The villa had grown darker by the hour—candles flickering low, fire crackling in the hearth, shadows thickening like the anticipation between them.
Sienna sat at the edge of the massive bed, skin bare, hair wild from his hands, her breathing shallow with need she hadn't dared to voice.
She wasn't just wet.
She was soaked.
Dripping.
From the way he looked at her. From the way his voice had gone deeper since sundown, each word an unspoken promise. From the way she could feel the energy humming through him like a current waiting to be unleashed.
And now, she waited.
Luca stood in front of her, fully dressed in black—tailored shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled to the forearms, barefoot, holding a thin strip of deep burgundy silk.
"Tonight," he said, his voice low, "you don't get to think. You don't get to move unless I tell you. You exist to feel. To serve pleasure—yours and mine."
Her breath caught.
"I want you to say it, Sienna."
"I exist to feel. And serve."
His smile was slow and devastating. "Good girl."
He came closer, taking the silk and tying it gently over her eyes.
Darkness fell.
But she could smell him—leather, salt, heat. She could hear the whisper of his breath. And when his fingers grazed her lips, she nearly moaned from just that.
"Open."
She parted her lips, and he slid two of his fingers inside—slow, sensual.
"Suck."
She did. Obedient. Warm tongue curling around them, sucking gently, tasting his skin. He groaned low, and she felt his arousal thicken the air between them.
When he pulled his fingers free, he trailed them down her chin, her throat, her collarbone. Then lower—between her breasts, over her belly, pausing just above her mound.
"You're already wet, aren't you?" he murmured.
"Yes," she breathed.
He kissed her neck, then her shoulder, trailing his tongue slowly across her clavicle.
Then he pushed her gently down onto the bed, guiding her to lie flat.
"Legs spread."
She obeyed.
He took his time.
His mouth made love to her body. He kissed her toes. Her ankles. Nibbled her inner thighs until she squirmed. Then he straddled her chest, running the tip of his cock across her lips—but didn't let her taste him yet.
"I want you hungry for it."
He moved down again, spreading her with his thumbs, exhaling warm breath against her soaked folds.
But he didn't lick her.
Not yet.
He kissed the inside of her thigh again. Then the other. Then up her mound, brushing so close her body twitched.
"You're shaking," he whispered, breath hot against her entrance.
"I want it," she gasped.
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm going to take my time."
And then—
He began.
Slow licks. Deep strokes of his tongue. He didn't just eat her—he savored her. Like she was the only flavor that ever mattered.
One hand slipped under her ass, tilting her up for better access, while the other slid over her breast, toying with her nipple, pinching it gently as he licked and sucked and worshipped.
Her moans rose in pitch.
Her hands clawed at the sheets.
"Stay still," he warned.
She tried.
She tried.
But when he pushed two fingers inside her while sucking her clit, she arched off the bed.
He pulled back instantly.
"No coming," he said. "Not until I allow it."
"Luca—please—"
His fingers stayed inside her, curling, coaxing, teasing.
"Do you trust me to give you more pleasure than you've ever taken for yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then obey."
She clenched her fists, holding back her climax with everything she had.
He whispered in her ear as he fingered her slowly. "You've been such a good girl. Do you know what good girls get?"
Her breath hitched. "What?"
"My cock."
He removed his fingers, climbed over her again, and finally—finally—thrust inside her, slow and deep.
Sienna cried out.
He fucked her with a rhythm that seduced more than it demanded—rolling his hips, grinding his pelvis against hers to keep her right on the edge, kissing her lips, her neck, her soul.
"Come for me now," he groaned. "Give me everything."
She came like a wave breaking—violent, wet, sobbing.
Her whole body shook as he kept thrusting, harder now, chasing his own release. When he spilled inside her, he wrapped both arms around her and held her tight—mouth pressed to her neck, voice hoarse and full of reverence.
"You're mine, Sienna."
And this time, she didn't fight it.
She whispered back: "Yes. I'm yours."