him gasp, what made him arch, what made his breathing go ragged. Every response was cataloged, learned, stored away for later use.
His hands were in my hair now, pulling almost painfully. I didn't care. The loss of control was intoxicating. I'd spent months being measured, precise, performing for everyone around me. With Valentino I could just be hungry. Possessive. Real.
I shoved his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Undid his jeans with hands that weren't quite steady. He washard already, straining against his boxer briefs. I palmed him through the fabric and watched his head fall back against the wall.
"Luca—" My name came out broken. Desperate.
"What do you need?" I asked. My voice was dark. Commanding. "Tell me what you want."
"I don't—" He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.
"Yes, you do." I tightened my grip and he gasped. "You know exactly what you want. Say it."
"I want you to—" He bit his lip. Couldn't get the words out.
"Want me to what?" I kissed along his jaw. Down his throat. Bit hard enough to leave another mark. "Want me to fuck you against this wall? Want me to make you come so hard you forget your own name? Want me to prove that you're mine?"
"Yes." The word was barely a breath. "All of it. Yes."
That permission unleashed something feral in me.
I yanked his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock. He was beautifully hard, flushed and leaking. I wrapped my hand around him and stroked once, firmly. He nearly came off the wall.
"We're doing this properly," I said. "Against the wall first because I can't wait. Then over the desk because I want you spread out where I can see all of you. Understand?"
He nodded frantically.
I released him just long enough to grab lube from my desk drawer—I'd been prepared for this possibility even if I hadn't consciously admitted it. Slicked my fingers and reached between his thighs.
"Spread your legs," I ordered.
He did. Trusting me despite the hate. Despite everything.
I worked him open with more care than I felt capable of. One finger. Then two. Watching his face the whole time. He was gorgeous like this—defenses stripped away, need writtenacross every feature. When I crooked my fingers and found his prostate, he made a sound that was pure desperation.
"Please—" He was begging now. All that defiance reduced to incoherent need. "Please, Luca, I can't—"
"You can. And you will." I added a third finger and worked him until he was shaking. Until he was open and desperate and exactly where I wanted him. I hiked his leg up around my waist, exposing him.
I withdrew my fingers and he made a sound of protest that turned to a moan when I undid my own pants and freed my cock. I was painfully hard, had been since the moment he walked through the door. I slicked myself with shaking hands and lined up.
"Last chance to say no," I said against his ear. "Last chance to walk away."
"Fuck you." His hands fisted in my shirt. "Don't you dare stop now."
I pushed in slowly. Watching his face. Watching him take me inch by inch until I was seated fully inside him. He was tight and hot and perfect. Everything I'd imagined and more.
"Look at me," I commanded.
His eyes opened. Met mine. Hazel and dark with desire and still furious.
"You're mine," I said. "Say it."
"I'm—" He couldn't finish. I pulled out and thrust back in hard. "Fuck—Luca—"
