Caterina
His words leave me questioning everything. Does he want just a physical connection, or is there something deeper here? I want to ask, but I’m afraid of adding more confusion to my already chaotic emotions. It feels like I’ve landed on a new, unfamiliar world.
With Luciano, things were never like this—Gianni was right. As unsettling as it was to gag on him, it was also thrilling. Each compliment and thrust spurred me on to please him even more. I wanted to be the one who made him happy, who made him come.
The salty tang of his cum still lingers on my tongue. Before now, I had never swallowed. It wasn’t half as bad as I expected. If anything, I feel closer to him than I ever did before. Even through the worst of it, we were in it together. He pushed my boundaries, but I wanted it.
My thighs rub together, the insides slick with the juices of arousal by the time he helps me to my feet. Another first. Just having him in my mouth, listening to his grunts and the filthy things he said, was almost enough to make me come. And the way he used me so roughly, holding me in place, forcing his cock into my mouth, it made my pussy drip just like he said.
That was then. Now he’s tender, sweet. I can almost forget how brutally he treated me only moments ago.
He cups my cheeks in his palms, studying my face. I wonder what he is searching for. Whatever it is, that’s what I want to be. “You are the best kind of torture, Caterina.” His voice is full of wonder, as he gazes at me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
My heart swells and warms, and I hope it’s not something he’ll regret later.
“I shouldn’t have touched you,” he admits, a wry smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. “God knows I should’ve walked away. I should’ve stopped what I was doing the night I saw you in the kitchen.”
His chest rises and falls in a sigh. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t even if I tried.” Pulling me closer until our breaths mingle, he whispers, “There’s something about you I haven’t been able to turn away from. That I can’t let go of, that I don’t want to lose.”
“I know what you mean.” That was tough to admit, but the raising of his brow—like he’s happy to hear it—makes it worthwhile and gives me more courage to continue. “I’ve been telling myself it’s wrong, and I should stay away from you. I knew it was wrong that night when I found you on the patio, and then everything fell apart that night on your desk. But ever since then, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about you.”
Now that I’ve started, it’s easier to tell him everything I’ve been bottling up all these years. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but… I always told myself you would only see me as a little girl.”
There is a tinge of regret in his chuckle. “I only wish I could see you like that. It would make all of this a lot easier.”
My heart’s ready to explode, my pussy dripping, and all he’s doing is touching my face. I’m gripped with confusion; my questions, doubts, and yearning swirl around until I don’t know which way is up. I trust Gianni. I want him. So badly. But I’m still conflicted. We need to talk about his reaction from the other night. Was it fear, or was he trying to push me away?
Suddenly, the vulnerability hits me, and I’m overcome with the need to hide myself, like that will protect me from the intensity of what we’re exploring. I reach around him, grabbing for the nightshirt I left on the bed before getting in the shower.
He waits until I’ve pulled the oversized shirt over my head and thrust my arms through the sleeves before speaking. “Whose shirt is that?”
I should lie. I don’t want to ruin the moment we’re having by bringing Luciano up, but the tone of his voice bridges no excuse. I’d only make it worse by lying.
“It’s his, isn’t it?” he answers for me. Disgust drips from his voice—and anger, which gets my heart pounding all over again.
I nod, gulping. “I should’ve gotten rid of it, maybe burned it, but I was in such a hurry to pack everything and get out of there. I had to get away from the memories. I didn’t think to throw it out.”
I can’t believe how guilty I feel when I haven’t done anything wrong. “And I always use big T-shirts as nightgowns,” I add, like that’s going to help things. “It’s just a shirt.”
The silence stretches between us, and I shiver beneath his gaze. Gianni is completely still, down to his stony expression. Damn, Luciano. He finds a way to ruin everything, even when he’s not a part of it.
My heart’s on the verge of giving out by the time his hand shoots out like a striking snake. It curls around my throat and lifts every hair on my body with the slightest pressure.
“I am going to destroy that shirt.” He speaks slowly, carefully enunciating, while his grip tightens.
I don’t know what game this is. I only know it’s unnerving and exciting, the way he slides out of one mood and into another out of nowhere. I never know what’s coming next.
I yelp in surprise when he releases my throat and wraps an arm around my waist, lifting me and placing me over his shoulder. At first, I imagine him throwing me onto the bed, but he marches toward the door instead.
“Where are we going?” I squeak out as he carries me down the hall.
I really hope nobody sees us, like his guards or his cook. Tatiana can’t find out. No matter what happens.
He doesn’t seem to care about any of that as he continues carrying me through to his side of the second floor. “Our bed.”