The panic loosens by degrees. Not because anything is fixed. Just because he is giving my body something else to drown in.
My head tips back against the seat. The window is a blur of white clouds and impossible blue sky. My breathing turns uneven. My thighs tremble around his hand.
He watches every bit of it.
That is the darker part now. Not the rough claiming of last night. This cool, concentrated attention. The certainty that he could push harder, take more, ruin me faster, and is choosing not to because watching me come apart slowly is doing something to him, too.
I can see it in his eyes.
“Luca.”
His thumb brushes my clit and I go still.
“Come for me, Princess.”
The words drop low and hard into my stomach.
My orgasm hits before I can brace for it. My back arches. The sound I make gets trapped behind my teeth. His free hand comes up just long enough to cover my mouth, not forceful, just enough to muffle me while the wave tears through me. Then he’s easing me through it, fingers still inside me, still moving, dragging out every last pulse until I’m shaking.
When he finally pulls his fingers free, I sit there stunned and breathless, my whole body humming.
His gaze never leaves mine as he sucks them clean, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world, like he knows exactly what that sight is doing to me.
It is such a small thing, really. Two fingers. The slow drag of his tongue. The slick pull of his mouth.
But when he tastes me, something in his expression shifts. The control is still there, but I catch a glimpse of what lives underneath it for one dangerous second, hot and hungry and barely contained. The heat that flashes through me is so sharp, it makes my skin feel too tight. My pulse is everywhere.
I stare at him, still trembling, while he settles back into that maddening composure. Like he isn’t the reason my nerves are still sparking. The imbalance of it gets under my skin. I want to see him wrecked. I want to be the reason.
Before I can think better of it, I unfasten my seat belt.
Luca watches me, a faint line appearing between his brows, but he doesn’t say anything. Not until I slide off the seat and onto the carpet between his knees.
Then his whole body goes still.
“Natalia.”
The space is tight, his legs framing me the second I settle there, one hand braced on the edge of his seat, the other on his thigh.
His hands come down to my shoulders, holding me there.
“Nat,” he says, voice rougher now. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” I tip my face up to his. “I want to.”
He swallows hard.
“But you have to teach me.”
The words hit him hard enough that I see it in the brief hitch of his breath. His hand slides into my hair, gathering it gently at the back of my head.
“Okay,” he says, the words sounding strangled.
He undoes his pants and frees himself, already hard, a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and my breath stalls.
Luca watches my face and strokes his thumb once behind my ear. “Relax. You don’t have to take all of me.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Right. Okay.”
