ELENA
The car was silent, apart from the low hum of the engine as we sped through the streets of Milan.
City lights flickered past in a blur, but I barely noticed them. My pulse was still unsteady, my hands clasped together on my lap as I stared out the window.
I should have said no.
I should have walked away, but I didn’t. So here I am in the back seat of a luxurious car with a man I barely know.
Alessia would freak out if she knew what I was doing. My sister had always been over protective of me.
I brought out my phone and sent a quick text to Sofia.
“You guys should go home without me, I left already.”
Then I pocketed my phone and looked back out the window, the silence in the car stretching longer than I care to admit.
I stole a quick glance at the man beside me. His presence was intense, unmoving. He was focused on his phone, oblivious to the emotional turmoil I was going through.
The ride felt painfully long, so I closed my eyes trying to steady my nerves.
“You know you can leave if you want to,” he said, cutting the silence.
I turned and looked at him, his gaze sharp, calculating.
He was right.
I could ask the driver to stop. I could step out and pretend this night never happened. But I didn’t.
Because deep down… I didn’t want to.
The car slowed to a stop in front of a sleek, towering building. A doorman opened my door, and before I could think, he was beside me, his hand lightly pressing against the small of my back as he guided me inside.
The Penthouse was exactly what I expected. Immaculate. Luxurious. cold. just like him.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city, the skyline glittering under the night sky.
He moved past me, letting me in first, and shut the door.
At the bar in the corner, he slipped off his suit jacket, removed his cufflinks, and poured himself a drink.
“Want one?”
“No, I am fine.”
“Drink,” he said, extending a glass to me.
Why ask if he was going to insist anyway?.
I hesitated before stepping forward and accepting it.
Unbuttoning my jacket, I shrugged it off and dropped it on the sofa before sitting down.
He watched me with the most intense look in his eyes.
The silence stretched between us as we sipped our drinks.
“Your place is fine,” I offered, trying to ease the tension.
No response.
The embarrassment flushed on my cheeks.
Then, without warning, he reached for me.
The glass nearly slipped from my hand as his fingers brushed my cheek, gentle, yet firm. My breath caught as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
I should have pulled away.
But instead, I leaned in.
His lips met mine, and the world tilted.
The kiss was slow at first, teasing, testing. But then his hand slipped into my hair, gripping, and a soft, desperate sound escaped me, one I didn’t even recognize as mine.
That was all it took.
My hands moved to his shirt, fumbling for the buttons, but he stopped me.
“You don’t touch me until I say so.”
“Why.”
“Because I said so.”
Before I could respond, his lips crashed back onto mine. Fast, needy like he couldn’t get enough. He pulled me onto his laps, and every last shred of restraint I had snapped.
I kissed him back with everything I had, like my life depended on it.
His hands roamed, tugging at my clothes, owing every inch of me.
Before I could think, he was leading me down the hall, his movements sure, deliberate.
The door to his bedroom swung open.
Then he was pressing me against it, lips trailing down my neck, his hands igniting fire everywhere they touched.
“Take it off,” he ordered.
I stood, reached for my blouse, and took it off.
Then I unbuttoned my pants, his eyes never leaving mine.
I stood in front of him in nothing but my bra and panties, the heat of his stare burning my skin.
“Everything.”
My breath hitched.
I’d never done this before, standing bare in front of someone, let alone a stranger.
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
Fingers trembling, I tugged at my bra strap and let it fall. My breasts spilled free and his breath caught.
“Fuck,” he muttered, jaw clenched.
Slowly, I reached for my panties and slid them down.
Stepping out of them, I stared at him, his eyes darkened with lust as he ate me up with his gaze.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I flushed, instinctively covering myself with my hands.
“Don’t. I’m not done staring at you.”
He grabbed my wrists and pulled me close, my naked body pressing against his tailored suit. The contrast made me feel even more bare.
“I want to touch you,” I whispered, reaching for his shirt again.
“Easy, princess. I don’t like to rush.”
He stepped back. “On the bed. Now.”
I obeyed.
“Spread your legs for me, I want a taste.”
I did.
His fingers brushed over my clit, and a whimper escaped my lips.
His touch was slow, deliberate. until he slammed a finger inside me.
I gasped.
Then another finger.
“Fuck! you’re so tight.”
He replaced his fingers with his mouth, and my body trembled as my orgasm built.
His tongue swirled around my clit, devouring me like he’d been starving.
Every flick, every stroke sent shivers through my spine.
He thrust his tongue inside me, and I shattered with a cry.