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Her insides clenched around me. She was so close, her body shaking through me right before she lost all control. My beautiful mess strangled my cock with her pussy, coming so hard I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pumped into her a few more times and kissed her lips before spilling my cum inside her.
Sweaty and out of breath, she put her hands on my shoulders, dragged her fingers down my chest.
I released my hold on her throat and tilted my head back. “You’re such a good girl. I know you didn’t mean it, baby.”
Her lips brushed mine in the dark. “I like dreams like this one.”
What the fuck?
My heart sank to my stomach, her words gutting me worse than the knife. Sometimes, I wished she had finished me off. Because then I wouldn’t have had to wrestle with my feelings for her. I wouldn’t be a prisoner to her delusions that made it impossible for her to tell reality from fantasy.
“This isn’t a dream, Alex.” My fingers skated down her arms, and she shivered from my touch. “Do you feel this?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
Still inside her and semi-hard, I arched my back and rocked my hips. “You feel this, right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You feel so good, Luca.”
“Fucking hell, woman.” I reached up and swiped a handful of her curls, pulling her lips to mine. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby girl.”
After our lips separated, she yawned, her hot breath fanning across my face.
“Tired, baby?”
Alex nodded against my forehead.
“Okay, pretty girl.” I kissed her sexy lips. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
I lifted her off me, setting her onto the cushion beside me, so I could pull up my boxers and pants. She sat there, naked and still panting, like she couldn’t control her racing heart. “Just breathe, baby.” I bent forward to grab her pajamas from the floor. “You’re okay. Lift your arms for me.”
I slipped the silky top over her head and then helped her with her panties and shorts. She remained silent the entire time. And because I couldn’t see in the dark, I wondered if Alex was still with me. Or was she lost in her head?
After we were both dressed, I scooped her up from the couch and walked out of the sitting room. The music floated down the hallway, following us to the foyer. She rested her head on my chest, and her fingers splayed over my heart. I wondered if she could feel what she did to me as I climbed the stairs. My heart never beat this way for anyone else.
By the time I reached her bedroom, she was snoring softly. The lights were on in her room, and by the looks of it, Marcello had already cleaned up and changed the sheets. No more blood and reminders of the past.
I kissed her forehead and lowered her to the mattress. She looked so delicate and breakable, so damn beautiful my chest hurt.
But did our plan work?
Had we gotten through to her?
Only time would tell.
I awoke with a muscular arm draped over me. A mixture of the sea and fresh linen floated through the air. With my head on his chest, my body relaxed as I listened to his heartbeat, and the world faded for a moment. But when I looked up, it wasn’t my handsome Devil.
It was Marcello.
My Lonely Boy.
His dark blue eyes bore into mine, stripping me bare with one look. I attempted to sit up, and Marcello crushed me against his chest, holding me as if he was afraid to let go. Most mornings, I opened my eyes to find him in the armchair by the window or in bed with me. It depended on my nightmares and if I was screaming and crying.
“Marcello,” I said as I cleared the sleep from my eyes with my hand. “Did I have a nightmare?”
He brushed my curls off my forehead. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Alex.”
With Marcello, I always felt safe. I didn’t get the same sense of calm from Luca, which was strange. Marcello rocked me back to sleep in the middle of the night. He cared for me in ways Luca never had.
“I have to leave soon for a meeting,” he told me.
“Okay.” I rubbed my growling stomach. “Can you get my breakfast before you go? I’m starving.”
He removed his cell phone from his pocket and typed out a one-handed text message to the kitchen staff. I tapped on his arm, and he let me go so that I could prop myself up on a stack of pillows. My eyes swept over the room, glazed over the clean bedsheets. Heart pounding, I rechecked the white sheets. Not a drop of blood. No knife with a snake wrapped around the silver handle.
What the hell happened last night?
I had a nightmare about The Serpents and The Salvatores. Or was that real? I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers and sighed. I hated losing chunks of time and the memories I struggled to recall.
