ANA:
My heart pounded, my pulse erratic, each beat screaming at me—What the hell are you doing? But deep down, I already knew. I wasn't coming back.
Enzo stared at me, his expression caught between disbelief, shock, and something deeper. Something raw. Something dangerous.
I wanted to hate him. To slap him. To scream at him. To make him feel the same agony he had carved into me with his lies. But the cruel truth? The more I tried to run from him, the deeper he rooted himself inside me.
Fucking stupid hearts.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers twitching before finally reaching for me. He cupped my face gently, his touch searing. Like he was afraid I'd disappear if he held too tight.
His voice was a rasped whisper. "What did you just say?"
I bit my lip, tasting the tension in the air. He knew exactly what I meant. He wanted to hear it again. To feel it.
So, I grabbed his face, stepping closer, my breath mingling with his. "I think I'm in love with you, Devil."
His entire body went rigid, emotions flickering across his face like lightning splitting the sky. Disbelief. Hunger. Something darker. But I wasn't waiting for permission.
Because I already knew the truth—my heart would always belong to him. No matter what. No matter the lies. No matter the hurt. Especially after finding the small box he had kept hidden all this time.
I had questions—questions that burned. But they could wait.
Right now, I need him.
Without hesitation, I pressed my lips to his.
For a second, he was frozen. Tense. Torn. But I wasn't letting him hesitate. I bit his lower lip, my voice a soft, breathless command. "Kiss me."
And he did.
He kissed me like he was drowning. Like I was the only air he had left. His lips devoured mine, slow at first, teasing, tasting. But then—then he shattered. He sucked, nipped, claimed—his tongue sliding past my lips, stroking, deepening, demanding.
A tiny shock raced down my spine, heat pooling low, the ache unbearable. His arms wound around me, yanking me closer, my body flush against his hard, unyielding chest. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, gripping, desperate.
I couldn't breathe.
When he finally pulled back, we were both wrecked. Our foreheads rested together, our breaths heavy, mingling in the space between us.
Until he broke the silence.
"Fuck, Ana."
I gasped, still trying to steady myself. But it was useless—the fire between my legs was a torment, a need I couldn't ignore. The moonlight from the massive window bathed him in silver, making him look less like a man, and more like a fallen angel—sin incarnate.
I could only stare, completely lost in him.
His fingers dipped into his pocket, his voice dark, smooth, full of intent. "You sure you wanna do this, my Estrellita?"
I swallowed hard, my body already burning, my core throbbing with anticipation. I nodded.
He smirked, wicked and knowing. "What if you can't handle me?"
I locked eyes with him, my voice slow, teasing, and utterly reckless. "Try me."
His jaw ticked. Something dark flashed in his gaze. Predatory. Consuming.
"Very well, then."
He turned, walking towards the cabinet, making me frown in confusion. Leaning against it, he slowly turned back to me, eyes raking over me like fire licking over gasoline.
His next words sent a violent shiver down my spine.
"Remove your clothes, Estrellita. Let me see what's mine."
I stood there, breath shallow, heart hammering against my ribs. I couldn't do much except obey—watch him, listen to him, surrender to him.
Slowly, my fingers trembled as they reached the hem of my sundress, pulling it up inch by inch until it slipped from my body. It pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my tiny, lacy thong.
His gaze never wavered. He was waiting. Watching.
I bit my lip, a flicker of hesitation curling in my chest, but I let my fingers slide to my hips, dragging the last piece of fabric down my thighs. And then—I was bare. Completely naked.
And him? Not a single layer removed.
His jaw tensed, his Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes darkening into a storm as he took in every inch of me. But he held back, gulping down his words, restraining his hunger.
"Lie down."
The command was firm. Low. Rough.
I complied without question, stretching across his bed, the cool sheets teasing my heated skin. I had no idea what I was doing—no clue what would come next—but the anticipation, the raw, aching need, coiled inside me like a live wire.
