Alessio didn't rush.
Didn't give her what she wanted.
Because she didn't even know what she wanted yet.
Not really.
Not the way he did.
So he took his time.
Kept her waiting.
Let her feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her.
Let her feel him without truly having him.
Because this wasn't just about possession.
It was about control.
His control.
Over her body.
Over her mind.
Over every desperate, trembling breath she took.
She had spent so long fighting him.
So long pretending she could resist.
But now, there was nothing left between them except the truth.
She was his.
And he was going to make sure she never forgot it.
Nowhere to Run
His fingers traced along her throat, down her collarbone, before ghosting lower—so slow it was excruciating.
Elena's breath shuddered.
Her muscles tensed.
Not in resistance.
But in something far more dangerous.
Something she couldn't fight.
She clenched her fists at her sides, trying not to react.
But Alessio saw.
Of course he saw.
Because he always saw.
And he knew exactly what to do to keep her right there.
Right on the edge.
His touch was light.
Too light.
Not enough to satisfy.
Just enough to tease.
To taunt.
To remind her that he was in control.
That he decided when she got what she wanted.
If she got it at all.
His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his voice dark, smooth.
"You still think you can fight me, Elena?"
A sharp, aching pulse shot through her.
Because they both knew the answer.
But he wasn't going to let her hide from it.
Not anymore.
He moved lower, his fingers tracing—then stopping.
Waiting.
Holding her there.
Just close enough to make her ache.
But never enough.
Her breath came faster now.
Her body tight, trembling.
And still, he waited.
Until she broke first.
Until she did exactly what he wanted.
Until she whispered—
"Please."
A slow, wicked smirk curled at his lips.
But he still didn't give in.
Because she had to earn it.
Because this wasn't just about surrender.
It was about obedience.
And Alessio?
He always got what he wanted.