The words set my fucking blood on fire. They call to the most possessive and primal part of me. “You’re mine, Alina,” I growl,positioning myself over her, bracing my weight on my forearms. “No one else will ever touch you like this. No one.”
She nods, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders. “Show me,” she whispers. “Show me what it’s like to be fuc… to have sex with Raffaele Russo.”
I smirk at how close she came to saying ‘fuck’. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear, and it’s never bothered me. Yet, right now, it feels like a dare to myself to make her lose herself so completely she doesn’t correct her words.
I capture her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns hungry, devouring. My tongue claims hers as my hand slides down her body, over the soft curve of her stomach, finding the heat between her thighs.
She gasps against my lips as my fingers trace her entrance, finding her already slick with desire.
“So wet for me,” I murmur, circling her opening without penetrating. “Such a good girl.”
Her hips buck against my hand, seeking more contact. I pull back from our kiss to watch her face as I finally, finally slide one finger inside her. The tight heat of her makes my dick throb in anticipation. She’s impossibly tight, her body tensing at the intrusion.
“Relax,” I command softly, keeping my finger still within her. “Breathe, Piccola.”
She obeys, drawing a shaky breath. As her body relaxes, I begin to move my finger, slowly pumping in and out of her virgin channel. Her eyes flutter closed, her head falling back.
“No,” I growl. “Eyes on me. I want to see you.”
Her lids snap open, blue eyes locking with mine as I work a second finger into her tight heat. She winces slightly at the stretch, but I distract her by circling my thumb over her clit. The dual sensation draws a moan from her throat, her hips rocking against my hand.
“That’s it,” I encourage, scissoring my fingers inside her, preparing her for what’s to come. “Take my fingers, Mogliettina. Show me how good you can be.”
Her walls clench around my digits as I curl them forward, finding the spot that makes her cry out. I press against it relentlessly while my thumb works her clit in tight circles. Her breathing grows ragged, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Raffaele,” she gasps, her body trembling. “Oh, God! I’m… I can’t… God!”
“Let go,” I command. “Come for me, Alina. Now.”
As if my words are the key that unlocks her pleasure, she shatters beneath me, her back arching off the rug, her inner walls pulsing around my fingers. I watch, entranced, as ecstasy transforms her face—lips parted, eyes wide but unseeing, cheeks flushed with color.
Before she can recover fully, I lower my mouth to her breast, capturing one rosy nipple between my lips. My fingers continue their steady rhythm inside her, drawing out her orgasm until she’s whimpering beneath me.
Only when her tremors subside do I change tactics, pumping my fingers faster, harder, my palm grinding against her sensitive clit.
“Again,” I demand against her breast. “Once more for me.”
Her protest dies on her lips as pleasure builds anew, her hips bucking wildly against my hand. This time when she comes, she screams my name, the sound echoing off the library walls like music.
I withdraw my fingers from her heat, admiring how they glisten in the firelight. “Open,” I command, pressing them against her lips. When she hesitantly parts them, I slide my fingers into her mouth. “Taste yourself on me.”
Her eyes widen, but she obeys, her tongue tentatively licking my fingers clean. The sight is almost enough to break my control completely.
Shifting down her body, I settle between her thighs, pushing them wider with my shoulders. “Now I’m going to taste you,” I inform her, my breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. “And you’re going to keep your eyes on me while I do.”
She props herself up on her elbows, her gaze locked with mine as I lower my mouth to her core. The first broad stroke of my tongue makes her gasp, her thighs tensing around my head. I grasp her hips firmly, holding her in place as I devour her like a starved man.
My tongue circles her entrance, dips inside, then returns to flick against her clit. “Oh!” she cries out, her head falling back despite my instructions.
I pull away immediately. “Eyes. On. Me,” I repeat, each word a command.
She obeys, her gaze finding mine again, pupils blown wide with desire. Only then do I return to my task, alternating between gentle suction on her clit and firm strokes of my tongue.
When I add my fingers back into the equation, pushing two deep inside her while my mouth works her sensitive bud, she begins to tremble again.
On impulse, I reach out with my free hand, grabbing the white queen from the scattered chess pieces beside us. Pulling back slightly, I replace my mouth with the smooth head of the piece, rubbing it against her swollen nub in tight circles.
Her eyes widen in shock, but the moan that escapes her tells me everything I need to know. “The queen,” I murmur, continuing the motion, “the most powerful piece on the board. Just like you. So much power in this sweet cunt of yours.”
