In love with this man

The driver stopped in front of the door and we came down from the car. 

My heart was beating really fast, the moment we entered into the house, without warning, Marco’s rough hands closed around my hips, his grip was firm as he drew me to himself. 

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as I felt the solid length of him pressing against me. I remembered his promise in the car, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it, but my body didn’t care.

"You're mine now," he whispered against my ear, the words sent a jolt through me, lighting up something dark and needy in my core. As I felt the wetness pool in between my legs. 

He didn’t hesitate, his lips crashed into mine, and the kiss was raw, all hunger and dominance. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, claiming, tasting, owning. 

A needy sound escaped me, part moan, part whimper. I clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his suit. I could taste the faint bitterness of whiskey on his tongue, feel the wild urgency in every move he made.

This kiss felt nothing like Jake's, Marco's hands caressed my body, roughly and demanding. They slid under my shirt and yanked at the fabric, tearing it without a second thought. I gasped again as cool air met my bare skin. 

His hands found my breasts and he squeezed it tightly, I moaned into his mouth. 

In one smooth motion, Marco lifted me. His arms locked around my waist, strong and sure, and he carried me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around him on instinct, clinging tight, my heels pressing into the hard muscle of his back. He pushed me up against the nearest wall, pinning me in place with his body.

I could feel his cock grinding against the center of my pussy. Fuck, the thought alone made my pussy clench and I anticipated. 

"Fuck, you’re perfect," he muttered, dragging his lips down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. I shivered, the sensation making my toes curl.

His fingers found the waistband of my jeans and yanked them down roughly. My underwear went with it. There was no patience in him, only need. Mine matched his.

Then, without warning, he thrust deep into my pussy. I cried out as I swung my head backwards. His cock filled me, completely. I clenched around him, breathless.

"Fuck, you’re tight," he cursed against my neck, voice rough with restraint.

His hips began to move, each thrust rocked through me, the wall behind my back rattling with the force. I held onto him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

"Beg for it," he snarled, his breath against my cheek.

I opened my eyes, met his. The raw need in his gaze stole my voice. Still, I forced the words out, breathless.

"Please... more," I gasped. "I need more."

He grunted, satisfied. His grip tightened, he slammed into me harder. My body was already trembling, the pressure building fast. Each thrust went deeper than the last as my back slammed against the wall. 

"Say it," he growled, lips brushing mine. "Say you're mine."

"I’m yours," I whispered, helpless.

He let out a sound that wasn’t human, a deep growl that rumbled through his chest and into mine. His rhythm turned punishing, and I cried out with every thrust, the edge creeping closer, higher.

"Marco," I whimpered. "I’m close. So close."

He pulled my hair, angling my head back to expose my throat, still fucking me hard, fast, deep.

"Not yet," he hissed. "Not until I say."

Why did he always have to do this, I thought as the pressure inside me was becoming unbearable. I dug my nails into his shoulders, desperate, trembling, pleading with my body to hold on. 

Then finally, "Now," he growled. "Cum for me, Emily."

And I did, my world shattered.

The climax ripped through me, fierce and blinding. I cried out, my body convulsing around him, milking him, clinging to him. He groaned, his body stiffening. Then with one final thrust, he spilled inside me, hot and thick, a low growl tearing from his throat as he pushed his cock deeper. 

We stayed like that, breathless and tangled. His head rested on my shoulder, his arms around me like he couldn’t let go. Slowly, his fingers relaxed in my hair. He pulled back just enough to look at me.

"You’re something else, Emily," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.

I looked into his eyes and, for once, didn’t see the dangerous, untouchable mafia lord. I saw the man. Just the man.

And that scared me more than anything, because I was beginning to fall in love with this man.