Silence. The drawer slides shut.
“I’ve never done this without one.” Rough. A confession.
That settles between us. Neither of us moves.
I’m the first. “Neither have I.”
“I want to feel you.”
He settles over me. His hips between mine. The slide of his cock against me, slick and hard, nothing between us. Skin on skin.
He pushes into me. The noise I make is not recognizable as mine. The stretch. The warmth. Everything. I can feel everything. Every ridge. Every pulse.
He holds. Every muscle locked.
“Stay.” Barely there. “Don’t move.”
“If I move you’ll?—”
“I know. Stay.”
He stays. The stillness is torturing him. The effort lives in the ragged sounds above me.
Then he moves. Deep. Full. I pull him deeper with my thighs. Closer than the desk. Closer than before. More. I’m answering with sounds, not words, because words are gone.
He slows. Holds me at the peak. Strung so tight I might snap.
“Lorenzo. I swear to God.”
He reaches for the blindfold. Pushes it up to my forehead. The lamplight hits my eyes and I blink.
His face. Right there. Dark eyes. Fierce. Close enough to kiss. Everything he uses to keep distance, gone. Just him.
“There you are.” His voice breaks on the second word.
And the look on his face. Not the flat assessment. Not the enforcer. The man underneath all of it, looking at me like I’m the first real thing he’s seen in a decade.
He moves. Forehead against mine.
“Look at me.”
“I am.”
“No. Look at me.”
His eyes lock on mine. No hiding. No distance.
“Isabella.”
I come. A wave instead of a crash. Every nerve firing, my pussy pulsing around him, wet and tight. His forehead hard against mine. Eyes open. Both of us.
I watch his face change. The jaw going tight. The breath stopping. His eyes still on mine, refusing to close even now.
He breaks. A groan he doesn’t try to hide. Going rigid. Fists gripping the pillow on either side of my head.
Quiet. The warmth of him on me. The blindfold pushed up to my hairline. The lamp casting gold across the bed.
He shifts. Rolls to the side. Gets up. Water. Cloth. The routine I’m learning. The tending he doesn’t think counts but does.
