The war between what she wanted and what she thought she should want.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said, but her voice had lost its edge, now replaced by breathlessness and uncertainty.
My hand wrapped around her throat, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to remind her exactly who was in control.
“You want to fight me?” My lips brushed her ear, and I felt her shiver. “Go ahead. I’m finding that I like it when you fight me.”
“Lorenzo,” she said breathlessly.
I could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her dress. Could smell the perfume she’d put on. Not for me, but for him. And a feral anger roared to life in my chest, demanding I cover her in my scent, mark her as mine.
I pulled up the hem of her dress before she caught my hand.
“We can’t do that here,” she breathed, but it came out weak.
“Why not?”
She doesn’t answer, but her body does. Her thighs press together again, a subtle shift, and I catch the scent of her arousal—that sharp, sweet musk that drives me insane. My cock hardens instantly, pressing against the seam of my pants.
“No,” she whispered, but it’s a lie wrapped in silk.
“No?” I chuckled darkly, my breath hot against her neck. I slide my hand lower, over the neckline of her dress, feeling the heat of her skin. Her nipples are tight, visible through the thinfabric. “Your body saysyes. Your pussy saysplease. Doesn’t it, Tesoro?”
My fingers find the damp spot on her panties. She’s soaked. I press a finger against the wet fabric, circling her clit through the lace, and she jerks, letting a small moan escape her lips.
“Fuck, Zara.” I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear. “You’re so wet for me. You hate me, but youlovebeing owned, don’t you?”
“I hate you,” she confirms, but her hips rolled into my hand, seeking more pressure.
“I know.” I pull her panties aside and slide two fingers inside her, no warning, no gentleness. She cries out, head falling back, her slick heat clenches around me. She’s tight, hot,ready. “But you’re mine. Every time you pretend to resist, you’re just begging me to take you harder.”
I pump my fingers, watching her face contort—in a war between anger and pleasure.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I growl, curling my fingers inside her, hitting that spot that makes her knees buckle. “Tell me.”
She didn’t answer, so withdraw my fingers, and she whimpered at the loss as I spun her around, bending her over the counter. Her palms slapping against the marble, her ass arched perfectly. I yank her panties down to her thighs, exposing her—pink, glistening, ready.
“Soaking wet for the man you claim to hate. Tell me, Zara…did you plan this? Did you go on that date hoping I’d find out? Hoping I’d come for you?”
“Fuck you.”
I pulled my hand back and smacked her ass hard enough to make her yelp, red welts from my hand beginning to form.
“Try again.”
She turned her head, glaring at me over her shoulder, and I saw it. The defiance, the fire, the thing that had drawn me to her in that bar. Her eyes were bright, almost teary, but there was no fear. Only anger, and underneath it, a desperate, aching need.
And underneath that, the truth.
I didn’t need her to say it. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body arched back against me, hungry and desperate. Her hips pushed back, seeking friction.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I muttered against her ear.
I unzipped my pants; the sound was loud in the quiet bathroom, and I felt her shiver. Felt her breath catch. Felt the way she braced herself against the counter, spreading her legs just slightly, inviting me in. The air between us was electric, charged with days of tension and denial, and this twisted, obsessive love I couldn’t name.
I stroke my cock, already aching, and line it up. “This cunt was made for me. Only me.”
I thrust in, all the way, in one brutal motion. She screams—a raw, guttural sound—and I feel her walls stretch around me, struggling to accommodate, then yielding. I grip her hips, fucking her with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving her harder into the counter. The impact echoed in the small room, mixing with her moans and my grunts.
