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I can feel myself flushing hot with shame and rage and humiliation. I’d comesoclose to pleading for him to keep going, to make me come—hell, for a minute I’d even fantasized about what his tongue might feel like, or even—
No.I’ll never let him have that. I’ll never let him inside of me. If I have my way, he’ll never even touch me like that again.
But even as I stand up, pushing my dress down and walking gingerly towards my room, I can’t stop thinking about the way his fingers felt against me. He played me as expertly as an instrument, drawing his fingers over my flesh the way I draw my bow across my violin, bringing me to the very crescendo of pleasure before taking it away.
And then spilling his own all over me.
I can feel my eyes welling up with hot, embarrassed tears. I can feel him on me still, sticky and cooling as I strip my dress off in my room without even turning on the lights, throwing it into the laundry hamper and hurrying to the bathroom. I feel dirty now, humiliated, but I hadn’t felt that way in the moment. When he’d stood over me just after pulling his hand away, I’d just been overwhelmed with pleasure, flushed hot with it, and the thought of him stroking himself above me had almost turned me on more, until I’d thought I might come anyway, even without his touch.
I’d been on the verge of finishing it myself, but something had told me that would only make him angrier.
That, and the fact that I refused to give him a show. Never in a million years can I imagine myself doing that for his pleasure, touching myself while he watches. Just the thought makes me blush from my forehead to my toes all over again.
But you wanted it,the tiny voice in my head whispers as I step under the water.You wanted him to make you come. You liked how it felt.
“No,” I whisper, gritting my teeth. I don’t want to admit it to myself, not out loud and not even in my head. I don’t want to admit that his fingers felt a thousand times better than mine ever have, that the way he built it up, slow and teasing, murmuring filthy things above me as he held me down over his couch, was so intensely erotic that I’d been more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I don’t want to admit that I’d liked being pinned down, unable to argue, made to give in to the craving that’s been simmering inside of me since he had me up against his front door.
I don’t want to admit that for just a moment, at the height of it, I’d wondered what it would feel like to let him take my virginity. Toreallymake me his, in a way that his fingers on me or his cum on my skin could never really accomplish.
Although right now, washing him off of me in the shower, I feel pretty fuckingowned.
And a tiny part of me, one that I don’t want to examine too closely, likes it.
What would it be like to be really desired and loved by, really belong to a man like Luca?I’d never have to be afraid again. I’d never worry that he’d get tired of my rebelliousness, my stubborn refusal to give in, that he’d decide I was more work than I was worth. I could stop running, which if I’m being honest, is what I’ve been doing all my life. Planning to leave Manhattan after graduation was just a different kind of running away. Running from my past, my memories, all the things I didn’t fully understand about my childhood and who my father really was.
Those answers are here. Safety is here too, if I allow myself to accept it.
But I don’t just want Luca’s tolerance. I don’t want to give myself to him only to have him tuck me away in another apartment like a discarded sweater, a game he’s already played, a story that he already knows the ending to.
There was a moment, a brief one, at the reception. One where I’d caught a glimpse of what it would be like if we were a normal couple, if we were getting married out of love instead of obligation.
Luca introduced me to his best friend, and Caterina’s fiancé, a handsome red-haired, green-eyed man named Franco Bianchi—the only name I’d remembered—with pale skin and a freckled face that looked nothing like the other members of the family I’d met.
“Is he Irish?” I’d whispered when we’d walked away to find our seat at the table, and for the first time since I’d met Luca, I saw him struggle not to burst out laughing.
For the first time, I saw him as almost human.
In that moment, I’d caught a glimpse of what it would be like if we actually liked each other—even cared for each other. What it would be like to be married to him in some other reality, where we’d chosen this, and he wasn’t heir to the mafia throne and everything that I despised, everything that took my parents from me. I could imagine, in that fleeting second, what it would be like to be at a party with Luca, whispering something inappropriate in his ear and watching him try not to laugh.
I saw the same realization in his eyes, too, when he looked over at me. The realization that I’d almost made him laugh—that I was a person, someone who he might actually like, if he took the time to get to know me.
Just as quickly as it had come, though, the moment had passed.
“Don’t ever say that in his hearing,” Luca had replied sharply—more sharply, probably, than he would have if we hadn’t ever so briefly shared a moment. “It’s a point of contention within the family. But no, he’s not.”
And with that, the subject had been dropped.
But I’d realized something in that moment, the same thing that I know now, standing in the shower and trying to shake off the memory of what just happened in his living room.
If I let him have me,allof me, I’d want him to love me.
And that’s the most humiliating thing of all.
Because I don’t think Luca Romano can love anyone.
When I’m clean again, the last traces of him washed off my skin, my hair sticking wetly to my shoulders, I get out and wrap a towel around myself, stepping out of the bathroom with a heavy heart.
If tomorrow were a normal wedding, I’d be spending this night away from our shared apartment, in some fancy hotel room with my bridesmaids. Ana and I would be laughing about something—probably her insisting on joking and teasing me about the upcoming wedding night. I’d be happy, joyful, anticipating one of the best days of my life.
