Page 121 of The Toy Collector

Her fingers work frantically at my belt, desperate to free me. “Enzo, please.”

The sound of my name on her lips nearly shatters my resolve. I capture her wrists in one hand, pinning them to her lap while my fingers continue their methodical torture between her thighs.

“I said not yet,” I murmur, biting the soft skin below her ear.

She whimpers, legs falling further open. Her slick heat drenches my fingers, almost enough to snap every thread of control I have left. One stroke and she’s trembling. Two and she’s whimpering against my throat. Three and she’s broken—moaning, begging.

“You’re soaked,” I whisper, pushing one finger inside her, then another. “Dripping for me.”

Her hips buck wildly. “Then fuck me. Now.”

I unclick our seatbelts with my free hand, pulling her onto my lap so she straddles me. Her dress bunches around her waist. I reach for my zipper, freeing myself while her eyes widen, hungry and wanting.

“I’m not going to fuck you in the car,” I rasp, guiding her hips with one hand.

She makes a small sound of protest until she feels the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. When I ease her down, just enough for her to feel me stretching her, her lips part on a silent gasp.

“But I need to be inside you,” I confess, the words torn from some primal part of me.

She tries to take more of me, but I hold her still, allowing only this shallow penetration. She squeezes around me, muscles fluttering in frustration, and I groan at the sensation.

“Please,” she pants. “More.”

“At home.” I guide her hips in a barely there rock, not thrusting, just connected. “Where I can have all of you.”

We remain locked together this way for the rest of the drive—her trembling on my lap, me buried just inside her, both of us suspended in exquisite torture. By the time we reach the apartment, we’re both panting, clothes damp with sweat, eyes glazed with need.

The second the door clicks shut behind us, I slam her against the wall. My mouth crashes onto hers, hot and punishing. I’ve been starved for fucking hours—years—a lifetime. Her back arches, pressing her breasts against my chest as my tongue invades her mouth.

I fist her hair tight enough to sting, yanking her head back so I can bite down the length of her throat. She moans, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. Her hands claw at my clothes, buttons flying as she tears at my shirt. I don’t care. Nothing matters but getting to her skin, getting inside her, making her feel the weight of what she’s done by accepting me.

“Do you know what you do to me?” I growl, tearing her dress down the middle. The sound of ripping fabric fills the air between our ragged breaths. “Do you have any fucking idea what it does to me when you look at me like that?”

She stands before me in nothing but the torn dress and the gold puzzle piece at her throat. Her hair falls wild around her shoulders, lips swollen from my kisses.

“Show me,” she challenges, green eyes burning into mine.

I rip away what’s left of her clothes, lifting her against the wall. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my back. I slide two fingers into her, finding her impossibly wet, impossibly tight.

“This cunt,” I murmur, curling my fingers just right, watching her head fall back. “So fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”

She grinds down on my fingers, chasing the edge like she needs it to breathe. I work her relentlessly, thumb circling her clit while my fingers press deep inside. I could watch her like this forever—suspended between pleasure and pain, surrender and defiance.

“You know who I am now,” I tell her, increasing the pressure. “You know what I’ve done. What I’ll do for you.”

“Yes,” she gasps, eyes half-closed, lost in sensation.

“Say my name,” I command, feeling her start to tighten around my fingers.

“Enzo,” she moans, hands scrambling for purchase on my shoulders.

“My full name,” I growl, pressing harder, deeper.

“Lorenzo,” she pants. “Lorenzo Russo.”

Her walls flutter, clenching hard around my fingers, and I know she’s close. I twist my hand just right, circling her clit until she comes undone in my grip, moaning my name like it’s salvation. Her legs shake around me, and I don’t let up until she’s trembling with aftershocks, sweat glistening at her throat.

The sound of her rapture while chanting my full name pushes me over the edge of control. I withdraw my fingers, replacing them with the thick head of my dick. She’s so ready, so wet that I slide in with one deep thrust that makes her cry out.

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