“Hey.” He catches my arm. I register alarm on his face, regret even, but I don’t care. It’s probably just the sexual frustration, but I’m pissed. Ready to knee him in the balls again, pissed.
Although I wouldn’t do that to him again.
“Hey.” He matches my intensity, spinning me around and pinning my arms behind my back. He pushes my torso down over the desk and smacks my ass.
“Stefano,” I grit through my teeth.
He smacks me again. “Yes?”
“You’d better fuck me now or I will seriously never speak to you again.”
He doesn’t answer, but starts spanking me, hard and fast.
It’s exactly what I need, the sharp slaps matching my fire, meeting me, channeling my fury into something more sensual. More satisfying.
I struggle, not because I want to get away, but because he’s right; I like to be held captive. I like to know I can’t escape, to feel his strength, to surrender to his will, which I know will leave me satisfied.
He doesn’t stop—not until my ass burns, even with the protection of my jeans. A mixture of triumph and relief rushes through me when he finally releases my arms and works open the button of my jeans, the bulge of his cock pressed insistently against my ass.
Flutters bloom in my belly. Stefano shoves my pants and panties down a second time, then slaps me between the legs.
I groan. I don’t even register the smack as pain. It’s all a means to release, to satisfaction. “Please,” I mumble. I guess all my bluster is gone. I’m his now—all it took was a spanking. Or the knowing I’ll soon get what I need.
I hear the crinkle of foil as Stefano makes sure to protect me, and then he slams in all the way. I gasp at the sensation of being nearly split in two. Stefano shudders, staying buried in me. Whether it’s for me to adjust or for him, I can’t be sure. One thing I do know—when he starts, he’s going to bring it.
He grips my hips and, as expected, backs up and slams in hard again. The rhythm he sets is fast and brutal. My hands fly to the desk to brace myself, lift my face off the desk before I get hurt.
I sink into the experience, surrender completely lost in the waves of sensation that cascade through me. The phone flies off the desk. A notepad, my phone charger. I both need to come and don’t want it to end.
Stefano changes to quick up-thrusts, changing the angle to fill me even more.
I moan and whine, push my torso up so I’m leaning on my hands. I look over my shoulder at him, already sorry for my temper. Wanting to make sure he’s not mad.
He is. His jaw flexes, eyes are black and unforgiving. He catches my hair in his fist and pulls my mouth back to his, dragging his lips across mine. I kiss him back, eager to give now, wanting to speed his satisfaction so I get mine.
Need.
Must.
Please.
“Stefano,” I pant when he breaks the kiss.
“Tell me you’re moving in.” His guttural tones are hard, more a growl than words. His loins slam into my smarting ass with thrust after forceful thrust.
“Okay!” I surrender. “Yes, I’ll move in.”
“Now,” he demands. He’s totally pissed.
“Now, yes.”
Tears spike my eyes for a reason I can’t fully comprehend, but Stefano comes and he pinches my clit and a nipple at the same time so I come, too. I toss my head back on a strangled cry, my body bucking against his, pussy milking his cock for all it’s worth.
Stefano gentles, stroking a hand up and down my throat while still buried inside me. He kisses the side of my face and I turn away.
“I’m keeping my apartment,” I say, like I’m a child who has to win one small point.
Stefano pulls out and throws away the condom while I pull my pants back up and zip them. When he returns, he spins me around and cradles my head. He kisses me once, sensually, his lips gliding over mine.
“Okay. I get it. You need to know you have somewhere to go if this doesn’t pan out.” He watches my face closely and must see confirmation there, because he nods. “Fine. You do what you need to do. But if you think I don’t want to burn that fucking place to the ground, you’re delusional.”
My lip curls. “Why?” I demand.
“You lived there with your testa di cazzo ex. I don’t like you being there.”
I admit I’m surprised. Stefano hasn’t shown jealousy before. I figure he’s confident enough, he doesn’t have to worry. Maybe I read it wrong.
“It was my place before he lived there. I paid the rent. I cleaned. He was just an asshole who lived there for a while.”
“Okay.” Stefano still doesn’t sound happy, but he’s conceding. He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Are you okay?”