Page 18 of Power
They drop to my chest, then lower—to where I’m already thick and straining, throbbing like I can feel her stare on me. Her lips part slightly, and her breath catches.
I see the moment it happens—the second she realizes just how badly she wants this.
Color floods her cheeks, creeping down her neck as her hands twitch at her sides. She lets out a soft, shuddering breath. Not defiance. Not resistance. Something closer to surrender. I see it. Feel it.
She keeps moving back, like distance might fix this.
"Take another step back," I murmur, my voice dark with warning, "and I swear to God, I’ll make you get on your knees and suck my dick until I come."
She stops. Her whole body stills, but her chest rises harder, sharper. For a second, I think she’s going to snap—spit something at me and run. But she doesn’t. Her lips part, her throat bobs as she swallows hard.
“Please, Dario…” she whispers. “Don’t make me do this.”
She says it like she’s begging for mercy. But mercy from what? Me? Herself? The months—years—of frustration with a husband that probably only ever took without giving?
Hearing my name on her lips for the first time is torture.
I haven’t felt like this in years—this insane, soul-consuming rush to have someone just from the mere sight of them. My dick hasn’t felt like fucking steel before I actually touched someone. I haven’t participated in anything sexual for so long and actually enjoyed it—or been turned on by the thought of someone's taste and sound.
I’ve fucked women. A lot of women. I’ve never claimed to be a saint when it comes to sex, nor am I a gentleman who offers sentiments and roses. I’m a product of being used and abused, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s my life now; I just need to live it. So fucking sue me if the first woman to make me feel addicted to the feeling of totally unraveling is right here, just out of reach, and I want her.
Sue me for knowing she belongs to another man, but I don’t give two fucks. It feels right, and it fucking annoys me that itdoes. I’ll suffer the consequences later when this all blows up and I find myself unable to stay away from her.
Just having her eyes on me has my chest pounding. It’s different here with her. We aren’t touching, and until today, I haven’t felt this way around her before. Yes, I’ve wondered what it would be like to fuck her, but today, I’m not only thinking of fucking her. I’m only thinking of her eyes and how beautiful she looks watching me. How hard I want to come in her mouth.
Slowly, my hands drop to the head of my cock, massaging the precum glistening at the top. I think I hear her sigh or gasp. Either way, the intimacy of this moment has me aching in more ways than one.
But it’s not just me.
It’s her, too.
She wouldn’t be here, frozen in place, breathing like she’s trying to hold herself together, if she didn’t want this just as much as I do.
Fuck, I want to watch her break.
And she’s still standing there. Still breathing hard. Still staring at me like she’s already lost whatever fight she was waging in her head.
I close the distance between us, measured, unhurried. “Then walk away.”
She doesn’t.
Because she doesn’t want to.
She’s just afraid of what it means if she gives in.
“Watch me touch myself, Vittoria.”
She shakes her head, her eyes momentarily dropping to the floor, but soon they return to my hands wrapped around my cock.
“Hh…how could I possibly do…please just let me go.”
She takes a couple of steps back, her back reaching the door as she grasps the handle without turning.
“Turn that knob, Vittoria, and I swear I’ll fuck your throat so hard you’ll pass out.”
I run my hands up and down my shaft, slowly at first, taking my time, then faster as the sensations begin to hit.
“Dario… please…” she whimpers.
