His hand still locked around her wrist. Not crushing, not forcing—just there. Unyielding. A weight she couldn't shake.
"Let go," Lina whispered.
"No." His eyes dragged over her face, her lips, the faint tremor in her jaw. "You don't want me to."
Luca's thumb brushed the inside of her wrist — lazy, deliberate — and her whole arm lit with fire. She wanted to wrench free, wanted to spit venom at him, but her body betrayed her. Heat curled low, coiled tight, desperate and furious.
"You hate it, don't you?" he murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath grazed her ear. "That you want me like this. That you only breathe when I don't let you go."
Her chest heaved, her laugh breaking against him, jagged and wild. "You're delusional."
He kissed her then — not tender, not sweet. A claim, all teeth and possession. Her back hit the wall before she realized he'd moved her there, and the sound of crystal clinking faintly on the side table only sharpened the edges of it.
His mouth dragged down her jaw, hot and insistent, leaving her trembling with anger and need. "Say it," he demanded against her skin. "Say you're mine."
Her nails bit into his shoulders, half to shove him away, half to anchor herself. "I'll never—"
He held her wrist firm against the wall, his body pinned her in ways that went deeper — every inch of him a barrier she wanted to hate, wanted to break, but could only ache for.
Her breath came ragged as his mouth found hers again, devouring, claiming. She bit back, teeth scraping his lower lip until he groaned against her — not in pain, but in a sound that made her thighs tighten.
"You fight," he murmured, dragging his lips down the column of her throat, tasting her pulse. "And you burn. But you never walk away."
Luca's fingers slid down her thigh, dragging heat into the center of her until he cupped her, palm flush against the wet swell between her legs. His smirk deepened when he felt how drenched she already was.
"God, Lina…" His voice cracked low, reverent and cruel at once. "Your pussy's begging before I even touch you."
She jerked against his hand, fury and want twisting, but when he dragged a finger through her folds the sound was wet and obscene, filling the room.
"Stop—" she hissed, chest heaving.
Her nails raked his back through his shirt, sharp, furious. "I should—hate you."
"You do," he growled, pressing harder, fingers finding her with practiced precision. "And you still want me."
He pushed two fingers inside her, sudden and deep. She gasped, back arching off the wall as her body clamped tight around him, slick spilling down his hand.
"Say stop again," he growled, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. "Say it while you drip all over me."
Her head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut, the city lights fractured behind her lids as he worked her apart. Each stroke tore another broken sound from her lips until she couldn't hide them anymore, couldn't pretend her body didn't answer his every command.
"Say it," he demanded, his mouth hot at her ear, his breath ragged now too. "Say it while I have you like this."
Her body arched, betraying her in the most brutal, undeniable way. Heat consumed her, built sharp and fast, too much to hold back.
Her mouth opened, but the words tangled into a moan, raw and broken. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he fucked her with his hand, each thrust wetter than the last. Her thighs shook, juices running down to his wrist, soaking him.
"You hear that?" he murmured, lips brushing her ear as the wet slap of his fingers drove her wild. "That's your body admitting you're mine."
Her head hit the wall, sweat dampening her hairline. She tried to fight, tried to hold herself back, but he curled his fingers inside her and her pussy clenched so hard she cried out, the orgasm ripping through her in violent waves.
She shook against him, soaking his hand, dripping down her thighs. But he didn't stop.
"Don't you dare think you're finished," Luca snarled, driving back into her, faster now, wetter, his palm slick and shining with her arousal. "Not until you break again for me."
"Listen to yourself," he whispered against her throat, teeth grazing. "Dripping for the man you swore you hated."
Her hips bucked against his hand, shame and hunger colliding until she couldn't tell the difference. She tried to twist away, but the more she fought, the deeper his fingers slid, coaxing her slickness over his skin, spreading her open until she was trembling, grinding against him without meaning to.
Her legs trembled, nearly giving out, but he caught her, lifted her thigh against his hip, and fucked her with his fingers deeper, harder, the squelch of her dripping pussy loud in the hush of the room.
"Luca—" she gasped, nails raking his skin, half-scream, half-plea.
"That's it," he urged, grinding his palm harder against her clit. "Come for me again. Let me feel you soak me."
And she did. Harder than before. Her body snapped, orgasm tearing her apart, pussy clenching and spilling, juices running down his hand to the leather beneath them. She cried out his name this time, broken, unable to deny it.
He kissed her then, harsh and deep, swallowing her moans as she collapsed against him, dripping, trembling, ruined in his arms.
When he finally eased his fingers free, they glistened in the low light, coated in her wetness. He brought them to her lips, pressing them there, smearing her own taste across her mouth.
"Every drop," he whispered. "Mine."
And Lina, shaking and spent, couldn't stop herself. She opened her lips and let him slide those soaked fingers past them.
Luca scooped her up, one arm under her thighs, the other at her back. She tried to protest, her breath jagged, but the wetness soaking between her legs betrayed her, slick dripping against his wrist as he carried her deeper into the lounge.
He laid her down on the wide leather bed hidden behind the curtain, the kind of decadent thing meant for secrets like this. She tried to push up on her elbows, defiance flickering in her eyes — but her arms gave, trembling too hard to hold her weight.
Luca leaned over her, his shirt hanging open now, his cheek still red from her slap. He licked it once, slow, like tasting the memory of her fight.
"You're still shaking," he murmured, dragging his soaked fingers back down her body. "And you're still dripping for me."
Her legs pressed together instinctively, but he slid his hand between them, parting her thighs, exposing the swollen, wet heat of her pussy. She whimpered when the cool air hit her, wetter than she wanted him to see.
"Look at this mess," he said, fingers spreading her folds. The sound was obscene, slick and sticky, her juices glistening across his hand. "All mine."
Then he was on her again, mouth crashing to hers as two fingers slid back inside, deeper this time, curling up until she arched off the bed with a cry. His palm ground hard against her clit, and the wet rhythm filled the air, sloppy and shameless.
Her hips bucked, grinding against his hand even as she shook her head. "No—I can't—"
"Yes, you can," he growled, fucking her harder with his fingers, each thrust squelching, soaking the sheets beneath her. "You're going to come for me again. You're going to soak this bed until you can't even say your own name."
Her pussy clenched tight around him, dripping so much now that it ran down between her thighs. He dropped his head to her chest, biting just above her nipple through the fabric, making her arch again, a sharp gasp breaking loose.
"Say it," he demanded against her skin, teeth scraping. "Say this pussy is mine."
She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes, but her body betrayed her — grinding, clenching, fluttering around his fingers as he drove her higher.
"Say it," he growled again, faster now, soaking wet, the sound of her slickness echoing like music.
Her scream broke free as the orgasm ripped her apart again, her whole body convulsing, pussy gripping his hand so tight it was almost painful, juices spilling down his wrist and splattering the sheets.
When she collapsed back into the bed, shaking and drenched, he finally pulled his fingers out — soaked, glistening, dripping with her. He spread them over her thigh, smearing her arousal against her skin like a mark.
"You think I'm done?" he whispered darkly, climbing onto the bed with her, pressing her trembling legs apart again. His mouth hovered just above her soaked cunt, his breath hot against her swollen folds.
"No," he said, voice breaking into hunger. "I'm going to taste you next. I'm going to drink every drop you give me. And you're not leaving this bed until this pussy forgets it ever belonged to anyone but me."