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Chapter 6: A Dangerous Softness (Continued)
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2025-02-26 22:43:01Marco stared at her for what felt like an eternity. It was as if he were searching for a reason to stop—but he found none. Instead, he found more reasons to continue.
The innocence in her eyes kept pushing him. He had to know if it was just in her gaze or if it was truly a part of her.
Elara was breathtaking. Her curly black hair fell wildly down her back, damp from the shower. Her figure was perfect in its own way.
She wasn’t overly curvy, but everything about her was just the right size—her breasts, her waist, her long legs.
Her brown eyes, deep and filled with resistance, seemed to bore into his soul. He couldn’t stop; he would be crazy to stop.
His grip on her remained firm, pinning her hands above her head. She was powerless in his hold, but that didn’t stop her from fighting. Her legs kicked against the ground.
Yet her gaze remained fixed on him, watching him intently.
She was trying to understand if he truly knew what he was doing, just like he had claimed.
For a fleeting moment, her mind betrayed her.
She wasn’t thinking about escaping.
She was observing him. This was the first time she’d seen his face up close.
The sharp arch of his brows, the striking blue of his eyes, the firm set of his jaw. His thin lips, yet perfectly shaped—looked softer than she had imagined.
This was her definition of a good-looking man. He’s just cuter tonight–maybe that’s what being drunk does.
Was it because he was drunk? Or was this who he truly was beneath the cold, ruthless exterior?
Her thoughts scattered the moment Marco spoke. His voice was low and rough.
“From the first day I met you, I enjoyed the look in your eyes,” he murmured. “It does something to me—something I don’t understand.”
Elara’s stomach twisted.
“Don’t you know what I am to you?” she whispered. “I’m your price… in case you’ve forgotten.”
Her voice wavered, but she had meant every word. The thought of that made her chest tighten.
She was nothing but a debt paid in flesh.
Marco’s gaze darkened.
“You need to st…”
Before she could finish, his lips crashed onto hers.
Elara’s eyes widened in shock.
For a moment, she couldn’t even think. The sensation of his mouth against hers drowned out every other thought.
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. His lips moved against hers, slow but insistent, pulling her into his pace.
She tasted the whiskey on his tongue, the heat of his breath mixing with hers. His kiss was deep, teasing, overwhelming.
He tightened his grip on her wrists, keeping her in place, his body pressed against hers.
She whimpered and kicked her feet, but he didn’t stop.
And the worst part?
A traitorous part of her body didn’t want him to.
Her feet faltered, and her struggle grew weaker.
No! her thoughts screamed.
No, she couldn’t let herself fall into this.
But her body had other plans.
Heat curled in her stomach, accompanied by an unfamiliar sensation tightening around her chest.
It wasn’t fear anymore. It was something far more dangerous.
Pleasure.
Her breath came faster. She tried to fight it, but she just couldn’t. A soft moan slipped past her lips instead.
She wanted to deny it. Wanted to pretend she hadn’t just made that sound.
But Marco had heard it.
And he was no fool. He knew the difference between gasping for air and genuinely enjoying the feeling.
His lips left hers, and he pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet.
Elara’s gaze was still uncertain.
Marco’s lips curled slightly to the side in a knowing smirk.
She had enjoyed it.
And he knew it.
Before she could gather her thoughts, he dipped his head to her shoulder. His warm breath fanned against her ear.
“Stai godendo di questo, non è vero, dolcezza?” (You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, sweetheart?) he whispered in Italian.
Elara shivered.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her chest rose and fell with ragged, shaky breaths, and her fingers twitched involuntarily.
She wasn’t fighting anymore.
Nor was she scared.
Her fear had been replaced.
Marco’s touches were gentle yet firm. His lips were sweet yet tormenting.
His mouth found the curve of her neck, his tongue trailing along her skin in a slow, deliberate motion.
Elara’s breath hitched.
Her mind was screaming at her to push him away.
She exhaled sharply and her body stiffening.
She was having an inner conflict with herself. Don’t react. Don’t react.
But her body?
Her body was betraying her in the worst possible way.
She gasped when his teeth scraped lightly against her pulse point.
The sound that escaped her lips this time wasn’t a protest, nor was it fear.
It was pure, unfiltered pleasure.
Marco growled low in his throat, encouraged by the sound.
His hands moved, sliding down her arms, caressing her skin as if he were memorizing the shape of her.
He licked her neck again, harder this time.
A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending shivers through her.
"You like it," he whispered.
Elara’s eyes fluttered closed.
She couldn’t deny it.
She felt everything–his stubble, his warm lips, his slow, deliberate touch.
She was lost, her body completely giving in to the warmth, the pressure, and the feeling of him.
Marco's lips brushed against her ear again, his voice husky.
“Non è colpa mia se sei così irresistibile.” (It’s not my fault that you’re so irresistible.)
Elara’s heart pounded in her chest.
“But, sir…”
"Shhh, quiet now, baby girl,” he murmured, his lips pressing against her jawline.
"You know I always get whatever I desire to have.”
His voice dropped lower, smooth yet commanding.
“And right now, I want to feel you surrender to me.”
Elara sucked in a sharp breath.
The weight of his words settled over her, but it wasn’t fear that gripped her. It was something else entirely.
Something far more dangerous.
A small, soft whimper escaped her lips–a sound that conveyed her vulnerability as she yielded to him.
This was dangerous.
This was wrong.
But the worst part?
She wasn’t sure she wanted him to stop.
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