Chapter 95: Spread Your Legs, Tesoro (18+)

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The door creaked open with a soft click, clearly someone who was in no rush to get anywhere. Lorenzo stepped in, already wearing a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the fabric hugging his shoulders and chest just enough for me to notice the lingering strength from our earlier fight.

He paused in the doorway, eyes focused on me as I sat on the bed’s edge, wrapped in a thin bathrobe, my damp hair sticking to the back of my neck alongside the dull, throbbing reminders of my bruises from before.

I exhaled, here we go...

The way he looked at me felt heavier than any hold he’d had on me during the match, slow and thorough, without a hint of hurry, almost as if he was memorizing every detail of me waiting for him just as he liked it.

I tried...really tried to look like I hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes questioning every single choice that had brought me here.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t succeed.

My heartbeat felt like it was doing a little jig in my throat, and the bathrobe suddenly seemed as useful as a paper towel in a storm.

"Vita mia," He said, shutting the door and locking it, making no room for me to escape this. "I have come to collect my reward."

He approached me without rushing, every step measured and quiet, his green eyes locked onto mine as the distance between us vanished. He stopped right in front of me, lifted one large hand, and gently stroked my cheek with his thumb, almost worshipful, which somehow felt more intimate than anything earlier in the fight.

There was a contrast between the calmness in his voice with the intensity burning in his gaze, and my heart raced even more.

"You look beautiful like this," he said softly, his thumb tracing my cheekbone like he had every right to touch me. "Sitting here, waiting for me. You fought so well today...stronger than anyone expected. Stronger than I expected. And honestly, the fight just made me want you even more."

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, the mix of praise and possession so intertwined that I couldn’t tell one from the other. Then there was a shift, soft but absolute. "You’re my omega now. You belong to me...say it."

My face heated up. The contract hovered in my mind, leaving little space for defiance even as the last bits of pride tried to dig in. In the back of my head, a tired version of me waved a white flag, mumbling, Well, this is happening.

Be submissive...at least in the bedroom.

"I’m... your omega," I managed to say, the words coming out hesitant and softer than I intended. "I belong to you."

"Yes," he replied, his voice low and satisfied. "You do."

His thumb slipped between my lips, resting against my tongue, forcing me to taste the slight saltiness of his skin while he held my gaze, never blinking. The intimacy of the gesture stole the air from my lungs more effectively than any hit he’d thrown earlier.

"I am your Alpha, your husband, the only person you’ll ever need. Whatever I say, you do...if not, you will be punished. Do you understand, my love?"

I hesitated, that last flicker of stubbornness flaring even as my body leaned into the quiet authority radiating from him.

He waited patiently, thumb still resting against my tongue. Eventually, I nodded, the movement small and reluctant.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that felt too pleased. "Use your words, Piccolo."

"I understand," I forced out around the gentle pressure of his thumb, the admission tasting like both surrender and a strange sense of relief.

Internally, I was already drafting a strongly worded letter to Future Me about making better choices. Present Me, however, was too busy trying not to sink into the mattress.

"Good omega." The praise landed heavily, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. He slowly withdrew his thumb, dragging it across my lower lip as if sealing my words in place, and then he followed that up with another confession, just as calm and almost reverent. "I would give you the world... or burn it down if you asked. That’s how deep my love for you runs. I hope you’ll one day feel even a fraction of that for me."

I was left speechless, the weight of his admission settling over me like another kind of pin, leaving me flushed and rattled while he looked at me like I was something precious he was finally allowed to claim.

’But I do feel a fraction.’ I wanted to say, then my mind came up with just one coherent thought: Oh. Followed quickly by: We’re in trouble.

Lorenzo stepped back without a word and walked to the chair at the foot of the bed, settling in with a sense of ownership that made it clear he believed everything in the room belonged to him.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter, the soft clink of glass echoing in the quiet, and took a slow sip while watching me over the rim with that same predator-like intensity that made my skin feel too tight.

"Stand up and come here."

My face turned hotter. Every instinct screamed for me to stay put, to cling to whatever distance I had left, but the contract and the commanding tone in his voice left little room for arguing.

I forced myself to stand, legs still aching from the fight, and as the bathrobe slipped a little at one shoulder, I crossed the short distance to him, acutely aware of how exposed I felt under his gaze. The floorboards felt colder than they should have, or maybe that was just me.

"Take it off."

The instinctive protest bubbled up. "Dracula—"

His smirk was slow and dangerous. "Oh? Are you really going to argue with your Alpha? That wasn’t in the contract, was it?"

I shot him a glare, heat flooding my cheeks and chest, but the words died on my lips. Complying felt like both defeat and something darker, something that made my heart race for reasons I didn’t want to explore too closely.

I untied the belt with shaky fingers and let the bathrobe fall open, finally slipping from my shoulders completely, the soft fabric pooling at my feet, leaving me completely naked under his open, hungry stare.

What a shameless pervert!

Somewhere in the distance, I could almost hear my dignity packing its bags and leaving the room.

Lorenzo’s gaze moved over me without any attempt to hide the heat in it, taking in every bruise, my damp hair curling at the nape of my neck, the way my chest rose and fell too quickly under the weight of his intense attention.

When he spoke again, his words were quiet and almost completely in awe, edged with something that sounded dangerously like devout worshipper. "God... you’re the closest thing to heaven I could ever get."

The sincerity stripped away any last bits of defiance I had left, leaving me standing there, flushed and bare and painfully aware of how my body was responding to his attention.

My brain, always unhelpful, had nothing to say...just a blank static of well, damn.

"Get on the bed."

I climbed onto the mattress, with no real choice left, the sheets cool against my overheated skin. Lorenzo stayed in the chair, glass of whiskey still loosely in his hand, watching me with a calm, predatory focus that made every moment stretch out longer than it should have.

Light, teasing praise blended with genuine heat in his next words. "Look at you... already learning how to be good for me. Or is it that you already knew how to be good and just wanted to make me work hard for this side of you?"

My face burned as frustration swirled through my mind while my body was painfully aware of how exposed I was, how the soreness from the fight only heightened every sensation, how the quiet of the room made my own breathing sound embarrassingly loud.

He set the glass aside and leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, making the space between us feel smaller even though he hadn’t moved from the chair.

"Now..." His voice dropped into something lower and heavier, absolute calm control. "Spread your legs for me, tesoro."

The command felt like a physical touch. Heat flooded my cheeks and chest so quickly it made me lightheaded, embarrassment and unwanted anticipation tangled tightly. Each scrap of pride flared in protest as my body registered the inevitable weight of the contract and the man holding it.

I sat there, naked and flushed, feeling the ache in places that had nothing to do with the fight, the full force of his gaze keeping me in place as the order hung between us, heavy and unavoidable, rewriting any boundaries I thought still existed.

For what felt like a long moment, I didn’t move. My mind scrambled for any possible escape route...sarcasm, delay, a sudden fire alarm, but nothing useful came to mind. Lorenzo simply waited, patient and steady, a slight smile playing on his lips as if he already knew how this was going to end.

"Alex," he said, softly but firmly, the single word carrying more weight than a shout ever could. "I won’t ask twice."

And just like that, the last thin thread of resistance snapped.