Page 85 of Ruined By Capture

He captures my mouth again, swallowing my words. His hand slides down to grip my hip, pulling me tighter against him. I can feel how much he wants me, hard and insistent against my stomach.

When he finally breaks the kiss we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, our shared air hot between us.

"Mine," he whispers, and it doesn't sound like possession anymore—it sounds like wonder.

I look up at Alessio, my body thrumming with need. The intensity in his dark eyes makes my knees weak. I've never wanted anyone the way I want him—completely, desperately.

"I want you," I whisper, my voice trembling with desire. "Inside me. Now."

His lips curve into that menacing smile that makes my pulse race. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, his touch featherlight yet commanding.

"Not yet,piccola." Husky with repressed hunger. "Not until you beg me for it."

Heat floods my cheeks. In my past life—before Alessio—I never would have begged anyone for anything. But here, pressed between his hard body and the door, pride seems irrelevant compared to the ache building between my thighs.

"Please," I manage, the plea feeling foreign on my tongue.

Alessio shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You can do better than that." His hand slides up my ribs, stopping just below my breast. "Tell me exactly what you want, Melania. Make me believe how badly you need it."

I swallow hard. Part of me wants to resist, to maintain some illusion of control. But another part—the part that's learning to surrender to him—knows the freedom that comes with letting go.

"Please, Alessio," I whisper, my fingers clutching his shoulders. "I need you inside me. I've never—" My voice catches as his thumb grazes the underside of my breast. "I've never wanted anyone like this. Please don't make me wait."

His eyes darken further, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of brown remains. "Say it again," he commands, his accent thick with desire. "Beg me properly."

"Please," I gasp, all pretense of dignity abandoned. "Please, Alessio. I'm begging you. I need to feel you inside me. I need you to take me, make me yours. Please..."

A low growl rumbles in his chest and I know I've broken through his control. His hands grind my hips and his mouth crashes down on mine with bruising intensity.

Alessio's hands slide to the zipper of my jeans, tugging it down with deliberate slowness. Then he does the same with my shirt. The fabric loosens around me and he pushes it off my shoulders. He groans, staring at me, leaving me in just my underwear.

"Beautiful," he says, his eyes traveling over my body with such heat I can almost feel it like a physical scorch.

I reach for him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He helps me, shrugging it off his broad shoulders. My breath catches at the sight of him. The bandage on his arm covers what will now be little more than a scratch, the wound from the bullet graze already healing.

I run my fingers over his chest, outlining the defined muscles, feeling his heart beating into my palm as though staking its claim. He unclasps my bra with practiced ease and I let it fall away.

His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I arc into his touch with a gasp.

He strips off the rest of his clothes and I can't help but stare. He's magnificent—powerful thighs, narrow hips, and his dick... My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, thick and hard and intimidating in the best possible way.

"See something you like?" he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smirk that makes my knees weak.

"You're so big," I whisper, unable to keep the thought to myself as I feel him against me.

His eyes glitter at my awe and he captures my mouth in a kiss that steals my air. His tongue slides against mine, demanding.

Alessio's hands slide down my body, again gripping my hips firmly. "Turn around," he commands, his voice a rough whisper in my ear.

I comply, pressing my palms against the door’s smooth wood. His body heat radiates into my back as he steps closer, his hands skimming down my sides to hook into my underwear. With one swift motion, he drags the fabric down my legs.

The sharp crack of his palm against my ass makes me gasp, the sting blooming into heat that spreads through my body. "So perfect," he murmurs, kneading the flesh he just struck.

Then he's gone, the sudden absence of his kneading inciting deeper yearning. I resist the urge to look back, to see where he's gone. The anticipation builds in my stomach, a delicious tension that has me shifting my weight from foot to foot.

When he returns, his hands are on me again, more insistent now. "Lift your right leg," he orders, guiding my movement until my foot rests on the seat of a chair. The position leaves me completely exposed.

My cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as cool air hits my most intimate places. But there's no time to dwell on it before Alessio drops to his knees behind me.

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