Suddenly, the temperature in the room changes. I feel it in the way voices pitch slightly higher, in the way laughter lingers a beat too long. Tension, low and thick, crawling along the edges.
It doesn’t take long. One of Greco’s old guards says something loud. Something careless. And one of Martelli’s men hears it.
There’s a shove. Then another. A shrill curse. Drinks spill. A chair scrapes sharply across the marble floor.
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. I move through the gap like water, Tomasso at my back, two of my men closing in from the sides. I step between them, my presence alone enough to snap heads around.
“Enough.”
The word lands hard. Weighted. The men freeze. They know my voice. They know what happens when it reaches that edge.
Martelli himself steps forward, hands raised, pretending diplomacy. “Giovanni, forgive the disruption. My associate is young. He meant no disrespect."
“Then he’ll apologize. Now.”
The man grits his teeth but mutters something close enough. I stare at him a moment longer, then turn back.
Liliana hasn’t moved from where I left her. Her spine is straight, her expression calm, her dress shimmering like it belongs on a throne. When our eyes meet again, something inside me settles.
The rest of the night continues in fragments. A blur of shifting voices, half-smiles, empty gestures. The weight of eyes always hovering just behind my shoulder. But nothing else breaks.
By the time the last guest leaves, I feel the pull of her like a current, a quiet force drawing me to her. I guide her upstairs in silence, my hand resting on the small of her back, warm through the fabric of her dress. My other hand holds the door open as she steps through, her movements slow, deliberate, a grace that’s entirely her own, unstudied and magnetic.
Her heels fall to the floor with soft thuds, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She turns away from me, unfastening her earrings with care, then reaches behind her to unzip her dress. I cross the room before she can finish, my hands replacing hers, dragging the zipper down with a slow, deliberate pull until the silk parts fall.
She doesn’t look over her shoulder. She steps out of the dress, leaving it in a puddle at her feet, and walks to the bed in a slip so thin it clings to her curves, translucent in the low light. She turns, her eyes sharp, her lips slightly parted, a silent invitationthat sets my blood on fire. Her hands lift, signing with steady certainty. I want you.
The words intensify the want raging in me, and I close the space in two strides. My mouth finds hers. The kiss is fierce but tender, a collision of need and devotion. She meets me with equal hunger, her lips soft and yielding, her tongue curling against mine in a dance that feels like a vow.
Her fingers tug at my shirt, urgent, and I help her, ripping it over my head, the fabric catching briefly before falling away. My belt follows, the leather sliding free with a soft clink, and she pulls me closer, her nails biting into my back, a sweet sting that makes my cock twitch.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist, her mouth never leaving mine. The kiss is fire, breathless need, but there’s a softness beneath it, a trust that makes my chest ache.
She arches into me, her hips grinding against my hardening length, and my vision blurs, desire pooling low in my gut. We fall onto the bed together, tangled and urgent, her body warm and pliant beneath me.
There’s no hesitation, only the raw pull of wanting her, of needing to be closer, deeper, until nothing separates us.
I slide her slip up and over her head, tossing it aside, revealing her bare skin, flushed and glowing in the dim light. Her breasts are full, nipples tight and begging for my touch, and I lean down, kissing the soft curve of her collarbone, trailing my lips to onepeak. I suck gently, my tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
Her thighs part wider, inviting me, and I shift, my hands sliding down her sides, tracing the curve of her hips as I settle between her legs. Her pussy is already wet, glistening, and the sight of her, open and ready, sends a jolt of heat through me, my cock throbbing against my trousers.
I shed the rest of my clothes quickly, my cock springing free, thick and heavy with need. Her eyes darken, drinking me in, and I can’t wait any longer.
I position myself at her entrance, my hands framing her hips, and I thrust into her, slow and deep, filling her in one smooth stroke. She moans, a soft, throaty sound that vibrates through me, her walls clenching around me, warm and impossibly tight.
The sensation is overwhelming, her pussy gripping me like it was made for me, and I groan, my lips finding hers again, kissing her with a tenderness that belies the fire in my blood.
I move, each thrust deliberate, dragging against her walls, savoring the way she pulses around me. Her breasts sway with each motion, and I cup one, my thumb brushing her nipple, making her arch beneath me, her moan low and sweet.
Her hands clutch my shoulders, nails digging in, and I lean down, kissing her throat, tasting the rapid pulse beneath her skin. I thrust deeper, my pace steady but firm, each stroke apromise, a claim, but soft enough to show her I’m here, with her, in every way that matters.
Her thighs tighten around my hips, pulling me closer, and I feel her warmth, her wetness, coating me, making every movement slick and perfect.
My hand slides between us, my fingers finding her clit, swollen and slick, and I rub in slow, gentle circles, watching her face as her eyes flutter shut, her lips parting in a silent cry.
She’s so responsive, her pussy clenching tighter around me, and I groan, my breath hot against her neck. I thrust harder, still tender, each movement hitting that spot inside her that makes her gasp, her body trembling beneath me.
Her hands slide down my back, nails scraping softly, leaving trails of warmth, and I kiss her again, my lips lingering on hers, tasting her sweetness, her trust.
