Page 21 of Modern Romance November 2026 Books 5-8

I rode his fingers, his mouth, my hands fisting on the silky waves of dark hair, urging him on. The sensations became so intense I felt trapped between brutal pleasure, exquisite pain. Too much and yet not enough.

‘Per favore, Dante… Please…’ I begged in a broken combination of English and Italian, my pride and self-respect no match for my desperation to reach that glorious peak again.

Just as I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, he captured the aching bud between his lips and suckled hard. Bright beautiful oblivion rose like a firestorm to blast through every nerve-ending. I screamed, the pleasure too much. The sensations shocking in their intensity.

As the final throes of my climax ebbed, he rose over me. I lay shattered, shivering, as he reached across me to fumble in the bedside table. I watched, dazed, disorientated, still floating in the afterglow, brutally aware of the emptiness in my sex.

He tore the foil open then dragged down his boxers. I swallowed as the huge erection bounced out—so thick, and long. He sheathed himself with the condom, his movements as clumsy and shaky as I felt.

Our gazes met again, his intense expression matched by my frantic heartbeat.

‘Adesso,’ he murmured.

Now…

It wasn’t a request, more like a statement of purpose. But I nodded anyway, wanting, needing to feel him inside me more than life itself.

Grasping my hips, he angled my pelvis so he could position himself to drive into the aching place desperate to be filled.

I bit my lip, hard enough to taste blood, the unbearable fullness turning to sharp pain as he tore through the barrier of my virginity.

He groaned, but his stunned reaction was quickly masked.

‘Sei vergine?’ he asked, his tone curt. And I realised he had guessed he was my first lover.

A part of me wanted to lie, embarrassed by my inexperience. But he was lodged so deep inside me, my sex clasping him so tightly, it was as if I could feel every pulse of that huge cock, every vein throbbing. And I had the weird thought that he could see into my soul in that moment, that we were joined in a way that meant he would know if I didn’t tell him the truth.

My heart thundered so violently it felt as if it would beat right out of my chest as I murmured, ‘Sì.’

The harsh frown was not what I had expected. But when I shifted, needing to ease the overwhelming fullness, and the feeling of being so exposed and vulnerable, his grip on my hips tightened, preventing me from drawing away from him.

‘No, Eva, ora sei mia,’ he murmured, the savage, possessive tone helping me to translate his words.

No, Eva, now you are mine…

Was I his? And why did the thought of being claimed by this wild, dangerous man feel as exhilarating as it was terrifying?

Before I could make sense of my tumultuous emotions, he sank deeper, claiming me in the most elemental way possible.

My sex contracted around him, the wave of pleasure combining with the pain, the feeling of being branded overwhelming.

I blinked furiously, trying not to cry as the emotion threatened to choke me. No one had ever wanted me this much before. Not my mother, who’d run off when I was still a kid, or the father I’d never known, and certainly not all the boys I’d kissed in school and beyond, who had never touched me with such purpose and determination.

He wiped the errant tear away with his thumb.

‘Non piangere,’ he murmured.

The gruff tone wrapped around my heart and squeezed, my reaction as powerful as it was inexplicable. How could I feel so connected to him? As if he was the only person who had ever really seen me?

He drew out slowly. I shuddered, feeling the loss immediately, but then he pressed back—going deeper, taking more. He established a punishing rhythm, conquering every inch of me. Until the overwhelming sensations began to twist and coil in my abdomen again. Not quite pleasure and not quite pain, just that brutally full feeling—of being owned, of being his.

He thrust, out and back, moving faster and further each time, his gaze locked on mine, one hand clasping the headboard while the other curved around my bottom, urging me to move with him in the wild dance. The rapturous licks turned to furious waves, building, burning, forcing me into the maelstrom again and obliterating the last of the pain.

I clung to his shoulders, slick with sweat, assisting in my own destruction as my hips found the rhythm. His grunts matched my sobs as we powered towards the bright, brilliant crest together.

‘Sì, di più. Di più,’ he coaxed, demanded, his voice hoarse.

He drove into me one last time, shattering the last of my resistance, as I reached that merciless oblivion at last. The orgasm exploded through my nerve-endings—sending me flying over as he collapsed over me, his shuddering breaths as hoarse and jagged as mine.