His hands fly to my hair, fingers tightening, hips tensing like he wants to thrust deep, but he forces himself still.
Barely.
His breath is ragged, his muscles flexing as I work him slow, deep, relentless.
"Fuck,dolcezza," he groans, his grip tightening as I hum around him, the vibration making him twitch against my tongue.
I pull back, dragging my lips achingly slow, letting him feel every second of it.
Then I blow softly against the slick tip, letting the last remnants of cooling mint sear into him.
His entire body tenses, a violent shudder wracking through him.
"You—" His voice breaks. He yanks me up, flipping me onto my back, his body caging mine in an instant.
And then he’s looking down at me, his pupils blown wide, his breath still ragged as his lips brush mine in a dark, dangerous promise.
"Now you’re really going to get it."
His body is a wall of heat and muscle, pressing me down, his breath still ragged from what I just did to him. His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me open, and the way he looks at me—like he’s about to ruin me—makes my pulse skitter, makes my whole body tighten with anticipation.
"You just don’t know when to stop, do you?" His voice is a rasp, dark and edged with something dangerously unhinged.
I smirk, trying to catch my breath, but it’s useless—his hand is already at my throat, his fingers firm but careful, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his wild, blown-wide gaze.
"Be careful what you ask for,dolcezza," he murmurs. "Because now? I’m going to break you."
And then he does.
His mouth crashes against mine, bruising, consuming, devouring. I barely have time to breathe before his hands tear at the last remaining barriers between us. Fabric rips. Skin ignites.
He doesn’t rush.
Not at first.
He drags it out— his hands exploring, his lips teasing, his tongue tracing every inch of me with agonizing precision. He makes sure I feeleverything—the way his fingers sink into my flesh, the way his body presses, claims, possesses.
His teeth graze my pulse point, and I whimper, hips arching up, desperate for more.
"You’re already shaking," he murmurs against my skin, his fingers trailing lower, teasing me with just enough pressure to make me squirm. "You’re so damn easy for me."
I bite back a plea, but he sees through me.
He always does.
And that’s when his patience snaps.
In one brutal thrust, he fills me.
I cry out, my back bowing, my nails digging into his shoulders as he stretches me, takes me, claims me.
There’s no hesitation. No holding back.
He fucks me like he owns me—like he’s staking his claim, like he needs this just as much as I do.
His pace is punishing, relentless, his hips snapping against mine, grinding deep, forcing me to take every inch of him.
"You feel this,bella?" His voice is rough, wrecked, his fingers gripping my hips in a bruisingly tight grip. "You feel how deep I am? How fucking perfect you are around me?"
