99 Percent Mine: A Novel

What the hell did I just unleash?

I cling to the lapels of his jacket, glancing over Benito’s shoulder as his men usher people toward the exits. Heart pounding, I gulp as every membrane of my throat dries. I only wanted him to be the sex object for once, but this is ridiculous.

“Are you really clearing the casino for me?”

He grabs my hips, pulling me flush against his erection. “Nothing’s more important than you. The business can go to hell.”

This is crazy. I wanted to return to his office. Or even a private room. Not disrupt millions of dollars worth of transactions. Before I can even protest, his lips descend on mine for another kiss.

The echoes of chatter and clinking chips fade, leaving the two of us in the hush of an emptied floor. He lifts me off my feet and sets me on a poker table, the felt brushing my fingertips. Chips and cards scatter as he lays me flat, but this may as well be another world. I’m losing my mind. Losing my resolve. Losing track of why I came here. Losing myself in Benito’s embrace.

All the rage, all the hurt dissolves into the heat of this kiss, in the fire that’s always burned whenever we touch. His lips devour mine like he’s starving, in this moment of madness, and I forget why I ever left. My body craves the intensity, the passion I thought I could escape.

“I’m a selfish bastard,” he murmurs against my mouth, his breath ragged. “But I’ll do anything not to lose you.”

His words ripple through my defenses, settling in the hollow ache I’ve carried for months. What I said earlier was on impulse. I should fight—push him away, but the pounding of his heart against mine is intoxicating.

“I don’t deserve this second chance. I’ve hurt you, manipulated you, controlled you.” This time, his admission is like he’s baring his soul, laying it at my feet. “But you’ve always been my everything. You’re the blood running through my veins, the only source of color in my world. Without you, everything is gray.”

The raw need in his words sends shivers racing down my spine, and his desperation seeps into my skin. No force in the universe could pull me away from this moment, not even my shattered pieces of self-preservation.

Benito’s grip tightens, pulling me closer into his orbit, his hands tracing my sides. The kiss deepens, and my fingers tangle in his thick hair, clutching as if letting go means losing him forever.

“What if I can’t forgive you?” I whisper against his lips. “I can’t forget everything you made me suffer.”

He draws back to look me full in the face. “I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I never want you to forget. But I swear to spend the rest of my life making sure no one will ever make you suffer.”

Maybe I’m touch-starved. Maybe I’m awestruck that he’s disrupted the casino. Maybe we’re two halves of the same twisted soul, but something inside me snaps. All my restraint crumbles, giving way to fierce need.

His eyes—vulnerable and haunted—hold traces of the man I once loved buried beneath layers of control and regret. I rip open his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the green felt, tumbling off the table and clicking onto the floor.

With trembling hands, I drag my fingers over the chiseled planes of his chest, which rise and fall with each ragged breath. My touch trails lower, gliding over his abs as I crave a taste of his raw power, even though I swore to stay away.

He tears off my tank top, exposing my skin to the cool air. Overhead, the low hum of the lights casts a faint glow, outlining him in neon hues.

His dark eyes gleam. “I’ll prove to you, every single day, that the man who hurt you no longer exists.”

“Really?” I whisper.

“Every hour, every minute, every mother fucking second. I’ll start right now by worshiping you as my goddess.”

His hands slip under the waistband of my leggings, tracing lines of fire down my sides, branding me with every touch. It’s familiar, yet electrifying, fueling the magnetic force of our desire.

“I won’t move in with you,” The words slip out, breathless, and my heart pounds as I wait for his answer.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my jaw. “All I’m asking for is a chance to let me prove that I’ve changed.”

Heaven help me, I’m hopelessly drawn to this sweet poison. Surrendering, even though it might end in ruin.

My hands fall back to his belt, trembling as I yank it open, the buckle clinking as I tear at the fly. I shove down his pants, exposing the rigid length of an erection pushing against his silk boxers. His breath hitches, and I groan, my fingers tracing the thick outline, feeling him pulse beneath my touch.

When he moans, the sound sends a rush of desire straight to my core. My clit aches. My folds become slick. I’ve missed this. Missed him.

“You’re the only woman who’s ever made me feel alive,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve spent every day without you in agony, trying to fix what I broke. And I’ll keep working on myself, whether you’re with me or not. But if there’s any part of you that still loves me⁠—”

“Stop talking.” I ease down his boxers, freeing his beautiful cock, and wrap my fingers around his shaft, making us both groan.

