The sticky summer heat clung to Marco's skin as he watched Luciana sway her hips, approaching the gaucho for what felt like the thousandth time. His blood boiled, and his fists clenched as he observed their interaction from across the crowded bar.

"Hola, mi amor," the gaucho purred, his voice dripping with honey as he pulled Luciana close. His ridiculous elevator shoes and spangled leather poncho made him stand out like a peacock among pigeons.

Marco's jaw tightened as he watched Luciana giggle, her hand resting on the gaucho's chest. The sight of her touching another man sent jolts of anger through his body. He could still taste her on his lips from their passionate encounter just hours ago, her moans echoing in his ears.

As if sensing his gaze, Luciana glanced over her shoulder, meeting Marco's eyes. A flicker of guilt passed over her face before she turned back to the gaucho, leaning close to whisper something in his ear.

Marco's mind raced back to earlier that day when Luciana had straddled him on their bed, her wet pussy enveloping his throbbing cock. She'd ridden him with abandon, her pert breasts bouncing as she gasped and moaned. "Oh, Marco! Fuck me harder!" she'd cried out, her nails digging into his chest.

But now, watching her flirt shamelessly with the gaucho, Marco wondered if she'd been thinking of him the whole time. The thought made his stomach churn.

Unable to bear it any longer, Marco stormed across the room, roughly grabbing Luciana's arm. "We're leaving," he growled, yanking her away from the gaucho.

"Hey, amigo, take it easy," the gaucho drawled, reaching for Luciana.

Marco's fist connected with the gaucho's jaw before he could think twice. The bar erupted in chaos as Marco dragged a protesting Luciana out into the humid night air.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Luciana hissed, jerking her arm free once they were outside.

"Me? What about you?" Marco snarled. "Flaunting yourself in front of that... that clown!"

Luciana's eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't own me, Marco. I can talk to whoever I want."

Before Marco could retort, Luciana grabbed his face and crushed her lips against his. The kiss was angry, all teeth and tongue, but Marco's body responded instantly. He shoved her against the alley wall, one hand gripping her ass as the other roughly palmed her breast through her thin dress.

Luciana moaned into his mouth, her leg hooking around his waist. Marco ground his hardening cock against her core, feeling the heat emanating from between her thighs.

"Is this what you want?" he growled, nipping at her neck. "To make me jealous?"

"Fuck you," Luciana gasped, her hands fumbling with his belt.

Marco hiked up her dress, tearing her lacy thong aside. He plunged two fingers into her dripping cunt, finding her already slick and ready. "You're so wet," he hissed. "Were you thinking about him while I fucked you earlier?"

Luciana's only response was a breathy moan as Marco's thumb circled her clit. He withdrew his fingers, ignoring her whimper of protest, and freed his aching cock from his pants.

Without warning, Marco thrust into Luciana's tight heat. She cried, her nails digging into his shoulders as he set a punishing pace. Skin slapping against skin echoed in the alley, punctuated by their grunts and moans.

"Tell me you're mine," Marco demanded, his voice ragged as he pounded into her.

Luciana's eyes met his, defiant even as pleasure contorted her features. "Make me," she challenged.

Marco growled, hitching her leg higher and changing the angle of his thrusts. Luciana's head fell back against the wall, a strangled cry escaping her lips as he hit her sweet spot repeatedly.

"Oh god, Marco! Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted, her walls clenching around him.

As Luciana's orgasm washed over her, Marco felt his release building. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his seed deep inside her.

They stood there, panting and trembling, for several long moments. As the fog of lust cleared, Marco's earlier anger resurfaced. He pulled out and stepped back, tucking himself away.

Luciana smoothed down her dress, her eyes downcast. "Marco, I-"

"Save it," he cut her off. "This doesn't change anything."

As they walked home in tense silence, Marco couldn't shake the image of Luciana with the gaucho. He knew that she'd bring him around again tomorrow, flaunting their connection in his face. And despite the mind-blowing sex they'd just had, Marco felt more alone than ever.

The cycle of jealousy, betrayal, and passionate reconciliation would continue, leaving Marco wondering how long he could endure this emotional rollercoaster before something—or someone—finally broke.