Page 31

He smiles, enjoying the slight tremor in my voice. He takes a cloth, adds some shower gel. It’s his, and it smells of wood and spice and Luca. That scent alone would be enough to kick-start my libido. He uses the cloth to wipe me clean of the remaining grime from the night, his touch gentle but effective, the smell divine, every stroke lush. Once he’s done, he casts it aside and looks at me. A trembling woman, frozen against the tiles. Perfectly clean and perfectly aroused.

He shakes his head, raises an eyebrow. “More, I think,” he says, grabbing the shampoo. “Close your eyes, Rosa,” he commands. “And keep them closed. Until I tell you otherwise.”

I do as I am told, because why wouldn’t I? Not being able to see what is coming next makes my heart race, and a little shudder runs through me.

“You like that, I can tell,” he says, his voice a gravelly growl. “Next time, I’ll blindfold you. Maybe bind your hands behind your back. How does that sound?”

“That sounds … nice,” I murmur, my palms flat against the surface of the tiles. Nice and then some. Fuck, it sounds like the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

He lathers up my hair and then rinses it, but all the way through he finds little ways to make it more than a functional act—quick and unexpected kisses, a lingering of his fingers around my throat, an unexpected scrape of his fangs on my neck. I cannot see him, have no idea what he’s going to do to me, and it’s having an interesting effect on things. There’s a deep rhythmic pulsing between my legs that I know he picks up on, because he mutters something dark and low in Italian under his breath.

Once he’s done with my hair, he works his way down my body. His hands are gentle when they want to be, trailing soft touches across skin that is begging for more. He reaches my breasts, and I can’t help but stick my chest out towards him, desperate to feel his touch.

“Do not move, piccola,” he instructs me. “Not if you want me to continue …”

I do. God, I do … this man undoes me, unravels me. Unmoors me. It is terrifying and delicious and perfect all at once. I have never trusted anyone the way I trust him or wanted someone this intensely.

He soaps up my breasts, lingering on my nipples, rolling them between his thumb and his fingers. Turning them into hard peaks, tingling with feeling, sending direct signals to my pulsing pussy. He takes one into his mouth and I gasp, wanting so much to bury my hands in his hair, to hold him closer, to keep him there. He moves to the other all the while caressing my wet skin, stroking and teasing and setting me on fire with desire.

He moves away, and the water pressure changes. Before I can even feel the loss, he’s lower, his breath against my belly. “Spread your legs for me, Rosa. Let me see you.”

I take a shaky sideways step, keeping my eyes closed. His hands are on my inner thighs, trailing higher, spreading open my folds. I gasp as the water jet is directed right at me, hitting my clit in a way that’s both unexpected and also incredibly effective. It’s like a massage, and I immediately start to quake as the sensation drives my arousal even higher. He tortures me a while, and I risk a quick glance down. Fuck. He’s there, kneeling before me in all his powerful glory, a small smile on his lips as he plays with me. A man who is happy with his work.

He drops the showerhead and replaces it with his touch. I sigh as he trails his fingers upwards, skimming my swollen bud, making me quiver. “So wet for me, inside and out,” he murmurs as he slides one finger into my very ready pussy. “Always so needy …”

He works me with his fingers, then his tongue. He runs it skillfully over me, slow and steady and soft, the waves of pleasure starting to build inside me. “Please …” I mutter. He knows exactly how to make me come and exactly how to stop me from coming. It’s like he’s made mastering my body his life’s work.

“When are you thinking of leaving, Rosa?” he asks, his voice a low rumble against me.

Never, I think, never … how could I leave this? This man, these lips, that tongue? Why would I ever want to? I don’t want to. But I need to. If he’s hoping to change my mind by making me orgasm-blind, it won’t work. At least I don’t think it will.

“Today,” I manage to mutter, the words dragging out of me. “Sometime today …”

He nods and speeds up. He licks me over and over, sucks my clit into his mouth and lashes it gently with his tongue. He builds the intensity until I explode, holding my bucking hips in place with his hands as I come. It’s spectacular, ripping through me like a tidal wave, and he grabs my ass and holds my pussy over his face as I shake and shudder through yet another mind-melting climax.

When I’m done, when I’m leaning wet and limp and spent, he stands. His breath touches my skin, and I can smell myself on him. He whispers, “You can open your eyes now, Rosa. And if you’re leaving today, then I’m going to make the most of you now. I’m going to take you. All of you.”

My eyes fly open, and he is there: feral, wild, monstrous. Eyes ringed with red and silver, fangs out, a solid wall of muscle pinning me down. “All of me?” I ask, breathless. I’m still vibrating, but I know he is more than capable of making me come over and over again. He nods, nuzzling my neck, his tongue flickering against my earlobe.

“All of you. You are mine. You know that, don’t you? Every part of you belongs to me …”

I let myself fall against him, and his arms go around me, holding me upright. His words, his touch, his intent—it all leaves me weak.

“I am. I am yours, Luca, and you are mine. Always.”

He growls, picks me up. I spot tiny piles of ash whirling down the drain. Huh. I suppose shower sex is a short-term solution at least. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he pins me against the tiles. All we do, for the longest time, is kiss. It sounds so simple—a kiss. But oh my, it is sublime. The perfect union of lips, tongue, need. Crushed up against him, my nipples pressed into his chest, my hands holding on to his neck as he kisses me almost to the point of coming.

He hoists me up, his immense strength making it easy, and very, very slowly slides me back down, impaling me with his cock. I let out a cry as he fills me, never tiring of it. Never getting used to it. Always loving the way he stretches me, fulfills me, his body and mine fitting together like puzzle parts. Completing each other. He wraps one fist in my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat. With a snarl, he trails his tongue over the sensitive skin at the side of my neck, then plunges his fangs into me in exactly the same rhythm he plunges his cock into me. My scream echoes around the shower room, and the familiar blend of pain and pleasure throbs through me. Sucking, pounding, my whole body awake, every cell bright and alive, every part of me filled with him …

He growls as I come, my pussy walls clenching tight around him, a whole-body orgasm that actually makes me black out for a split second. I cling to him, riding the sensation, chasing down every last moment of pure, perfect pleasure. I’m still dizzy as he pulls his mouth away from my neck, seals the wound, and lowers me to my knees. I gaze up at him, eyes cloudy with lust, steam from the abandoned showerhead rising around him. He looks even more spectacular than normal, hulking over me, his cock still huge and hard. I can’t begin to imagine the control it must have taken not to find his own release when I came so hard all over him.

“Mouth,” he says simply, nostrils flaring. “Now.”

I gulp and open wide. He toys with me a while, running the head over my lips, letting me lick away the salty pearls of glistening pre-cum. I love the taste of him, the feel of him. The smell of him. I cup his balls, and he groans as his need overtakes him. His hands flat on the tiles, he fills my mouth, thrusting into me. My hands take hold of his magnificent ass, and I pull him in even deeper. This is my chance to take back some power, to play our little game, to push him to his limits.

“No, bella, not yet …” he murmurs, but I ignore him. I relax my throat muscles, breathe through my nose. Deep throat him to within an inch of his life. I can feel the tension building inside his shaft, the swelling of the thick veins that line it, the desperate noises he’s making. I’m convinced he’s about to peak when he suddenly pulls away from me, leaving me unsteady on my knees, blinking up at him in confusion. He growls, his face a mix of angel and devil. “I told you no,” he says, and a delicious thrill of fear runs through me. My amulet flares, just once, red hot against my skin—danger, danger. He’s angry and aroused in every possible way, and for just that split second, he could have genuinely hurt me. Why does that make my clit start to throb? I have no clue, but it does.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “Let me try again.”