I don’t resist.
I let her drag me down, let her shift beneath me as I hover over her, bracing myself with one hand against the mattress, my other hand still on her cheek.
Her breathing is uneven, her eyes dark pools of something raw and aching. "Don’t yell at me," she whispers, voice trembling. "Not you."
Guilt claws at my chest, sharp and punishing. "I didn’t mean to?—"
She pulls me closer.
And then?—
The world shifts.
Her fingers tangle in my shirt, her lips parting, and I don’t hesitate. I don’t stop to think, don’t stop to question whether this is the right time, the right place. All I see is her, needing me, wanting me, showing me where she belongs.
And I’m about to make that clear.
15
SOFIA
Idon’t know who moves first.
Maybe it’s me, gripping his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. Maybe it’s Marco, pressing closer, his body heat swallowing me whole. Maybe it’s both of us, pulled together by something neither of us has the will—or the desire—to fight anymore.
His lips crash against mine, and I gasp into his mouth as his tongue slides in, claiming me, devouring me. There’s nothing hesitant about it—no patience, no careful exploration. Just hunger. Raw, unrelenting, all-consuming hunger.
A sound escapes me, part moan, part whimper, and Marco drinks it down like it belongs to him.
"You drive me fucking insane, you know that?" he growls against my lips, his hands already moving, gripping my waist, yanking me forward.
I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s pulling me up, flipping me onto my hands and knees on the bed like I weigh nothing.
I gasp, heart pounding, the new position making me feel exposed, vulnerable—but never unsafe. Never with him.
"Marco—"
He cuts me off with a dark chuckle, his fingers fisting in my hair, tugging my head back just enough to make me shiver.
"You like that?" His voice is all silk and sin, a low rasp that makes my entire body throb. "Like knowing I can manhandle you like this?"
I let out a shaky breath, my lips parting. "Yes."
His hand tightens slightly in my hair. "That’s my good girl."
I swear I almost come from those four words alone.
Then his lips are on my neck, dragging down, biting and soothing, leaving marks that feel like a brand. One of his hands slides lower, gripping my hips, kneading my ass as he presses his hard length against me through his slacks.
I groan, rocking back against him, desperate for more, for anything.
He laughs softly, dark and teasing. "Look at you. You’re desperate for me already."
"Shut up," I breathe, but the words come out broken, needy.
He tuts, his hand gliding up my back, tracing the zipper of my dress.
"Let’s get you out of this," he murmurs, his lips pressing against my spine as he slowly drags the zipper down.
