Page 82 of The Assassin's Captive
“Yes,” she breathes, the word barely a sound.
I fist my hand tighter in her hair, leaning down until our faces are level. “You don’t touch me until I say. You don’t move until I say. Understood?”
“Yes, Lorenzo.”
Only then do I step back, stripping the rest of the way down with unhurried movements, letting her hunger build while I peel away every layer for her.
When I’m bare, I take my time looking at her—kneeling for me, hair mussed from my grip, lips parted on shallow breaths. My cock is heavy and aching, but I don’t rush. I hook two fingers under her chin, forcing her eyes up to mine.
“You’ve been smart tonight,” I say, my voice low and rough. “But now I want you to show me just how well you can listen.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, but she doesn’t speak, waiting for my command. I take her face in one hand, thumb stroking across her cheekbone, a mockery of tenderness. “Mouth open.”
She obeys instantly, lips parting. I drag my thumb across them and push inside, making her suck it deep before pulling free. “Good girl.”
I step closer, the tip of my cock brushing her mouth. Her breath hitches, and I can feel the heat of it against me. My fingers tighten in her hair, holding her steady. “You’re going to take me in your mouth,” I tell her, my tone pure dominance. “Every inch I give you. No stopping unless I tell you.”
Her wide, hungry eyes lift to mine as she whispers, “Yes, Lorenzo.”
And I press forward, claiming what’s already mine.
I guide her with both hands in her hair, feeding her my length slowly, forcing her to adjust around me. She moans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against my cock and making my grip tighten. “That’s it,” I growl, pushing deeper, controlling the pace, never letting her forget who’s in charge.
Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as I hold her there, my hips rolling, testing her limits. When I ease back, a thin line of spit connects us, sliding down her chin. The sight makes my breath roughen, hunger twisting hotter.
“Hands behind your back,” I order. She obeys instantly, kneeling straighter, offering herself to me without question. The obedience sets my blood on fire.
I fist her hair again, guiding her down harder this time, fucking her mouth the way I’ve imagined a hundred times. Her muffled whimpers go straight to my cock, making it throb against the tight seal of her lips. I only stop when I feel her gag, pulling back just enough to let her breathe.
I cup her face in one big hand, thumb smearing spit along her cheek. “Look at you,” I rasp, voice ragged with lust. “On your knees, wet for me, ready to take whatever I give you.”
She nods, breathless, lips swollen, eyes glassy with heat. And I know I’m done holding back.
I haul her up off the floor in one rough pull, crushing my mouth to hers as I walk her backward toward the couch. She clings to my shoulders, still breathless from what I did to her on her knees. My hands grip her thighs, spreading them wide as I lift and toss her down onto the cushions, my body following before she can even gasp.
“Hands on the couch,” I order, my voice guttural. She scrambles to obey, bracing herself as I drag her hips to the edge and slam into her with a hard thrust that rips a cry from her throat. The feel of her clenching around me makes my visionblur for a second, but I hold steady, driving into her with deep, brutal strokes that leave no space between us.
Every thrust is a claim, every sound she makes a mark on my skin. I wrap a hand around her throat, tilting her head so I can watch her fall apart under me. “You like that?” I rasp, my hips pounding into hers, the couch rocking with each push. “No one else gets this. No one else ever will.”
“Lorenzo—” Her moan breaks on my name, her nails clawing into the upholstery as her body trembles. I reach down between us, circling her clit hard and fast, forcing her to the edge while I drive into her relentless and rough.
She comes undone with a sharp cry, her walls squeezing me so tight I lose every scrap of control. My hips snap harder, chasing my own release until it crashes over me in a guttural groan, spilling inside her with everything I have, holding her pinned under my weight while I ride out the last shuddering thrusts.
When it’s done, I stay buried in her, one hand on her throat, the other gripping her hip, breathing hard against her ear. “Mine,” I whisper again, low and raw.
She turns her head just enough to meet my gaze, her voice wrecked but certain. “Yours. Always.”
33
EPILOGUE
SERENA
The cathedral doors tower above me, their ancient wood carved with saints and sinners alike. How fitting. Sunlight filters through stained glass windows, throwing jeweled patterns across marble floors that have witnessed centuries of sacred vows and broken promises. Today, they will witness mine.
My fingers tighten around the bouquet of white roses—Lorenzo's choice, though he claimed it was tradition. I know better. He remembers the opera house, remembers "The Rose of Rome" who sang the night everything changed between us. The night he was supposed to kill me.
"Ready?" Victor's voice carries the warmth I've grown to expect from Lorenzo's cousin. He adjusts his charcoal suit jacket and offers me his arm. The man who once terrified me now stands as the closest thing to family I have on this side of the aisle.
