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But he swore and gathered my hair in his fist, a gentle command to arch my back. I did, because what choice did I have?
Except somehow he made it feel like I still did. That no one was there but us, and if I called a halt to this, begged him to go no further, he would abide my wishes. The risks he faced—we faced—wouldn’t be a factor.
No matter what, I wouldn’t allow him to be hurt any more.
“Doleo,” he breathed against my ear, causing a tremor to go through me. He understood, and he was sorry too. Sorry even before he made the first move.
I turned my head and met his fiery, nearly black eyes. And I nodded, offering the permission he wasn’t supposed to need.
His free hand skimmed down the back of my thigh, slipped inward toward the crease between my legs. A part of me had gone distant, cataloguing what was happening like a mildly interested bystander. The rest quivered under his skillful touch, offering wetness where it was required, providing heat to ease the way. My thong offered no resistance and with a few flicks, it was tucked to the side. Then his fingers were there, caressing my flesh, drawing a sound from me that wasn’t quite pleasure and wasn’t yet pain.
That would come. It was a virtual certainty. Now we were caught in the space between, not where we’d been two hours ago but not yet where we were headed either.
Trapped together.
I wasn’t prepared for him to drag me up and turn me around, to push me back onto the table while my eyes were locked on his. There was nowhere else to look. Nothing could hold my attention but him. Not the men who watched us for their own sick amusement or the club that had brought me to this point. I didn’t believe in fairytales, hadn’t since I was a little girl, but for that instant, I was the princess being carted away from the bleak misery that surrounded us.
There was only him, and his hand clamped around the back of my neck to bring my face close to his. He didn’t kiss me, didn’t nuzzle me, didn’t whisper words of comfort. He only stared in my eyes, into me, and erased every other part of our reality but him sliding into me, thick and hot.
What little had passed for foreplay hadn’t even been needed. I’d been waiting for this for what felt like an eternity, and the fact that men with guns loomed behind Gio, crowding us on every side, couldn’t diminish what was happening between us. It was a moment we’d never planned, a step we might never have taken if not for these insane circumstances. But now that I was in his arms, nothing could hurt me.
Absolutely nothing.
While he slowly worked his cock in and out of me, his thumb brushed over the top of my spine. Back and forth, back and forth. How he could settle me in the center of something so much larger than both of us I would never understand. He sped up, his breath stuttering against my lips, making mine unsteady too. Locking my legs around his hips was as natural as breathing, as was dropping my head to his shoulder. I’d barely made contact before his gentle grip led me right back until we were eye-to-eye.
He didn’t need words for me to get his meaning.
Look here. Only here. At me.
His forehead rested against mine and I bit my lip, wanting so badly to taste his lips. But his urgent breaths were the only hint he gave me, flavored with something sweet and fruity. He’d had some kind of mixed drink. Pineapple.
Inexplicably, Kizzy popped in my head.
Make your guy drink pineapple juice. Flavor his jizz, and you’ll both be happy.
His next thrust stole the smile that hadn’t even had a chance to form. I gasped and clung to his rippling biceps through his cotton button-down shirt, wishing he was naked. That I was naked. Not here, but someplace where we could be alone.
Where this would be right.
Another thrust followed the last, deeper, harder. As if he were driving a point home, one I hadn’t been told. He said nothing, and didn’t touch me beyond his hand on my neck, that thumb still sweeping like a metronome.
Until something snapped inside him and he swore, dragging me closer, pinching my hip in his calloused fingers. His other hand disappeared under my skirt, and then he was working me, rough and demanding, his blue-black eyes blazing into mine while we both neared an orgasm that was more freight train than a spasm of pleasure. It would flatten me, leave me broken and ruined.
At the last second, I tried to wiggle back, to stop the ferocity of it from claiming me. I didn’t want to come like this, not here. My climax wasn’t meant for them to see. Even if I was giving it only to him, to Giovanni, they would know.
He cursed and hauled me right back, drawing a sharp cry from my throat as he nearly tipped me off the table to slam his cock deeper. It sent me flying, and I let out a scream of fury, of terror, of sheer, overpowering relief. All the while, he continued to fuck me in precise, churning strokes, his eyes burning on the verge of madness.
A vein throbbed crazily in his temple, warning me. Then he exploded inside me, so deep that I jerked back to try to escape. He dragged me in again and buried his face in my hair, sucking in long draughts of air that didn’t seem to fill his lungs.
Somehow I found myself patting his back, holding him to me through his endless shudders. I was still trembling too, but I didn’t think it was for the same reason.
Almost on accident, I glanced over Gio’s heaving shoulders straight into the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen. Marco. How had I missed the meanness in them before?
I’d missed so much.
He started to slow clap, and in my arms, Gio shuddered one more time. I stroked his hair and set my jaw.
“We’re leaving.” I placed my bare feet firmly on the grimy floor. The movement forced Gio to leave my body. He stumbled back, wiping his mouth though he hadn’t kissed me. I’d begged for that kiss wordlessly, and he’d held it back.