I heard movement. A drawer sliding open.
My heart stuttered. What is he doing?
A moment later, the mattress dipped under his weight. The scent of him—spiced, musky, dangerously familiar—wrapped around me, filling my senses.
And then, I felt him. Close.
His knees bracketed my thighs, his body hovering just above mine. Our breaths tangled. Our lips barely apart. But neither of us moved.
The tension crackled, unbearable.
His voice dropped into a husky whisper. "Remember, this is what you chose. And now... there's no going back. Understood?"
I swallowed hard, nodding.
"Tell me you understand."
"I understand."
His lips curved slightly, a sinful smirk ghosting over his face. "Good girl."
Before I could process it, he pulled out a piece of satin—thin, soft, and full of unspoken promises.
I frowned slightly, my brows knitting together.
"Don't worry," he murmured, his fingers grazing my cheek. "This is for your own pleasure."
And then—darkness.
The fabric slid over my eyes, blinding me, heightening every other sensation. My breath hitched. His voice was velvet and sin.
"All these years, I've only learned to love you more. To understand the depth of love—the darkness and the power it holds. Tonight..." He leaned in, his lips ghosting over my ear. "I'm going to show you."
I lay there, blindfolded, naked, completely at his mercy. Yet, I trusted him.
And still—he didn't touch me.
He moved around me instead, his presence brushing against my skin, teasing, tormenting. When his fingers finally skimmed my thigh, a sharp jolt of electricity shot through my nerves.
My body reacted instinctively, reaching out, aching for him.
"I'll fucking stop if you move, Estrellita."
His warning sent a shiver down my spine. A cruel, intoxicating game. I clenched my fists against the sheets, forcing myself still. Desperate. Frustrated. Dying for more.
His fingers continued, light, maddening, barely there. Heat built, spiraling, consuming. And then—a bite.
Sharp teeth against my earlobe, dragging a strangled moan from my throat.
"Shhh, keep it down, my love." His voice was a whisper of possession. "I'm a jealous man. I might just kill the one who hears your moans apart from me."
A tremor ran through me. Dark. Twisted. Unapologetically his.
His lips found my throat, tracing, teasing, lingering. The heat of his breath fanned over my skin, a cruel tease as he worked his way lower. My nipples hardened, aching for friction. But this bastard—this tormenting devil—wasn't giving me any.
Instead, he kissed the side of my breast, so close, yet so far. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin before he trailed lower, lower...
I gasped as his teeth grazed my belly, nibbling, teasing, marking. I snapped. My hands flew to his hair, tangling in his dark strands, pulling him closer, needing him. But he pinned me down instantly. His grip was firm, dominant. Unyielding.
"What did I warn you?"
I bit my lip, swallowing my frustration. "I understand."
His chuckle was deep, sinful. "Good girl."
Even with my eyes covered, I felt his smirk. I could feel his pleasure in my torment. And then, his mouth was moving again. Lower. His lips grazed my thighs, pressing soft, lingering kisses before—a bite. I clenched my fists tighter, desperate, aching, throbbing.
He shifted, parting my legs wider. A low, guttural grunt rumbled in his chest.
I wanted to rip off this blindfold. I wanted to see him. Watch him between my thighs, watch his mouth on me. But the unknown—the wait—the unbearable suspense—made it all the more exquisite.
"Enzo, please..." My voice was nothing but a whisper, a plea.
A dark chuckle. He knew.
I felt his breath ghost over my aching, pulsing core. The heat of it made me tremble. I knew what was coming. I knew him.
And yet, nothing prepared me for the moment his tongue finally—finally—dragged over me.
A slow, agonizing slurp.
I choked out a moan. "Enzo..."
I know he's teasing me—making me wait, making me ache. I hate him for it. I hate how much I want him.
"Enzo, please, don't play with me." My voice is breathless, desperate.
His amused chuckle sends a shiver down my spine. "Then tell me what you want, Anastasia."
