Compromising Positions

her that Mina moaned under the onslaught. “Maybe I should stop. Maybe you want to leave. Go back to Miami.” Each sentence was punctuated with a slow thrust of his hips, his cock so deep she couldn’t imagine the emptiness she’d feel if he stopped.

Her eyes opened and she searched for his, trying to focus on him through her pleasure induced haze. Golden light streamed across the bed, but it cast Marco’s face into shadow, and she shivered under him. Sometimes it was hard for her to forget how dangerous he was-to her life and her heart-but it was rarely this close to the surface. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Marco watched her, his movements slowing to a cruel crawl. His possession was just as thorough, but the pace felt like a careful insult.

“Imagine my surprise this afternoon,” he said, eyes burning in the darkness, “when my brother,” he pushed even deeper, “took me to task for not attending to… your… needs.”

Mina tried to follow the conversation, but it was hard to separate thought from sensation. His brother? Giovanni?

“I don’t understand.” Mina licked dry lips and tried to concentrate. “What does Giovanni have to do with anything?”

The moment she said Giovanni, Marco’s control snapped. The careful pace he’d set was blown away as whatever devil was driving him lashed him into a frenzy.

“Exactly,” he said, “what does he have to do with anything?” He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head, pinning them with one huge hand. The other hand found a nipple, tugging and tweaking it until it was an angry rose. Each movement sent a current through her until she was arching up off the bed into him, her body bowed in pleasure.

“You’re mine, Mina,” he growled as he pulled her forward, his breath hot in her ear. “Your needs are my concern, no one else’s-not Ethan’s and certainly not Giovanni’s.”

Possessiveness and anger laced the words, and understanding crashed through Mina like lightning. My God!He’s jealous! But the thought barely had time to register before she found herself swept up in Marco’s arms. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, arms wrapped around her tightly as he raised their joined bodies, kneeling beneath her, his cock buried as deeply as possible inside her. He covered her in biting kisses, from her lips to her nipples, never releasing his grip.

“Tell me,” he demanded, her nipple slipping from his mouth with a wet pop, “tell me that you belong to me, only me, Mina mia.”

An insistent finger found the spot where their bodies were joined and she whimpered as he pressed on the little knob of nerves there. Mina felt the callous on his finger rubbing against her sensitive skin, each rasp pushing her higher until she felt she must throw herself out into space or plunge into the abyss.

A tiny voice in her head wailed that it wasn’t fair, that he was using the responses of her body to force an answer, but it was drowned by a chorus of “yes, yours, please, please, please.” She knew she needed him, and now she knew he needed her-even if just for a moment. It was enough.

She leaned into his embrace, wrapping her legs around his hips, snugging herself even more tightly against him. Her heels caught in the expensive duvet and she groaned as he continued to rub her clit with the hand she’d trapped between them.

Resting her forehead against his she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. The anger that had flared there so recently was gone; Mina hoped it was gone for good.

“I don’t want you to stop.” She shifted, rolling her hips a little to show him what she wanted. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want Miami, or Ethan, or Gio-fucking-vanni.” She let her own anger move her as she gripped his shoulders and levered herself against him, rising and falling on his still rigid cock.

“All I want,” she forced the words out even ask she felt her orgasm bearing down on her like a freight train, “is you.”

Marco’s hands were on her ass, guiding her up and down in the motion they both needed. Mina’s fingers left bloody little half-moons where her nails dug into his shoulders but Marco continued to fuck her through the tight- fisted sucking of her cunt around him, stroking into her relentlessly until she keened through a second orgasm.

Her orgasm pulled him over the edge with her. He flipped them over and pounded into her, his rhythm becoming more and more erratic as he approached his own climax. Words spilled from his lips, a jumble where “mine” was the only word Mina could recognize in a litany of Italian, as Marco came deep inside her, his body throbbing and jerking in release.

Heavy in completion, he pinned her to the bed and Mina stroked a shaking hand down his back as they caught their breath. She looked down at the back of the dark head lying on her breasts and knew that nothing was ever going to be the same.

“I am sorry.” Marco’s voice was muffled against her skin and she sighed.

“You should be.” There wasn’t any venom in her voice, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. She’d done nothing to make him think she was paying attention to anyone but him. Hell, she’d put up with his mother, and with the male chauvinist dominated Italian culture without complaining-he shouldn’t doubt her so easily.

Marco pulled back, his eyes taking in her body as it lay before him. Her legs were still splayed wide, their mixed fluids smeared across them. Her breasts were pink, rasped raw by the faint stubble on his cheeks, but her eyes were bright and full of questions, but free of accusations.

He was a lucky man.

“Are you going to explain what that was all about?” Mina pulled herself gingerly to the edge of the bed trying to make sure she didn’t trip herself by getting tangled in the bedclothes. She stood on unsteady legs, grimacing as wetness dripped down her legs. “I need another shower.”

Marco stood quickly, holding her tightly against him. “No.” He kissed the line of her shoulder, before turning her face and dropping a tender kiss on her lips. “I love seeing you like this. Seeing the evidence of our lovemaking on your body.” His eyes darkened again as he dragged a hand up from her hip, sliding up her side, cupping her still swollen breast. “Stay like this.” He kissed her more intently. “For me. Please.”

The “please” was her undoing. She shook her head, disconcerted by both his demand and at her impulse to comply.

“I have to clean up a little,” she said finally, only willing to go so far to fulfill Marco’s need to mark his territory. “I’m not going to make a spectacle of myself in front of everyone tonight.” Especially your mother, she thought with a mental eyeroll.

Unembarrassed by his nakedness, Marco led her through to the en suite bath and leaned her gently against the vanity. Standing there silently, Mina watched as he wet a cloth with warm water and wrung it out before lifting her leg and rubbing it along her skin, wiping away the most noticeable evidence of their lovemaking. She watched the muscles flex and move under his skin, his naked body a thing of beauty, and she wondered at her own lack of embarrassment as he washed the traces of his come from her thighs.

“No one else will know,” he said, his voice so low it was hard for her to catch it. “But every time I see you dance with another man, I’ll know that your pussy is still filled with my come, and every time you feel the wetness you’ll remember that no one makes you feel the way I do. No one.” A final swipe of the now cool cloth against her still swollen labia sent a new round of shudders through her and Marco smiled at her response.

“So beautiful. So responsive.” He pulled her into his arms and she melted against him, her nipples hard against his bare chest, her breathing staccato in the quiet room. “And all mine.”

There was no point in arguing. “Yes. All yours.”

Marco swept her up into his arms and carried her back to the long mirror. Efficient movements had him dressed in moments before he turned to help her into her dress. Her underwear were past salvaging and when she opened a drawer to pull out a new pair Marco stopped her.

“You won’t need them,” he said. Kneeling beside her he carefully lifted one high-heeled foot slipping her dress over it, followed by the other. A shake and twist and she was covered again, the collar hooks fixed and her hair smoothed, her dress surprisingly undamaged by their abuse of it. She looked at herself in the long mirror, sensory overload making her feel slightly dazed. Her earlier concern about her exposed back now seemed ridiculous. She was naked except for a layer of cobalt silk, her nipples hard, her pussy soaked-who was going to care about a her bare back?