Luca POV The drive back home was torture. Silence stretched thick and suffocating, but inside me it was anything, but quiet . Rage roared, sharp and violent, coiling with a hunger I couldn't take. My hands gripped the wheel so tightly my knuckles ached, but it was the only thing keeping me from reaching across the seat and taking what was already mine. She sat beside me, arms wrapped around herself, I said nothing, words would have been useless. I needed to get her home,away from curious eyes, away from anyone who dared to imagine they had the right to look at her the way that bastard did. When we got to the garage,I killed the engine, stepped out and open her door. My hands closed around her,firm and unrelenting. I did not give her the chance to refuse. She followed silent but I could feel the tremor in her hand. We stepped into the elevator, while she bristled with anger at my treatment of her but remained silent. The door to the penthouse opened. Valentina was waiting at the e
My words only seemed to ignite him further. Luca’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking violently as he stalked closer. His voice dropped even lower, colder, every syllable laced with venom. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Yasmine. I saw the way you looked at him. Sitting there, smiling, sipping your coffee like you wanted to entertain him.” “That’s not true!” I shot back, my voice cracking under the weight of his accusation. “He came to me. I didn’t do anything—” “Bullshit!” he roared, his hand slamming against the table so hard the espresso cup toppled and shattered on the floor. I flinched, my whole body jerking at the sudden violence. He leaned in close, his breath harsh against my face, eyes black with fury. “You think I don’t know men like Bellandi? You think I don’t know exactly what he wanted from you? Don’t play me for a fool, Yasmine. You don’t get to sit there and act innocent while he puts his fucking eyes on you.” Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I forced
Yasmine POV Luca excused himself to the men’s room, disappearing toward the back of the restaurant. The place was quiet, almost too quiet—just Giuseppe behind the counter and me at my table, the only patron in sight. The soft clink of the entrance bell broke the silence. A man stepped inside, tall and commanding, dressed in a perfectly tailored Armani suit that seemed to carry the weight of old money and power. His polished shoes barely made a sound against the tiled floor. He greeted Giuseppe warmly in rapid Italian, their exchange too fast for me to catch every word, but I noticed Giuseppe’s eyes flick nervously in my direction more than once. A moment later, the stranger crossed the room with effortless confidence, stopping at my table. “Ciao, Signorina Fernandez?” The sound of my name startled me. My fingers froze around the small porcelain cup, the steam from my espresso curling between us. I lowered it slowly, meeting his gaze. “Ciao,” I answered cautiously. “Do I k
The Ponte Vecchio stretched across the river, dotted with tiny shops that looked as though they had sprouted from the bridge itself. Inside the jewelers’ windows, gold gleamed like captured sunlight, winking at passersby. Yasmine slipped her little digital camera from her bag, snapping picture after picture, her smile soft with wonder.They lingered as the day stretched toward evening. She paused often, admiring paintings by street artists—raw, vibrant pieces that carried Florence in every stroke. She bought a few, and Luca promised his men would have them delivered safely to the penthouse.All through their walk, Luca played the guide, pointing out historic landmarks and weaving stories of their origins. By the time they reached a little Italian trattoria tucked away on a quiet street, Yasmine’s heart was brimming with the charm of the city.The owners, an elderly couple—Giuseppe and Luisa—welcomed Luca warmly, as though he were family. Respect shone in their eyes, and Yasmine notice
Holding a hand over her hip, he ground against her, wreaking havoc on her insides. She groans as she grinds against him in response. "Tell me you are mine!" he growls against her ear, pinching her nipples. "Fuck!" she yells. Wrapping a hand around her neck, cutting off her air, he starts thrusting faster, assaulting her with a cascade of sensations. She screams and yells for him to let her cum, but he is not having it, withholding her orgasm till she begs for mercy. "Say it!" he snarls, the voice rough to her ears, and she gives in. Sobbing, "Yes, yes I am yours," she screams. And he presses her face into the bed and starts driving into her; it hurts, but she craves every bit of pleasure and pain. His fingers strum against her clit, coercing several orgasms from her till she trembles, her stomach spasms from the force of her release. He fucks her through her orgasm and finally, after several thrusts, stills against her.He pulled out of her and carried her in his arms to the bathroom.
Yasmine POV After a while, we lay on the bed with my back to his chest as he lazily thrust inside me. He kissed me deeply, our tongues dueling as he stroked my clit with a hand, wringing another orgasm from me as I clenched around his cock while gasping in torturous pleasure. “Fuck!” I groaned as his thrusts quickened and he emptied himself within me. “Good morning,” he murmured against my ear, and I closed my eyes, my mind still reeling from the experience as he leisurely placed his hand on my hip. “Morning,” I replied, and he smiled in satisfaction. My heart skipped a beat at the earth-shattering grin on his face. Fuck me… The man looks hot and he knows it. An unruly curl lay against his forehead, giving him a rakish look. “Excuse me?” I said and moved to get out of bed, but he beat me to it, grabbing my arm. “What?” I asked in an annoyed voice. “I want to see something,” he said and spread my thighs obscenely, and heat rose along my neck and face. "You look so full