Chapter 68: How to Get Your Soul Sucked Out by Your Kidnapper-Husband (18+)

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"What....what are you doing?!" I panicked, "Get o–off you, fucker!"

Overwhelmed and burning, I tried to push at his face, my hands finding his shoulders in a weak attempt to create some space, but Lorenzo didn’t budge.

For fuck’s sakes it was like pushing against a brick wall!

"Still trying to push me away with those weak hands... keep doing it. I like feeling how little fight you have left." He murmured, kissing the tip of my cock.

If anything, he only dove down and sucked harder, the pressure intensifying until my head tipped back against the wall behind the bench, fingers curling uselessly in the air for a moment before finally sinking into his wet hair...

Not to shove him away, but because I needed something solid to hold onto while everything else inside of me fell apart.

Oh, fantastic, my sarcastic inner voice supplied weakly.

Now you’re petting the mafia don’s hair while he ruins you on a stone bench.

Very classy. Your ancestors are weeping.

He kept one hand braced on my hip, firm and inescapable without being rough, pinning me in place so that every instinctive twist of my body only pushed me deeper into the heat of his mouth. His gaze never wavered.

Those emerald eyes stayed locked on mine throughout, calm and intent, cataloging every flicker of expression as if he were logging the exact moment each remaining piece of resistance fell away.

I couldn’t help but let out a shameless moan that I WILL be denying tomorrow, "Stop looking at me like that while your mouth is—fuck—doing that."

The slow pace he set was torturous, long, thorough pulls that made me feel every inch of wet heat enveloping me, followed by quick moments where he pulled off just enough to speak against my slick skin.

"This is just the beginning," he murmured, his voice roughened by the act. "I will have you in every way I want to eventually. Running won’t save you from being known like this...not anymore."

Then he took me deeper again, and whatever sarcastic retort I’d been trying to form—

"Is this the part where I’m supposed to thank you?"

The words died the second the wet pressure closed around me once more.

My usual defenses crumbled into broken sounds and half-formed protests that no longer meant much.

The psychological weight of it pressed heavier than the physical pleasure: the feared Don on his knees, not submitting but claiming, using his mouth to reshape the space between us until there was no room left for the careful distance I’d worked so hard to maintain.

He continued with that same quiet intensity, occasionally glancing up to catch my expression or pulling away just long enough to drag his tongue along the most sensitive spots while his hand on my hip kept me grounded.

The steam from the pool lingered in the air, but the cooler temperature of the room made every shift of his mouth feel sharper, more intentional.

"See? I told you so," he said softly when a particularly deep pull finally wrung a desperate sound from me that I couldn’t disguise as anything but need. "You love me too, don’t you? Say it, Caro...I won’t judge."

The words felt almost tender, and somehow that made everything feel even more absolute.

The nerve of him!

"FUCK OFF! O...oh my–ahh!" I gasped helplessly...then I managed a strangled, "You’re enjoying this way too much," between gasps.

His only response was a low, satisfied hum that vibrated through me.

The second climax built more slowly than the first, but hit harder because of it...pleasure coiling tightly and then breaking in a long, shuddering wave that pulled a broken version of his name from my throat before I could stop it.

He swallowed every last drop of my cum desperately like it was some sort of rare holy nectar.

"Better than I ever imagined." He whispered as he moaned at the taste of my cum, "You taste divine, my love. I could stay on my knees all night and still not get enough of the way you shake for me. I can’t help but wonder just how heavenly the rest of you will taste."

I flushed so hard at his words, there was no way...he had thought about doing this to me!

Just how was it even possible for him to have hidden these feelings for me so flawlessly while I was failing so hard to hide mine?!

Lorenzo stayed between my legs through every aftershock, his mouth continuing to work my cock through the intensity until the last tremor faded.

Even then, he didn’t pull away right away. He lingered for a moment, mouthing lazily at the oversensitive skin while a small, satisfied smile curved his lips as he looked up at the wrecked expression I couldn’t seem to wipe from my face.

Only when he was ready did he rise, standing tall over me while I sat there on the bench, still wet, marked from earlier, lips parted and eyes dazed, completely unable to form a single cutting remark.

The balance between us had shifted in a way that felt permanent, and he seemed to know it.

His gaze swept over me with quiet possession, taking in every detail of the picture I made.

Finally, when he spoke, his words were low and final, a statement rather than a question.

"You are mine now in a way you cannot take back," he said, calm and unwavering. "And I am nowhere near finished showing you what that means...but I suppose I should hold back for now. I wouldn’t want to break my sweet husband so soon."

I sat there, breathing hard, the cool air raising another shiver across my damp skin, and for once, I had nothing left to throw between us.

"You did this to me, tesoro." He spoke, his darkened eyes piercing right right in to the depths of me. "You made me feel these feelings and emotions I never even thought possible. Don’t you think you should take responsibility for that?"

The weight of what had just happened settled around us like a new kind of gravity, and Lorenzo stood over me, already deciding what would come next, eyes dark with a focus that made it clear the claiming had only just begun.

Very romantic, extremely unhinged...perfectly on-brand for my entire life.

"I love you, Alex."