Page 88 of His

My orgasm exploded over me before I could even think to try to stop it. Every nerve in my body fired at once, raw electricity surging through me, turning my vision white. I bucked and writhed and arched against him, screaming his name.

He continued to fuck me, harder and harder until my climax crested, leaving my head up somewhere in the clouds and making me free fall into another and another until I didn’t know up from down or left from right.

It was a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, and all I could do was let myself go.

Let myself drown in it.

Inhim.

His hips jerked, his body stiffening, his release pouring into me. Every surge of his seed marked me as his, utterly and completely. When it was all over, we were both left trembling, panting, our hearts pounding in unison. After a moment, hecollapsed onto the bed beside me, his breathing ragged, his face flushed, and his gaze met mine, just as intense and commanding as it always was.

“Tell me again who’s in control,” he growled softly as he swung his arm toward me, pinning me in place with his body as his fingers instantly found my clit and rubbed it hard, forcing my pleasure to come to a head in seconds.

“You are,” I cried out, my heartbeat thumping in my ears, and I arched off the bed, delirious with desire pumping through me and I moaned, lost in everything that was us.

“That’s my good girl. I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, Sofia. Do you understand me,la mia bella? You are mine. Forever. And no one will ever take you away from me,” he murmured, his eyes boring into mine, and my heart exploded in my chest.

“I love you too,” I whispered, my eyes tearing as yet another orgasm blinded me.

When I came again, the edges of my vision darkened, and I squeezed my eyes shut, tears leaking out and sliding down my cheeks.

In that moment, I broke.

And then I passed out.

CHAPTER 27

Sofia

It had taken weeks of negotiations, strings pulled in every corner of the legal system, and a lot of favors called in, but Massimo finally got my father out. In the end, we got him released on a technicality that Enzo had uncovered in the mountains of paperwork involved with the case. I could still remember the look on my father’s face when he’d walked out of those prison gates, confusion mixed with relief, his eyes scanning the horizon for a familiar face.

I’d been waiting for him.

Two days had slipped by, and I hadn’t allowed Massimo anywhere near my father. I needed to handle this myself first, to explain, to help him understand what Massimo meant to me before he stormed in and asserted his presence in my life. I had to make Papa see that this was my choice—that I loved Massimo, and no matter what happened, I wouldn’t be walking away from him.

In that time, Papa had called and messaged countless times, his voice tinged with concern and frustration, asking why I hadn’t come home, why I was staying with Massimo instead. I knew he was worried, that he feared I was making a mistake, but this was something I had to make him see for himself.

So I arranged a meeting. I sent him a message, asking him to meet me at our favorite café in the city, the one with the tiny tables and the rich, dark coffee we both enjoyed. The same place he used to take me every Sunday morning when life was simpler, and my only concern was whether to choose a croissant or a muffin for breakfast.

I waited, sipping on a cappuccino, the bitter taste settling my nerves as I sat by the window, watching the door. I could feel my heart pounding, the uncertainty twisting in my stomach. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Papa was stubborn, protective—everything a father should be. But I needed him to hear me out, to understand that this was real, and that it wasn’t some reckless fling.

When the door finally opened, and I saw him step inside, I felt a rush of relief mixed with dread. He looked tired, his face drawn and pale, but there was still a fire in his eyes. His gaze softened when he saw me though, just like it always did.

“Sofia,” he greeted me, his voice low, cautious, as he pulled out the chair across from me. “You wanted to talk?”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, Papa,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light. “There’s something important I need to tell you.”

He eyed me warily, his hands clasping together on the table. “Is this about Massimo?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

I nodded again, my heart racing. “Yes,” I admitted, meeting his gaze directly. “I need you to know… that he’s not just helping me, Papa. He’s… he’s more than that. We’re together.”

His eyes widened, his jaw tightening. “Together?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “Sofia, what are you saying?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice, trying to soften the blow. “I love him, Papa,” I confessed, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “And he loves me. We’ve decided… to be together, for real.”

His face fell, disbelief mingling with anger. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He’s twice your age. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Sofia.”

“I know exactly what I’m getting into,” I replied firmly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “And I need you to trust me, Papa. I’m not a little girl anymore. I know what I want.”

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