Chapter 8: Penthouse Aftermath

Chapter 8: Penthouse Aftermath

Alessio’s POV

The elevator ride up was silent, but the air between us crackled like it was about to ignite.

Luca stood rigid beside me, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the numbers ticking higher. His hand still circled my wrist—not tight, but firm enough that I felt every pulse of his restraint. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with club smoke, and underneath it, the heat of him. Anger. Want. The same cocktail that had me trembling earlier on that balcony.

The doors slid open. He pulled me inside the penthouse without a word, kicking the door shut behind us. The city lights spilled through the windows, painting long shadows across the marble floor.

I didn’t wait for him to speak.

I turned, pressing my back to the wall, chin up. “So. You dragged me out of there like a caveman because some guy smiled at me?”

Luca’s eyes darkened. He stepped closer, crowding me without touching. “He touched you.”

“His hand was on my arm for two seconds.”

“Two seconds too long.”

I laughed—low, breathy. “Jealousy looks good on you, Rossi. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He moved then—fast. One hand braced above my head, the other sliding to my throat, thumb pressing just under my jaw. Not choking. Just holding. Claiming.

“You like this,” he said, voice rough. “Pushing me until I snap.”

My pulse jumped under his fingers. “Maybe I do.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower—to the mark he’d left last night, still dark against my skin. “You’re mine, Alessio. Every laugh. Every look. Every fucking breath when you’re in a room full of people who want what’s mine.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach. I hated how easily he unraveled me. Hated it and loved it.

“Then do something about it,” I challenged.

Luca’s hand tightened fractionally. “Be careful what you ask for.”

I leaned into his grip instead of away. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you to prove it.”

Something shifted in his eyes—anger giving way to raw hunger.

He kissed me then—harder than on the balcony, all teeth and possession. I kissed back just as fiercely, hands shoving under his shirt, nails dragging down his back. He growled into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing ragged.

“Bedroom,” he ordered.

I smirked. “Make me.”

He didn’t hesitate. One arm hooked under my thighs, lifting me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct as he carried me down the hall, kicking the master door open.

He dropped me onto the bed—rough, but careful enough not to hurt. Then he was over me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, the other sliding down my chest, popping buttons as he went.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “Already hard for me. So fucking eager.”

I arched up, chasing friction. “Luca—”

“Shh.” His mouth found my neck, sucking over the existing mark, renewing it. “You’ve been good tonight. Letting me drag you out. Letting everyone see who you belong to.”

The praise hit like a spark. I shuddered hard, hips bucking involuntarily.

He smiled against my skin—slow, predatory. “That’s it. Good boy. So responsive for me.”

My brain shorted. I moaned—loud, shameless—thighs tightening around him.

Luca pulled back just enough to look at me. “You like when I say that, don’t you?”

I nodded, cheeks burning. Couldn’t lie. Not when he had me like this.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I like it,” I whispered. “Fuck, I love it.”

His eyes flared. “Then be perfect for me tonight. Let me take care of you.”

He released my wrists, sliding down my body. Hands worked my belt, pants shoved down. I was aching, leaking already.

Luca paused, staring. Then he leaned in, breath hot against me. “So beautiful like this. All for me.”

Before I could beg, his mouth closed over me—hot, wet, perfect.

I cried out, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. He took me deeper, tongue swirling, humming around me like he couldn’t get enough. Every stroke was deliberate, every pull slow and torturous.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured between licks. “Taking it so perfectly. My good boy.”

The words undid me. I shattered—hard, fast, vision whiting out as I came down his throat.

Luca didn’t stop until I was trembling, oversensitive, boneless.

He crawled back up, kissing me deep so I could taste myself on his tongue.

When he pulled away, his voice was rough. “Mine.”

I managed a shaky laugh. “Yours.”

But even as the afterglow settled, I knew this wasn’t the end.

It was only getting started.