"Fucking stop the torture and fuck me with your tongue."
A deep, sinful laugh escapes him. "You have me on my knees, my love. And tonight, I shall worship my goddess."
Then, his mouth is on me again—hot, wet, relentless. This time, he doesn't tease. His tongue moves with purpose, gliding over every sensitive part of me, stroking, tasting, consuming me whole. My body jerks beneath him as pleasure crashes over me in waves. I clutch the sheets like they're the only thing keeping me grounded, but nothing can anchor me now. Not when he's feasting on me like this. Not when he's unraveling me with every flick, every stroke, every sinful sound he makes against my skin.
I shatter, my release pulsing through me as he drinks me in.
When he finally removes the blindfold, my vision is hazy, my body still trembling. And then I see him. Messy hair. Half-unbuttoned shirt. His lips glistening with my pleasure.
I stare, utterly undone.
He smirks. "Are you going to fuck me now?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
His eyes darken, filled with something raw, something deeper. "I'm going to make love to you tonight, darling."
And I blush—hard.
He starts undressing, and I swear time slows. I watch him—watch every movement, every flex of his muscles, every shift of his jaw. He looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, and when his V-line comes into view, I want to trace my tongue along it, taste every inch of him.
"Ana, stop fucking me with your eyes," he chuckles, completely bare before me now.
I grin. "Don't stop me from looking at what's mine."
His smile softens, his dimple making my heart stutter. Hovering over me, he kisses me again—deep, slow, searing. When he pulls away, his voice is a whisper against my lips.
"I am all yours. I always have been. I always will be."
The air thickens as he reaches for a condom, rolling it on with practiced ease. Then, he positions himself at my entrance, his thick length pressing against me, stretching me already.
"From this day forward," he murmurs, locking eyes with me, "you and I are one."
I glance down, swallowing hard at the sight of him.
"I-I don't think that will ever fit."
He grins wickedly. "Oh, it will, my love. I'll make sure of it."
"Do you trust me?"
His voice is low, dark, filled with something dangerous and consuming.
I nod.
Then, with one deep, unforgiving thrust, he enters me.
I gasp, my nails sinking into his back, clinging to him as my body stretches around his thick length. He doesn't even flinch, doesn't hiss at the sting I know I'm leaving on his skin. Fuck. He's really big.
He gives me a moment—just a moment—to adjust, his hands gripping my thighs, his chest pressed against mine. And then, he starts moving.
Every time he pulls out, he does it slow, deliberate, making me feel every inch of him before slamming back in, raw and unrelenting. He fucks me like he owns me—like I belong to him. And the piercing—God, the piercing—sends sparks of pleasure coursing through me, something I never knew could feel this good.
My core tightens, the tension coiling like a live wire, burning, building. I'm close. So close.
"Enzo," I pant, my voice breaking. "I'm gonna come."
He bites my earlobe, his tongue flicking over the sting before he whispers, "Fucking come for me, love."
And then he shifts, angling his hips just right, hitting the spot that sends me spiraling. My legs fall over his shoulders, his grip tightening around my ankles as he keeps going, merciless, relentless. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming.
I shatter.
My body clenches around him, and I cry out, stars bursting behind my eyelids as the orgasm rips through me.
Enzo groans, his thrusts growing sloppy, desperate. And then, with a deep growl, he follows, spilling into me with a final thrust that leaves me breathless.
We collapse, tangled in each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our chests rising and falling in sync. A lazy, satisfied smile tugs at my lips. This was different. Raw. Consuming.
And yet, suddenly, all I want is more. I want him buried deep inside me again, stretching me, filling me, making me his all over again.
We lay there under the silver glow of the moonlight, breathing, existing, witnessing the beauty of the darkness.
Now I know—no matter what—I will never see the light the same way again.
Because he will always be my ruin. My home.
"Estrellita?" His voice is a husky murmur in the dark.
"Hmm?"
"Ready for round two?"