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Silently, I consider what his plans are today. If he’ll be gone, then maybe I can check his room again. There must be a set of keys around here somewhere, but I have a feeling they’re with Angelina or Manuel, and the likelihood of getting them is nonexistent.
Once Nino is finished with his meal, we retreat from the dining room. Manuel and I usher him to school uneventfully, and when I return, I find that Alessio is, in fact, gone. However, when I make my way up to the third level, his door is still locked. I stand there for several minutes, staring at it in frustration. That lock represents more than just the threat of discovery. It also represents Alessio’s feelings. He has a lock around his heart too, and if I’m naïve enough to believe for a second that what happened between us might change anything, then I deserve to be caught.
With a sigh, I go back to my room and spend the afternoon considering my escape. It has to be done. I can’t stay here in limbo forever, but my choices now are different. I’ll either have to hurt the man I have obviously come to care about or leave loose ends that will probably tie a noose around my neck.
The rest of the day passes slowly. I help Nino with his homework and put him to bed early since he can barely keep his eyes open. Once I’m back in my room, going through my nightly ritual, part of me hopes I’ll open my eyes again to find Alessio standing behind me, but it doesn’t happen. So instead, I crawl into bed and touch myself while I think about him. I come, but it’s not the same. The last thought I have before I drift off is if he’ll be touching himself too.
Something stirs me from my sleep, and I don’t know what it is. Only a feeling. Slowly, I sit upright, recognizing the silhouette of the man standing at the end of my bed. He’s watching me, silent, like the predator he is. That’s the dichotomy of Alessio Scarcello. As lethal as he can be, there’s another side of him. One that seems less nurtured. More innocent, sometimes awkward, and endearing in his own way.
I know what he’s doing here. Before, when I found him standing at the end of my bed, I knew he had probably come to kill me. Tonight, his intentions are of a different nature. I should send him away. After last night, it became clear to me what this is to him. The smartest thing to do would be to protect my heart before I entangle myself any deeper. Still, I can’t. I don’t want to.
Wordlessly, I pull back the covers to welcome him in. He stays there for a moment, lingering on the threshold of uncertainty himself. I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts and shimmy out of them, and I swear I can hear his heart beating from where I sit. In the end, it appears we are both afflicted by the same condition. He comes to me willingly, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his trousers.
Tonight, he doesn’t say a word. He lowers his body over mine, spreading my legs apart and rolling his hard cock against me. His fingers tangle in my hair. His lips meet mine, and we kiss. We kiss like it’s the first time. I get lost in his scent, his warmth, his weight pressing down on me. I dig my fingers into his back, and he kisses his way from my lips down to my breast while his hand settles between us, teasing me with several long strokes before he nudges his cock inside of me. I arch up into him, sucking in a breath as he fills me. I’m still sensitive from the night before, and I can feel every agonizing inch of him.
He tilts my chin, and when I open my eyes to look up at him, I wonder what he sees. What’s going through his mind when he looks at me? When he kisses me? His lips graze my jaw as his body stays completely still above me. He brushes my hair back with his fingers and rolls his hips slightly, a test. My body has relaxed around him, and now, where there was pressure, there is only pleasure.
I arch my hips up to greet him, and he groans as he thrusts deep. I drag his face back to mine and kiss my way over his jaw, down his neck to where his pulse beats. The very place I foolishly believed I could bleed him dry. Now, I’m worshipping that vitality.
For a moment, I fantasize about what it would be like to confess that sin to him. In my mind’s scenario, he tells me he doesn’t care. He tells me he’ll protect me, and I’m safe with him. I wonder if he can feel it too, in this silent declaration he’s making with every thrust. Every shuddered breath.
