Page 87 of Ruined By Capture

The sight of her—lips parted, my name on her tongue as pleasure takes her—pushes me over the edge. My rhythm falters as my release tears through me, white-hot and overwhelming. I bury myself deep inside her with a final thrust as I empty myself completely.

I grip Melania tight against me as the last waves of pleasure roll through us both. Our ragged breathing fills the space between us, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine. Sweat slicks our skin where we're pressed together, her legs still wrapped around my waist.

"We need to get in the shower," she whispers, her voice ragged. "And then just sleep."

I lower her until her feet touch the ground but before she can move away, I press her back against the wall. My hand slides upto wrap around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there with enough pressure to make her pulse jump beneath my palm.

"Let me make something clear, princess," I say, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I make the commands. You follow them."

Her pupils dilate, nearly swallowing the amber irises. She bites her lower lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh as a small moan escapes her. The sound goes straight to my groin despite my recent release.

"Are we clear?" I ask, my voice dropping to that register that makes her shiver.

She nods, then catches herself. "Yes," she breathes out, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Good girl," I praise, watching her reaction. Just as I expected the words hit her like a caress. Her eyelids flutter, another soft moan slipping past her lips as her body melts against mine.

I know exactly what those two simple words do to her—how they strip away her defenses and leave her bare and wanting. It's a power I never knew I craved until I discovered it with her.

I release my hold on her throat, stepping back just enough to permit her to move. She remains pressed against the wall, chest rising and falling with each rapid breath, her eyes locked on mine. The sight of her—flushed skin marked with my touch, lips swollen from my kisses—stirs possession in my chest.

"Move. Bathroom. Now." I punctuate my command with a sharp smack to her ass that echoes in the room.

She jumps at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips. For a heartbeat I see that calculating look flash across her face—the one that tells me she's weighing her options, deciding whether to challenge me. Then her expression changes and her shoulders relax as she surrenders to the moment, to me.

"Yes," she whispers, pushing herself away from the wall.

I watch her walk toward the bathroom, hips swaying with each step. The brand of my hands stand out on her skin—evidence of my claim on her body. My fingerprints are everywhere—her hips, her thighs, the curve of her ass reddening from my palm.

She pauses at the bathroom door, glancing back over her shoulder. Her amber eyes hold mine, vulnerable and questioning in their depths.

"Are you coming?" The question is soft, almost shy.

I don't answer with words. I follow her into the bathroom, closing the distance between us. The sound of the shower starts as she reaches in to adjust the temperature, steam already beginning to fill the space.

She steps under the spray, water falling down her body, following the curves I've spent hours memorizing with my hands and mouth. I join her, crowding her against the tile wall as the hot water beats down on us both.

CHAPTER 30

The morning sun filters through the curtains as I check my watch for the third time. Four-fifteen. I slip my Glock into its holster and secure it against my side, the weight familiar and reassuring.

Melania sits on the edge of the bed, already dressed in the clothes Ginerva brought her yesterday.

"Ready?" I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut.

She nods, standing up with that perfect grace that speaks of years of etiquette training. "As I'll ever be."

I lead her through the corridors of the Feretti mansion. The house is quiet this early, most of the staff not yet stirring. Wemake our way to Damiano's office, where a sliver of light beneath the door tells me he's already inside.

I knock twice before entering. Damiano sits behind his desk, his appearance uncharacteristically disheveled. Dark circles shadow his eyes and his usually immaculate hair shows signs of restless fingers running through it repeatedly.

"You look like shit," I say bluntly, closing the door behind Melania.

Damiano's mouth quirks in a humorless smile. "Good morning to you too."

"Couldn't sleep?" I move toward the desk while Melania hangs back slightly, her presence quiet but attentive.

"No." Damiano rubs a hand over his face, the gold of his wedding band catching the light. "First time Zoe and I have been apart. Feels wrong."

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