Alessio didn't move.
Didn't give her what she was asking for.
Because it wasn't enough.
A single whispered please?
That wasn't surrender.
That was hesitation.
A crack, but not a break.
And Alessio?
He wanted the break.
He wanted her to fall so completely that there was nothing left of the girl who had fought him.
Nothing left but his.
So he stayed still.
Watching her.
Waiting.
Letting her sit in it.
In the tension.
In the ache.
In the sharp, undeniable need curling through her veins.
And the longer he made her wait, the deeper it sank into her bones.
Because he had all the time in the world.
But Elena?
She was unraveling.
Falling apart, one slow, agonizing second at a time.
The Breaking Point
Elena's breath was ragged now.
Her body tight.
Strung so high she thought she might snap from the pressure.
She wanted to move.
To take what he wouldn't give her.
But she couldn't.
Because he wouldn't let her.
Not yet.
Not until he had wrung every last drop of defiance from her.
His fingers traced lower, just enough to make her gasp—
Then stopped.
Again.
And Elena wanted to scream.
Because this was cruel.
This was calculated.
And the worst part?
It was working.
Her pride kept her silent at first.
Kept her from begging.
But Alessio knew better.
He always knew better.
So he waited.
Let her struggle against herself.
Let her fight a battle they both knew she would lose.
And then, finally—
When she couldn't take it anymore—
She broke.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
And this time, when she whispered—no, pleaded—
"Please, Alessio… I need you."
It was real.
His smirk was slow.
Satisfied.
Because now?
Now, she was ready.
And Alessio?
He always rewarded obedience.