Page 59 of The Don's Soulmate

I feel her body tremble against me and the blood gushes to my ears. I need to hear no more. She said so herself, in so many words, that she wants me.

"Good," I snarl, giving in to the primal need coursing through my veins. I release her arms, and she clenches them around my neck. Famished, I slam my lips against hers, biting, sucking. She pushes her tongue into my mouth, the tears from her lashes dripping down my cheeks My hands roam her body, claiming every inch of her soft, supple skin. She gasps, but no longer resists, her body melting against mine as she curves one leg around my waist.

I rip open her tight black dress, two buttons scattering across the cold tile floor like tiny pearls as I pull it down to her waist. My fingers trail along her collarbone, leaving a path of fire as they slide down to cup her breast through her bra. Her nipple hardens under my touch, and I allow myself a small, satisfied smirk as I pull down her bra, her breasts spilling free.

"Please, Ettore..." she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of our ragged breaths and the blood pounding in my ears.

"Please what, Carlotta?" I growl, nipping at her neck, marking her as mine. "Say it."

"Please... take me."

The words ignite something feral within me, and I lose all semblance of control. I push the skirt of her dress up around her waist, exposing her soaked panties.

I take my hand, jamming it over her panties, petting her hard. "Ettore..." she moans, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Shh," I command, my voice husky with the desire to pleaseher. "Just enjoy."

I curve the fabric into her, and I feel her pussy clench. I pull my hand away, sliding down her panties to her ankles. "Mmm, such a good girl," I murmur. "Spread your legs," I command, my voice rough with need. She complies, her thighs trembling as I position myself between them.

In a sweep, I slam my finger in with a curved arch. Carlotta gasps, her head falling back, and I take her lips to mine. Our tongues tangle and dance, matching the rhythm of my fingers as they pump in and out of her.

"Fuck, Carlotta," I groan, unable to contain the surge of lust that overtakes me. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

"Mm-hmm" she moans against her lips, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin.

Giving in, I unzip my pants with my free hand and release my throbbing erection. I then pull my finger out only to hear her protest, silencing it when I curve my arm around her waist and force her around, bending her down in front of me, her arms reaching out instinctively for support to the wall, her hair falling down her arched back. I brush the tip of my cock brushing against the line of her ass, tracing down to her swollen clit and smacking my tip against it, eliciting a sharp gasp from Carlotta.

I push inside her in one smooth stroke, relishing the way her heat envelops me. Her muscles clench against my cock, drawing me in deeper, and I know there's no going back. There’s an overwhelming need to possess her completely, to claim her as mine in every way possible.

And with that, I start to move, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her, each thrust pushing deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the small space, drowning out the sound, smell, sight of anything but her.

I look down, to see her body curved like a gorgeous racetrack, and twist my hand through her hair, arching her back up towards me. She mewls, a small, delicate sound as I bend lower and clutch her breast in my hand, my cock ramming into her.

And then, I look down, freezing in place.

From where I moved her hair, I see a small dark mark. A heart shaped little thing, raised from her skin, like something was torn out from her.

“Ettore,” she asks, turning her head back, trying to look at me from where she’s bent down. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I hear wind, and thunder, and see fire.

“Impossible…” I whisper, my cock still throbbing in her, my body frozen in place. I bend down, touch the mark with my finger. A fierce fire burns in my finger from my touch, and she lurches. “I have one just like it,” I whisper.

She gasps, freezing now. “No,” she whimpers. “It can’t be.”

I pull out, grab her waist, make her stand and slam her against the wall. “Since when?” I ask, my face inches away from hers.

Her eyes, petrified, look over at me and I slide down my shirt one shoulder, turning to give her a look. A gasp escapes her lips as she takes in the matching mark on my shoulder, the realization dawning on her. "We've…"

“Got the same mark,” I mutter, my lips brushing against her ear.

Her eyes widen, as if seeing me in a new light. And that's when the intensity changes. The lust, the anger, the possessiveness - it all melts away, replaced by something softer, more tender.

She gazes at me, her eyes full of wonder and fear. "What does this mean?" she whispers. “I… I’ve dreamt of a man, a man with my mark. A man…”

“Like me,” I whisper, the blood draining from my face.

She looks at me, her eyes filled with curiosity and fear. "Do you understand?" she asks, biting her lip.

“Your dreams,” I ask, desperate for answers. “What were they?”

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