Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 86: Don’t go easy on me

Chapter 86: Don’t go easy on me

"I want you... right now."

The words barely registered in Lorenzo’s ears, not because he didn’t hear her—but because they hit him like a punch to the gut as he carried her out of the water, drenched and trembling in his arms.

"Where are you going?" Ashley asked, her voice low, impatient, hungry.

"Home," he growled, setting her down just long enough to tug on his trousers with frantic urgency. "I want you to feel safe."

The area might have been secluded, but it wasn’t safe—not for what he was about to do to her. He couldn’t risk another eye witnessing what belonged only to him.

Without another word, he scooped her up again, grabbing her gown and striding toward the car like a man possessed. Warmth bloomed in ashley’s chest at his thoughtfulness.

Inside, the air thickened with heat and unspoken need. Ashley’s thighs pressed together, the ache between them growing stronger. Biting her lip, her fingers inched downward, craving relief.

"Do that and I’ll punish you," Lorenzo rasped, his gaze catching hers just as her hand began to slide beneath her shirt.

Her breath hitched.

"What kind of punishment?" she asked, voice all honey and heat, lifting the shirt slightly to tease him—one slow inch at a time.

He growled, knuckles turning white against the steering wheel, his bare chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

"Have you ever been strapped to a chair," he murmured, leaning over to brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek, "legs wide open... toys filling your sweet little pussy?"

His voice was low, slow—each word deliberate, like a match striking against her skin. The images flooded her mind with humiliating clarity, and her breath came in ragged gasps.

Her hand froze, pulse thundering in her ears.

Lorenzo started the engine and sped away from the woods, feeling his control slip with every second that passed. It was the fastest he’d driven since his teenage years.

"You’d pass out before you knew it, cookie," he added, not looking at her. "And I won’t hesitate to show you if you move those hands again."

Ashley’s body grew rigid, a new kind of thrill rippling through her. Her throat went dry.

By the time they reached his mansion, Lorenzo barely managed to park before they bolted from the car and rushed toward the house.

To his relief, the living room was empty—Kai, Rowan, and Genevieve had already left. Had they seen Ashley, half-naked in his shirt, flushed and panting, they’d know instantly.

And she would’ve been mortified.

He didn’t give her time to think. He dragged her toward the elevator. The stairs would’ve taken too long.

The moment the doors slid shut, he closed the distance. Pinning her against the mirrored wall, one hand gripped her hip, the other tangling in her damp hair. His lips found hers, claiming, devouring, before trailing fire down to her jaw, then lower, to the soft curve of her neck.

Ashley moaned, hips shifting against him, hands tangled in his hair. When his teeth grazed her collarbone just as the elevator gave a soft jolt, she whimpered—pain and pleasure fusing into something wickedly addictive.

She ground herself against his stomach, grateful that he didn’t slow down—not even a little—as he carried her. With a kick, he pushed the door open and stepped into the softly lit room.

Approaching the bed, he caught something flicker in her eyes. Not just desire—something deeper. Something broken.

"Are you sure you want this, princess?" he husked, his lips pausing on the swell of her breast.

She nodded almost too quickly.

"Yes. Make me forget everything."

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched. He knew this was her seeking an escape from all that’d happened.

He tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a gasp, bouncing slightly on the mattress, the air catching in her throat.

"Soon," he murmured, eyes locked on hers as he undid his pants, "the only thing you’d be thinking of will be me. And the only ache will be between those thighs."

Ashley’s pulse hammered in her chest. The way he said it–like a warning, each word echoing like a forbidden vow– made her entire body sizzle.

He kicked off his pants and her breath caught at the sight of his shaft–thick, hard and straining against his briefs. Her body throbbed with an almost unbearable need.

But he was no longer in a rush, he was savoring every second, and it was driving her crazy.

"On your knees, princess," he commanded, and she obeyed without hesitation.

"Take off the shirt. And the bra."

She did it slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze the whole time, savoring the way his breath hitched, and his eyes dilated. When a low groan escaped him, she smiled—knowing she wasn’t the only one being punished.

"God, you’re so beautiful," Lorenzo husked, climbing onto the bed. He hovered over her, eyes locked to her bare chest as he reached out and cupped her breasts. They fit perfectly into his palms, like they were made just for him.

"So perfect."

Ashley whimpered as he squeezed them, rough and possessive. Then his mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing every desperate sound she made.

His hands kneaded her nipples, rolling them between his fingers while he kissed her like he was starving. Indeed he was.

"I want to take my time with you," he growled, breaking the kiss just long enough to nip down her neck, her collarbone, lower body. "But you make that so fucking impossible."

Fear curled unexpectedly in Ashley’s gut.

He pinched a nipple, just hard enough to make her cry out, then soothed it with his tongue. His teeth grazed her skin in punishing, worshipful bites that left her gasping.

Christian had always been rough. He’d made her dread sex, taught her that intimacy meant pain, powerlessness, humiliation. But somehow, now, with Lorenzo, she wanted—no, needed—to be free of that fear.

She had thought he would pounce on her the second the door shut behind them, thought lust would swallow him whole. Not that she wouldn’t have liked that. But instead, he’d slowed everything down. He admired her like she was art—spoke to her body with reverence, not greed.

No one had ever looked at her like that. No one had ever made her feel as good.

He unknowingly was erasing the ghosts of her past with every touch, every gentle graze of his teeth, every whispered word. His hands weren’t just waking her flesh—they were healing something broken. Something buried so deep she didn’t even realize it still bled.

And that terrified her.

She wanted to run. Push him away. Flee before he dug in too deep—before he saw just how shattered she was.

But her body wouldn’t let her. Not with this throbbing ache between her thighs.

"Don’t go easy on me," she whispered, almost breathless, arching against him. Her nails gripped his hair, pulling herself closer to him. It hurt, but Lorenzo didn’t mind.

A low growl rumbled from his throat. Then she felt his teeth dragging her panties down, or rather his briefs, slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited a lifetime to touch.

"You’re dripping, princess," he murmured, slipping a finger into her. She clenched, wanting more, but he pulled away, tasting her slowly, his gaze intense.

When she instinctively tried to close her legs, he caught her thighs, spreading them wider.

"Don’t hide from me," he whispered, voice rough, almost pleading.

She gasped when another finger entered her, curling, hitting just the right spot. The pleasure was so intense, she almost sobbed. Then he brought it to her lips, letting her taste herself.

"You see?" His eyes gleamed. "You taste like heaven."

Her breath caught. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet alive in a way she hadn’t in years.

"Please..." Her voice cracked. "Please, fuck me already."

The way he looked at her in that moment—God, she’d never felt wanted like this. Possessed like this.

Lorenzo drank in the desperation in her voice, and it ignited something primal in him. He couldn’t wait to brand himself into every inch of her, to ruin her for anyone else. But even as the urge clawed at him to grant her request, he forced himself to hold back, determined to carve every moment into her memory so deeply she’d never escape him again, no matter how hard she tried. With other women, he never kissed, never went slow—just fucked and walked away. But this one... with her, he was ready to take his time. To make sure she never forgot.

He adjusted her, lifting her onto his knees, so her hips tilted just right.

"We’ll get there, love," he murmured. "But first, I need you to fuck these fingers. Fast."

Three thick fingers flashed in front of her, and then they plunged into her. Slow at first, then deeper, faster.

Ashley’s back arched, a cry tearing from her throat as more waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her thrashing, aching, begging for more.