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“Greedy, pretty little thing.” He hits me again, and I moan. Oh, God, it feels so good. “You’re all wet, aren’t you?”
He wants to unleash, dive into play, call me names, and play the sadistic man who uses me. But this isn’t that.
It hits me right as a small orgasm rolls through me, making me writhe and whisper, “More.”
Tizio is angry. Truly angry . . . at me . . . at himself . . . at everything. Because he’s scared. He thought I might die and . . . oh God, does he love me?
He slides his other hand from where he holds my head, down along my spine as he slaps me harder. I jerk and cry out, the pressure still there, the rest of the pleasure wanting to fly. That hand moves from my spine to my inner thighs, through the wetness, and up to my pussy. Then he pushes three fingers into me and starts to fuck me with them. It’s like he’s playing a beat on the drums as he strokes my G-spot with each thrust.
The next slap pushes me over the edge, and I come, a small scream escaping me as the pleasure unleashes itself, pulsating through me.
He pulls his fingers from me and lies me on the bed. Then he strips naked and rolls us so his erection is hard between my thighs and I’m on top.
I smooth my hands over his hair, his cheeks, and a tear falls on him. I kiss him, and it melts down into something new as he pushes into me. We make love, slow and languid, and he flips us as we build up the pressure so he can twist it into hard sex, slamming into me until we both come.
He drops kisses all over my face and rolls us again, still in me so I’m lying on him, wrapped tight in his arms.
This . . . this is just sex. Hot, unexpected, but sex. Because without the words, there’s a shelf life and?—
“You don’t just fucking leave, Karlee.”
“You don’t love me.”
“I never said that.”
“No,” I say quietly, “you never did.”
He frowns. “Not what I meant. I . . .”
“Tizio, if you tell me that this has a use-by date, you want it to be over, it won’t work. What am I meant to think?”
“That I’ll fucking spank you again.” He closes his eyes and smooths his hand down over my back, down to my fiery ass. “I’m sorry, Karlee. This is . . . I’m not . . . I don’t do this. But when I realized you were gone, I lost my goddamn mind. And I got it. I understood. You. What you mean to me. Cut me some slack.”
“No.”
He smiles slowly. “That’s my Karlee, a fucking hard ass because she’s from New York.”
I hit his chest then curl my fingers against his heart. “Prick.”
“It took me a while because I’m too fucking old, you’re basically jailbait, not to mention my friend’s sister. You’refucking mouthy, smart—smarter than anyone I know. And you fit me. You fit. Somehow, you fit.” He looks me in the eye, his cock still in me, arms around me, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it.
It’s that clear.
That bright.
I want to cry all over again.
“Karlee, I thought I could do the right thing and let you go, but I can’t. I fell in love with you. I love you, and I’m not letting you go.”
I give a hiccup of a sob.
“I know you think you know my story, but life was hard. It was a life and death game of avoiding pimps, guys who wanted to use me on their terms, get me hooked on drugs for sex. When Mom got bad, I’d find myself places to sleep. Shelters, the park, there are places, and some of them are scary.”
“You’re a survivor.”
“I got so used to living and surviving using my brain, turning things to my advantage, people, jobs, men. I cared about the guys I slept with, but I never loved them. Closest was the KonCept founder.”
“I don’t like that guy.”