I should walk away. I should tell him I need more time, but I can’t. The truth is, despite everything, I still love him. I always have.

After peeling off what’s left of my leggings, he slides his fingers between my folds, finding my clit with an agonizing slowness that sends a shiver down my spine. He rubs in slow, deliberate circles, each touch setting my nerve endings on fire. I part my lips and moan, my body arching into his chest, desperate for more. No one could ever unravel me like this, or play my body until I’m teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“I hate you for how you made me suffer,” I whisper, my voice shaking with the weight of my emotions. “But I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, as if my words are a balm to the wound of our separation. When they open again, all I find is fierce determination, a fire that mirrors the one burning in my soul.

“From now until the day I die, I’ll never stop fighting,” he says. “You’re the only thing that gives my life meaning.”

He lifts me off the tables and into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist. The blunt tip of his cock presses against my entrance, sending shockwaves through my core. He pauses, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart soar.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice is a hoarse whisper, rough with need. “Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, every fiber of my being aching to connect.

With a swift, powerful thrust, he pushes into my entrance, his thick girth stimulating my nerves with a delicious stretch. Gasping, I dig my nails into his shoulders. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this full, I almost forgot it was so intoxicating. The sensations are overwhelming, almost too much, but I’ve craved his touch for months.

“Fuck,” Benito growls through clenched teeth, his body shaking from the effort of restraint. “You’re so tight.”

His words infuse me with pleasant shudders, sparking every nerve to life, igniting an insatiable ache for more. But he stills. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and brimming with emotion, as if he’s fighting not just to hold back, but to reclaim what he’s lost.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my grip tightening around his shoulders.

“I want to savor this moment,” he says through panting breaths. “I never thought you’d let me this close again after my selfish betrayal.”

“Benito,” I whisper.

His chest heaves, and every line of his face etches with regret. “You feel like heaven. Like home.”

Time seems to slow, and for the next several heartbeats, we’re two chambers of the same fractured heart, each yearning to heal. My walls flutter around his shaft, making him shiver.

“Come with me to therapy,” he says, the words urgent. “We can do couples counseling. We can work out our differences. You can learn about all the impulses I’m trying to control.”

“A-alright,” I whisper.

“Ginevra.”

The vulnerability in his gaze radiates gratitude, regret, and a longing for change. For the first time since he found me in that closet, I see the old Benito—the one I destroyed when I left.

I can’t dwell on the past for too long because there’s no denying this urgent need. It burns, deep and primal, demanding more.

“Please,” I whisper, the word escaping as a desperate plea. “Move.”

Breath hitching, he withdraws, then snaps his hips forward, pounding into my pussy with raw precision. As I bump against the table, his lips graze down the curve of my neck, each hot breath searing my skin, while every thrust sends waves of molten ecstasy rippling through my core.

I rake my fingers down his back, their nails digging into his flesh as I surrender to the intensity—the way he moves, the way we collide, the way he drives me to the brink of madness.

His grip tightens on my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, his pace quickening with a desperate urgency. “I need you, Ginevra,” he groans against my ear, his voice rough and raw. “It’s been like this since the beginning.”

A shiver tears through my body at his words, the tension inside coiling tight, ready to snap. “Don’t you dare stop. Not now. Not ever.”

“Never,” he growls, his pace quickening.

The pressure builds, every movement driving me closer to the edge, spiraling higher with each relentless snap of his hips. His breath turns ragged, the tremor in his muscles matching the tightening coil low in my belly.

“I’m so close,” I say, clinging to his larger body as if I’ll shatter.

“Then come with me.”

His grip tightens, pulling me impossibly closer, and with one final thrust, the tension snaps, sending us both crashing over the edge in perfect sync.

Pleasure rips through my senses, pulling him into the same wild current. His cock pulses once, twice, and his groan vibrates against my skin, his grip tightening as he shudders through his release. Hot spurts of cum coat my inner walls, my muscles clenching around his shaft, milking every last drop. We tremble together, the intensity that’s been building between us finally breaking free.

And for the first time in half a decade, I let myself believe that maybe we can find our way back to each other’s trust.

This isn’t yet forgiveness—not by a long shot.

But it’s a start.