Page 144 of Merciless Queen

“You’re doing well,signora.You feel so fucking good. All tight and wet and…mine.”

His teeth gently sink into my neck, imprinting his possessive proclamation there. It feels so damn right that I don’t correct him. I don’twantto direct him.

Zeno lets out a small sound and mumbles into my neck. “How are you so perfect?”

Between paced breaths, I manage, “Careful with the compliments, Mancini. A girl can get used to those.”

My words crash down when I realize what I’ve said, the way he could take them.

Thankfully, Zeno’s focus seems to be entirely on my body and his fingers pick a pace that has my eyes rolling in the back of my head, so before he completely sweeps me away, I push out my only demand of the night.

“Zeno…I want you…to fuck me.”

He smiles into my skin. “And I want another orgasm from you. You’ve handed me your submission for tonight, and it’s too late to turn back.” Like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, he freezes, his eyes jerking to mine. “It’s not. Say the word if you’re uncomf?—”

I shut him up with a kiss.

His fingers continue fucking me. His tongue matches his pace.

My body climbs to the uppermost height and when I crash down, it’s with a pain I’ll never know again—longing. My sounds echo around the club, my core impossibly tight around his fingers, even as he slowly tugs them out.

Zeno leans back until he’s kneeling between my legs, his hunger apparent. Gaze mated to mine, he reaches for his belt. Just when I think I’ll finally get to see him, he suddenly releases his belt and tips his head to the side, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“I have a better idea. Get up and walk toward the balcony.”

I glance toward the glass balcony I once leaned on with Anastasia while scoping out the dance floor. It was when I first saw him, when my life changed.

Swiftly, I get to my feet but not before reaching down to unclasp my heels—the only article of clothing I’m still wearing—but his gruff command stops me. “No, leave those on.”

His demand sends a pleasurable shiver down my spine and I continue toward the balcony.

“Keep your back to me. Face down below.”

I take my time striding across the floor to the same section of the railing I last stood, propping my elbows on the railing in an eerily identical position.

The air prickles with an energy that both eases and excites me. He’s too silent and I don’t hear him undress, but suddenly, he’s right there, hands clasping my hips, his chest against my back, his thick cock deliciously hard against my ass.

He leans forward until I’m partially bent over the railing. His head dips into my neck, and he breathes deeply. “The end of our story will occur where it began. I’m fucking you against this balcony while you stare at the place we met.”

He readjusts himself, his cock sliding against my wet pussy. I stop breathing, waiting for what he’ll give me.

“Hands on the railing.”

Without a second thought, I obey him, my fingers curling tight with anticipation.

“Sei così dannatamente sexy.”

His words tattoo themselves on my skin, along with all my others. This one isn’t a symbol of being a criminal, but a sign of what Zeno is to me—what I’ll never label.

He lifts my right leg up, holding beneath my knee and spreading me wider. “Hold on tight,” is his only warning before he sinks inside me.

Given how wet I am, it’s not long before he’s fully seated inside me, and our shared moans become the club’s music. His thrust the beat. My cry the tune. His cock stretches me, fills meand he grants me mere seconds to adjust to him before setting the pace.

His hand tightens around my knee to keep me immobile and steady, while his other fists my hair and arches my head back until it touches his shoulder. He’s controlling me utterly and completely, my body contorted to stare at the strobe lights above.

“Ti odio.”

Thrust.

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