Agonizing restraint locks my throat until I cannot breathe.
I pull my fingers away from her entrance. I shift my hand higher. I press my thumb directly against her swollen clit.
Priya whines, a high, desperate sound of frustration.
I lean forward. I catch her lips with mine. I swallow the sound. I swallow her frustration.
I bear down. I begin to circle. Fast. Brutal. Unforgiving.
Her hips buck off the table. She grinds her wet center violently against the pad of my thumb. The slick heat coats my skin. The friction is a rapid, frantic burn.
I increase the pressure. I lock my arm. My thumb works her most sensitive nerve.
Priya breaks the kiss. She gasps for air. Her nails dig into the vinyl of the therapy table, tearing the material.
I bite the sensitive skin under her ear. I whisper the dark truth against her neck.
"Cum for me. Mine. Just for me."
The command snaps the final thread of her control.
Her body bows off the table like a drawn bowstring. Her thighs clamp down around my ribs with crushing force. A high, broken scream rips from her throat.
The climax hits her like a physical detonation.
Her whole body clenches violently. The wetness floods over my hand. Her hips jerk against my thumb in rapid, uncontrollable spasms. She shakes apart in my arms.
I hold her down. I keep the pressure steady until the very last tremor fades from her legs. I absorb each violent shudder. I watch her face. I watch the devastation of pleasure wipe away her professional armor.
She collapses backward onto the table. Her eyes are closed. She is panting, wrecked.
I am standing over her. My hand is still coated in her wetness. My pants are painfully tight, the ache in my groin practically blinding. The physical torture of not taking her is a white-hot knife in my gut.
I slowly pull my hand away.
I brace my fists on the table on either side of her hips. I drop my head, struggling to force air into my lungs. The beast inside me is thrashing, screaming for penetration, screaming for blood.
Then, the sudden, sharp vibration of my encrypted phone breaks the quiet.
The tactical ping echoes loudly in the small room.
The soldier snaps back to the surface. The enforcer returns.
I pull the phone from my pocket. I stare at the screen. The text is from my brother, Vincenzo. The words are short, brutal, and terrifying.
Target moved. Armory feed offline. Bellanti strike force inbound.
I close my eyes. The war is here.
I look down at the beautiful, wrecked woman lying on the table wearing my bloodstained shirt. She’s unaware that the world outside this room is about to explode into violence. She is mine. I will burn the entire city to ash to keep her safe.
I turn toward the door.
"We need to move. Now."
5
PRIYA
