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The Viper is a bully. He's a man who thinks he can control others, and does it with a sneer, with a threat, and he gets off on it. He doesn't really have any power. But Luca does, and the knowledge of that is thrilling.
I want him to use that power on me.
"Hands," he snaps, and my breath catches in the back of my throat, as he pulls my hands together, wrapping a thin, black rope around them. He pulls tight, and it bites into my skin, making my breath catch in the back of my throat.
"Too much?" he asks, and there's a note of concern in his tone, which feels... not real. Out of place, but it surrounds me in a gentle warmth that in this moment is exactly what I need. His fingers stroke the side of my face, gently. "Little spy," he says, his tone a purr, and I swallow.
"No," I whisper, and he smiles, a cruel expression, and tugs on the ropes. It burns, but not painfully, and a whimper leaves me. He ties them to one of the legs of the bed, the hard wooden floor under it and me making my knees ache.
Luca circles me, and a shudder runs through me, every inch of me aware of the fact that he's standing behind me, watching me, examining me, waiting. For what?
The answer is immediate, as he wraps a hand in my hair, pulling it out of the neat, careful updo I'd worked on for what felt like ages.
"You're going to be my pretty little pet, aren't you?" he says, and my throat goes dry, the tug of pain as he yanks my head back, arching my back, sending a shock through me.
"Yes," I say, the word slipping from my lips without a thought.
"Do you think you're worthy of the title?" he asks, and a gasp leaves me, as he slides his hand down, his palm pressing against the flat plane of my belly, and then lower, cupping my pussy. My eyes fly open, and he's staring at me, his green eyes dark and glittering.
"Please," I gasp, and a smirk flickers across his face. "Please, please," I whisper, and the first thrust of his fingers inside of me make my hips jerk. My hands strain against the ropes, and the ache in my knees is forgotten. There's only the hot, slick glide of his fingers, and his gaze, fixed on my face.
"So desperate," he murmurs, and his thumb presses against my clit. "So wet. Does being a filthy little spy turn you on, or is it just me? Do you get wet when you're thinking about other men, Ashley? Do you let them touch you, when I'm not around?"
"N-no," I say, and he kneels beside me, his face next to mine, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear, his lips closing around my earlobe. I tighten on his fingers, trying to get more from him, my body betraying me. I've never been touched like this, handled roughly, anything, and it's got me on the edge, my toes digging into the wood floorboards.
"Don't lie," he breathes, and he twists his wrist, the thrusts of his fingers becoming deeper, more insistent, his thumb on my clit.
"Only you," I moan, "only you."
"Who am I?"
"Luca Greco," I cry, and he bites down on my shoulder, his fingers crooking inside of me. A wave of pleasure rushes through me, and my thighs shake, my mouth falling open as I pant.
"And who are you?" he asks, his voice a growl. His fingers twist inside me, driving me to arch. He's still got his hand in my hair, holding me still. I can barely move.
"Ashley Morrow, Ash, Miss Morrow, oh god, please, I can't, please, I need to—" My words break off as a ragged cry leaves my lips. "Please, please," I beg, and the words leave me again, his fingers pulling back, and then driving in again, a brutal, quick pace that has me writhing and twisting. "Please, oh god, please, Luca, please, fuck, fuck, oh fuck?—"
He is relentless, and I can feel a hot blush spreading up my neck and over my cheeks, as he fingers me, his hand holding me still, not letting me get away from the intensity of his touch.
"You can come," he whispers, his fingers pushing deeper inside me, a third one pressing against my folds, slick with my own wetness. "Come for me, little spy, come on my fingers, like a good little slut, you're going to be so good for me, aren't you? So, so good," he whispers, and his thumb brushes over my clit, his mouth on my ear, and I gasp, and a cry escapes me.
"Good girl," he murmurs, "my good girl, aren't you? You can come now," he says, and I don't want to disappoint him, even though a small part of me whispers that this is all wrong.
It's wrong, and it's perfect.
And I want to come for him, I need to.
"Luca," I whisper, and his fingers curl inside of me, and his thumb strokes over my clit, and another orgasm rushes through me, stronger and harder than the first.
"Such a sweet little thing," he says, and my head is spinning, the words leaving my lips as the room tilts around me.
"I'm gonna pass out," I whisper, and he lets go of me, the hand in my hair falling away, his fingers slipping out of me. I sink forward, the ropes going tight, and my cheek hits the floor.
I'm not even embarrassed.
A low, dark laugh fills the air, and the ropes go slack, and I'm being pulled into strong, solid arms, the world around me shifting.
"Let's put you in bed," he says, his voice warm, and soothing. I can't focus on anything, not with the aftershocks still shaking through me, not with the way the whole room is spinning.
