The dimly lit room was filled with the sounds of passion. Hurried breaths, and guttural moans were punctuated by the sound of zippers being drawn and stiletto heels being kicked across the room.

Michael Corleone and his fiancée Sabrina DeLane tumbled onto the huge bed, their limbs intertwined, their lips pressed together. "Avere misericordia, Sabryn!" (Have Mercy, Sabrina) Michael moaned as she nibbled on his lower lip.

Sabrina smiled. At the moment she had Michael just where she wanted him. "Now take back what you said," she instructed him.

Abruptly, Michael pulled back from her. His eyes searched hers intently. "Ah, so we are still on that subject," he nodded. He gave her a wry smile. "I cannot take it back, Sabryn. It is the truth. You have no willpower."

Sabrina's beautiful face grew set in determination. "You underestimate me, Michael."

"Do I?" His question was rhetorical. "I do not believe that I do. But I will allow you to prove me wrong."

"Fine," she bit out. "Tell me what you want me to do."

His smile was knowing. Sabrina had just sealed her fate. "It is not about what you can do," he answered her smoothly, " it is what you cannot do that will prove you false."

Michael untangled his limbs from hers and pushed her gently onto her back. He took her hands and placed them, palm up, beside her head on the pillow.

Sabrina allowed him to arrange her body as he wished. She did not comment as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee and then lowered himself between them. With his arousal nestled intimately between her thighs, Michael rested his weight upon his elbows. He looked down upon the woman he'd fallen so in love with and smiled smugly.

Sabrina was suspicious of the smile. She knew him well enough now to know that he had something devious in mind for her. But what, she couldn't tell.

Her eyes widened as he laced the fingers of his left hand with hers. Comprehension began to dawn as he repeated the action with his right hand. 'Please, not that,' she moaned to herself.

Michael read the dawning awareness in her eyes. Confident of his impending victory, he taunted her. "Yes, Sabryn, I see you remember." When she did not comment, he went on, "I do believe you were the first to blink last time?"

She stiffened indignantly. "That was then," she replied.

Shrugging his shoulders, Michael rose until the smooth, blunt head of his erect member was lightly pressed against Sabrina's moist center. His eyes locked with hers, he began to press slowly into her. No more than a fraction of an inch at a time, he would press forward then pause. His focus narrowed until, for him, there was nothing but the concentration of the moment. The cords in his neck stood out as he struggled to control the instinctive wishes of his body.

Sabrina clenched her teeth and tried to focus. For her also, everything in the room had narrowed down to Michael and his slow invasion of her body. She felt the press of his rigid length against her, felt the first moment of insertion, felt the tremors as the ridged tip moved inexorably deeper within her. Her body trembled with the effort for control.

Damn Michael. And damn the Chinese for inventing this technique. When he'd first explained it to her, she had thought it so simple. The man was allowed only the single movement it took to bury himself within the woman. Once there, neither was allowed to move. No flinching, no clutching. The resulting orgasm was mind blowing. Or so they'd been told. Sabrina had never been able to get to that point without breaking.

Desperately, she focused on the single bead of sweat that had formed on Michael's brow. Perhaps if she did not focus on the incredible sensations assaulting her, she would not break this time.

Michael gathered every bit of his considerable willpower. Now that he lay fully within Sabrina's body, the true hell had begun. With no motion to distract his attention, Michael was forced to deal with the sensation of her heated walls surrounding him. It was as though he'd dipped himself into a living cauldron. Heat pulled at him from every direction and it was all he could do not to respond. And so he focused on Sabrina's beautiful face. A face whose cheekbones at the moment seemed chiseled from stone.

One, two, three. She counted along as the tiny vein in Michael's neck pulsed. The momentary distraction was lost as she realized that it throbbed in rhythm to the flesh-covered steel lodged firmly inside her.

She wasn't gonna make it, Sabrina realized. The urge to move was overwhelming. Surrendering, she tensed her inner muscles and clutched him.

It was the signal Michael had been waiting for.

Freeing his fingers, he wrapped his arms about her where she lay on the bed. His arms were like steel bands about her, and she could not move even if she had wanted to. Michael's hips began to move at a frenetic pace. His powerful thrusts were designed to drive him as far into Sabrina as was possible. After what seemed like an eternity of stillness, the ability to thrust was welcome relief. There was no tenderness between them at that moment. Only desperation and desire for completion.

Sabrina would not have it otherwise. She opened herself to him and took as he gave. Her nails left scratches in the tender flesh of his back, even as his fingers would leave bruises upon her hips in the days to come. None of that mattered. Nothing save relief from the unbearable pressure which had built.

Mercifully, Sabrina exploded. Her body jerked and bucked as her orgasm tore through her, rolling her eyes back into her head and stiffening her limbs. Several strokes later, Michael also came. A string of coarse Italian curses echoed through the room as he flooded her still spasming body. Tiny jerks squeezed the last of his orgasm from him.

Totally spent, Michael collapsed beside Sabrina on the bed.

~later that evening~

There had been no 'I told you so' from him. Michael did not need to rub his victory in her face. He was, after all, grateful for her lack of willpower. He lay in the large bed with Sabrina draped across his chest. After their earlier encounter, they had both drifted off to sleep, their bodies spent and their muscles sore. "I never thought *not* doing something could be so hard on the body," he mused aloud.

Sabrina raised her head from his chest. "I guess I should be grateful that you haven't said it," she smiled wryly.

"There is no need."

"I know. Your smug expression says it all," she laughed. "You do know, don't you, that what you said about me holds true for you."

His smirk of disbelief was her answer.

"I'll bet you that I can make you surrender before I do," she challenged him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Michael reply was a low rumble. "You are on."

~to be continued~