Page 41 of The Assassin's Captive
"Yes, we can." I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him hard against me. "I need this. I need you."
His control snaps. He carries me into the shower, the hot water cascading over us as he presses me against the tile wall.
The second the shower door closes behind us, he slams me against the tile. My spine hits cold stone, but the water’s already scalding, soaking through my clothes. His hands are on my waist, then under my blouse, shoving it up over my ribs and dragging it off in one rough pull.
“You don’t even hesitate,” I murmur, breath catching as steam curls around us.
“I’ve been hesitating for days,” he grits out. “You think this is how I planned it?”
He fists the center of my bra, yanks it down until the cups tear sideways, then ducks his head and bites the top of my breast. My hand flies to his hair, fingers tightening, nails scraping his scalp.
His mouth drags lower, over the swell of my breast. He bites hard enough to leave a mark, then licks over it like he’s sealing something in place. The steam wraps around us, but I can’t tell what’s heat and what’s him.
“You’re shaking,” he says against my skin, breathing hot and uneven.
“Because I'm terrified of what the actual fuck I’m doing,” I answer. “But I don't want you to stop.”
His hand moves between us, slipping beneath the soaked waistband of my slacks. The fabric clings, but he forces his way past it. His fingers slide through the slick heat between my thighs and pause, like he needs confirmation.
“Serena.”
“Don’t stop,” I say, gripping the back of his neck. “Don’t start thinking. Just do it.”
He doesn’t speak again. He yanks the button open, drags the zipper down with a grunt, and pulls my pants all the way to my ankles. My panties go with them, shredded aside with one rough pull.
He catches me under my thighs and lifts me again, this time with no hesitation. My back hits the wall, and he braces me there, the pressure of his body holding me in place.
I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders as he shifts his hips. His cock presses against me, thick and ready. The second he thrusts inside, the breath leaves my lungs. The pain is sharp at first, edged with pressure, but it fades fast under the weight of everything else.
“God,” I whisper, the word barely audible over the rush of water. “You don’t hold back.”
He doesn’t answer. His mouth finds my throat again, teeth scraping along my pulse as he starts to move. Every thrust slams me against the tile, the rhythm punishing and exact.
“You want soft?” he mutters into my skin. “You picked the wrong man.”
“I didn’t ask for soft.” My fingers dig into his shoulders.
He drives in harder, faster, both hands locked around my hips now, holding me in place like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his grip.
His chest slides against mine with every motion, slick with heat and sweat and steam, but there’s nothing tender about the way he moves. He buries himself deep and pulls back only far enough to do it again, each thrust dragging a raw sound from my throat.
“Christ.” He thrusts once more and stills, forehead pressed to mine. “You’re going to ruin me.”
The pressure builds fast. My legs tighten around his waist as he drives into me with unbroken force, his grip locked under my thigh, his other hand braced beside my head. His chest crushes against mine, wet skin sliding, muscles strained. I hold on, fingers dug into his shoulders, barely breathing as the edge closes in.
Release tears through me without permission. My body clenches around him, every nerve pulled tight until it breaks. I bury my face against his neck and let it take me. He doesn’t slow. He keeps moving through it, hips grinding deeper, the rhythm rougher now, less controlled
“Fuck,” he grits out. His jaw tenses against my shoulder. “You feel so goddamn good.”
I claw at his back, nails scraping over the curve of his spine as he slams into me, pace frenzied now, every motion driven by raw need. He’s so deep I can’t think, can’t breathe—only feel.
“Lorenzo—” My voice breaks on his name, and that’s all it takes.
He growls, a vicious, broken sound as his hips jerk once, twice, then he buries himself deep and begins to slow. His entire body shudders against mine as he comes, chest heaving, fingers digging into my thighs like he needs to anchor himself.
For a second, the only sound is the water crashing around us, the air thick with steam. Then his forehead drops to my shoulder and neither of us moves. His breathing is harsh in my ear, and my hands slowly unclench from his back.
"He'll really hurt you for wanting me?" I ask him, with a new plan already formulating in my mind.
