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His kisses become insistent, his lips crushing against mine as he moves with a fervor that matches mine. I can feel his heart racing against mine, the bond between us growing stronger with each passing moment.
My body is desperate for release, for the completion that only he can bring me. The muscles in my core tighten, my hips bucking to meet his every stroke.
He senses my desire, his rhythm picking up speed as he reaches for the release I so desperately need. He thrusts harder and faster, his breath ragged in my ear. “Come again for me, my tesoro,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with passion.
My body begins to shake uncontrollably, the pleasure building to a crescendo. I cry out his name, my voice hoarse with passion, as the orgasm takes over, waves of pleasure washing over me like a tidal wave.
I’m lost in the sensation, my body arching beneath him, every muscle clenching around him as he continues to thrust into me.
He grunts, his hips bucking wildly, and then he’s there, pulling out at the last moment, spurting onto my pussy lips, more splashing my stomach as he strokes his shaft, staring into my eyes the entire time.
“When I come inside you, it will be to get you pregnant,” he says as more drops onto my skin. There’s an unmistakable message in his posture, his gaze. It says, ‘She’s mine.’
It’s possessiveness, raw and unapologetic. And while it should set off alarms, I find a guilty pleasure in being so fiercely claimed.
We collapse against each other, our hearts pounding in sync, our breaths ragged with exertion. I run my fingers through his hair, my body still quivering with the aftershocks of our passion.
Lying beside him, the weight of his arm around me feels like both a protection and a chain. He said he’d do anything to keep me safe, but how far does that extend? To controlling who I see, what I do?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, not just from fear but also an unsettling excitement. Is this what I want? The safety of his world, even if it means giving up pieces of my freedom?
SIX
Alessandro
I wake up to find her gone and my phone ringing. I’m always up early. I never sleep in. I never sleep at all when someone else is moving around me.
Did she drug me last night or what? How the hell did she get out of here without me knowing?
I sit up and grab my phone, shoving it to my ear. “He couldn’t get close to the hotel,” Tony says down the line. “Pissed enough to torch her place instead.”
I’m on my feet in an instant. “Where is she? Is she hurt?”
“Sat outside the remains of her house, crying. She’s got a note in her hand. I’m guessing he left it for you to read.”
“Don’t let her leave. I’ll be there in thirty. Keep her in your sight, you hear me?”
I dress quickly. She left without saying goodbye. I didn’t even hear her go. Why would she leave? Surely I made clear the danger she’s in.
This is the problem with being that young. They think they’re immortal. That’s how Catherine felt and she never saw her twentieth birthday.
It’s early enough for me to get to Jess’s place in thirty minutes. I find her slumped on the lawn, staring at the charred remains of the house. Tony’s watching from a car. He gives me a nod as I pass him by.
I take a moment, allowing myself to feel the weight of this tragedy through her eyes. This isn’t just about physical loss; it’s a breach of her safety, her hope of peace. As I near, her gaze lifts to meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling within those depths.
“Hey,” I begin, my voice soft, deliberately shedding any remnants of the authoritative figure I usually present.
She looks up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the vulnerability in her gaze striking a chord within me. “It’s all gone,” she whispers, a tremble in her voice that speaks volumes of her internal chaos. “Just gone.”
I sit beside her, close enough to offer comfort, yet respecting the space she might need. “I’m so sorry this happened,” I say, reaching out tentatively, an offer of solace. When she doesn’t pull away, I wrap an arm around her, pulling her gently against me.
“My mom. She was everywhere in there. It’s like losing her all over again.”
Feeling a wave of empathy wash over me, I say, “You carry her here,” placing a hand over my heart. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of my sister, of the moments we shared. Those memories, they’re etched inside, untouchable by fire or time.”
Her eyes lift to meet mine, searching, maybe for a shred of solace in my shared sorrow. “It hurts so much,” she admits, laying bare the depth of her pain.
“It will.”
