The air between us is molten. He doesn't touch me at first—just watches, the kind of gaze that strips me bare and makes my pulse throb in places I shouldn't admit.
"Come here," Damiano says, voice like smoke and command.
I take a step, then another, the towel slipping slightly at my chest. His eyes darken. By the time I reach the bed, my hands are trembling. He crooks a finger, guiding me to stand between his spread legs. One slow tug and the towel falls, pooling at my feet.
"Mmm… bella," he murmurs, hands skating up my thighs, not rushing—exploring.
When his mouth finally touches my skin, it's at the soft inside of my knee. He kisses higher.
Higher. By the time his lips brush the edge of my panties, my breath is coming in short, shaky pulls.
"Damiano…" It's almost a plea.
He grins against me, wicked. "Patience, bambina. I like my meal slow."
His tongue traces the thin lace, hot and deliberate. A single finger hooks beneath, sliding the fabric aside. Cool air meets heat, and then—
God.
The first stroke of his tongue is molten lightning. I grip his hair, hips bucking, but he pins me with one hand, holding me still while his mouth works me with infuriating precision.
"Sweet," he murmurs, voice muffled. "Addictive."
Two fingers slide inside me, curling, finding that spot that makes my knees weaken instantly. My moans spill out, shameless now, my body arching into him as the tension builds unbearably.
"More," I beg, the word breaking apart. "Please—Damiano, I—"
He pulls back, just enough to make me whimper, his lips glistening, eyes dark as sin.
"You'll get it, bella. Every inch. But you're going to scream my name when you do."
Damiano's gaze holds mine for a heartbeat, and then his mouth is back on me—hungrier this time, relentless. His tongue moves in tight, devastating circles, while his fingers thrust inside me, curling and pressing against that tender, electric spot.
"Oh—God—" My head tips back, my voice breaking as pleasure crashes over me in shuddering waves.
He doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down. The bed creaks as I writhe against him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clutching the sheet for dear life. He groans low in his chest, as if my taste is his favorite sin.
"Damiano—" My voice is raw now, his name tumbling from my lips over and over like a prayer I can't stop saying. "I can't—please—I'm gonna—"
"Do it," he growls, the vibration sending a violent tremor through me. "Come for me, bella. I want it."
That's all it takes. I break apart on his mouth, thighs trembling uncontrollably, heat flooding me as he holds me there, riding the wave until I'm gasping and half-limp in his grip. When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin are wet, his storm-dark eyes burning. He licks me from his mouth slowly, like he's savoring the last drop of something precious.
"Mmm," he murmurs. "Better than I imagined."
Before I can catch my breath, he's standing, towering over me, stripping his shirt in one smooth pull. My gaze drops to the hard, thick length pressing against his zipper, and my pulse spikes all over again.
"Now," he says, voice low and final. "I'm going to fuck you."
His pants hit the floor, and my breath catches. He's huge—thick, long, the head flushed and heavy. The kind of cock you feel in your stomach. Damiano kneels over me, his big hands spreading my knees wider, his body blocking out the rest of the world.
"Look at me, Ava," he orders.
I do—and then I feel him, the blunt heat of him pressing against my entrance.
Slowly, he pushes in, inch by inch, stretching me open until I gasp and my nails dig into his shoulders.
"Damiano—" It's half a moan, half a plea.
"Shh," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me, swallowing the sounds I make. "Take me, bella. Every. Inch."
He sinks deeper, the thick weight of him filling me completely. My back arches into the burn, the stretch, the perfect pressure. When he's fully inside, he pauses—just to let me feel it, to let me know how big he is and how much of him I've taken.
Then he starts to move. Slow at first, deliberate thrusts that make my body sing with pleasure, his hips grinding down so I feel him everywhere. My nails rake down his back as he speeds up, the slap of skin against skin mingling with our breathing.
"God—yes—" I moan into his mouth, and he growls, rolling his hips harder.
And then he flips me. I'm on my knees, my chest pressed to the mattress, his big hand on the back of my neck keeping me in place.
"Stay there," he commands, sliding into me from behind in one brutal stroke that knocks the air from my lungs.
The pace is relentless now—sharp, deep backshots that make the headboard slam into the wall, each thrust hitting that spot that makes me see white. I cry out his name, over and over, my body shaking as another orgasm tears through me, and he fucks me through it, relentless, owning every sound I make.
My thighs are trembling, my hands clawing at the sheets for something—anything—to hold on to as he pounds into me.
"Damiano—oh God—" My voice is wrecked, breaking on each thrust.
He leans over my back, his chest pressing to me, his lips at my ear.
"You feel that, bella? That's yours. Every tight little squeeze—" He punctuates the words with a deep roll of his hips that makes me cry out.
"—every moan, every breath. Mine."
I can't speak, can't think. I'm lost in the rhythm of him, the sound of skin slapping, the deep, guttural groans that vibrate against my spine.
His hand slides between my thighs, fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles while he drives into me from behind. The double assault makes my vision blur.
"Oh—fuck—Damiano—" My nails tear at the sheets. My body is climbing again, fast, my muscles tightening around him like a vice.
"That's it," he growls, his thrusts growing harder, faster. "Milk my cock, Ava. Give me that sweet cunt while I'm still inside you."
I break—shattering around him, my body pulsing in wave after wave as he fucks me through it, his hand never stopping on my clit. I can't stop moaning his name, can't stop shaking, can't stop clenching around him.
"Good girl," he rasps, his voice dark and ragged, but he doesn't slow. If anything, he fucks me harder, his hips slamming into mine, the wet sound of us filling the room, the sheets twisted beneath us.
"Not done with you yet, bella," he promises, pulling me upright so my back is flush to his chest, his cock still buried deep inside me.
His hand slides up, wrapping around my throat—not tight, just enough to make me shiver—while his other hand keeps working my clit.
"Gonna make you come again before I'm finished."
"Damiano—please—" I'm so close I can taste it, my body a live wire ready to snap.
But just when that heat in my belly is about to detonate, he *pulls his hand away*.
A desperate whimper rips from my throat. "No—don't—"
He chuckles darkly against my ear, his breath hot and taunting. "Not yet, bella. I want you desperate for it."
Then he drives into me harder—relentless—each thrust deep enough to make the air punch out of my lungs. The sound of him slamming into me is filthy, raw, the wetness between us obscene. I'm trembling from the force of it, my knees nearly giving out, but his arm wraps tight around my waist, holding me in place while his cock spears into me over and over.
"You feel how hard I am for you?" he growls, voice vibrating low in my spine. "That's what you do to me and I'm not stopping until you're screaming my name so loud the whole building hears."
The pressure builds again—too much, too good, but he still doesn't let me go over. He keeps me there, hovering, drowning in pleasure without release.mMy nails dig into his forearm, my breath ragged. "Damiano, I can't—"
"You will," he rasps, turning my face just enough to kiss me—hard, devouring, his tongue claiming me the way his cock claims my body.
When he finally slides his hand back between my thighs and rubs my clit, it's like flipping a switch. The orgasm tears through me—violent, breathtaking—my entire body clamping down around him. He snarls against my mouth, his thrusts growing ragged, erratic, until he buries himself to the hilt and groans my name.
Hot release floods me as he holds me tight, both of us shuddering, moaning, lost in the raw high of finishing together. Our breaths mingle, our bodies still connected, the scent of sex heavy between us.
His weight sinks into me as his hips slow, the brutal rhythm melting into something slower, deeper, like he doesn't want to leave me yet. Damiano's forehead rests against mine, his breath still rough but warm on my lips. His hand cups the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair like I might vanish if he lets go.
"You're mine, Ava," he murmurs, almost like it's a secret. There's no steel in it now, no command—just quiet certainty.
I can still feel him inside me, the slow, lazy pulse of him matched to my own heartbeat. My body is trembling, not from exhaustion, but from the way he's still there, still wrapped around me like I'm something precious.
He kisses me—soft this time. No rush. No dominance. Just the taste of us and the slow drag of his lips against mine. His thumb brushes over my cheek, catching the dampness I didn't even realize was there.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice rough but… gentle.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Yeah." My voice is barely a whisper. "More than okay."
He smiles—small, rare and presses another kiss to my temple before finally pulling out, his hands steadying me when my knees wobble.
For a moment, the club, the danger, the debts, all of it fades away. It's just us, tangled together in a stolen pocket of softness that neither of us will admit we need.