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It was like my skin was singing under his hands as he pulled my dress over my head. I wasn’t wearing anything beneath and he shot me a hot gaze, his sea green eyes fierce. “You really were hoping to hook up tonight, weren’t you?” he asked.
“With you,” I admitted. When I’d been getting dressed, I’d just been in a rage of jealousy and worry. If he really had taken home that brunette, I didn’t know what I would have done. Probably punched her just like Rocco did to the guy I almost kissed.
“I’m glad it was you,” Rocco said sweetly, and I wanted to say more, wanted to tell him I didn’t just want to be friends, that we should be together, but I choked it back. That wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted to be friends, and I should understand that. We just couldn’t help being possessive over each other, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
Rocco got to his knees in the grass and I kneeled too, lying down and feeling the green blades slide against my skin. It was damp from the rain earlier. Rocco unbuttoned his shirt and discarded it, and I thought that would be an awful dry-cleaning bill because of all the grass stains, but he didn’t seem to care. “Are you ready for me,stellina?” he asked.
I spread my thighs. “See for yourself,” I said softly, and he groaned low in his throat, almost like a growl, sliding his fingers along my lower lips before pressing two of them inside of me. I gasped, spreading my legs further. “I’m ready, Rocco,” I said impatiently, wanting him inside me.
“Always ready for me, my dirty girl,” Rocco crooned, pumping his fingers faster. “I want to taste you, but I don’t think I can wait.” He grunted and removed his fingers from me to unbuckle his pants and take himself out, looking big and heavy. I licked my lips and spread my legs even further, trying to wrap them around his waist; but he didn’t let me, instead looping my knees around his biceps and pressing inside of me. It was deeper like this, with him holding my legs up, and I gasped with pleasure and pain as his cock dragged against my womb.
It felt intense but good when he started to roll his hips, fucking me hard and fast. I moaned so loudly that if anyone were around, they’d know exactly what we were doing. Rocco looked down at my breasts bouncing and cursed under his breath. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he said, and the praise filled me with pleasure and something else, something like longing. I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted him all the time, not just part-time, and I wanted him to stay with me and Matteo.
“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.” He didn’t stop, in fact, speeding up the pace, and I orgasmed so hard around him that black spots appeared behind my eyelids as I squeezed them shut.
Rocco put his hand around my throat, squeezing lightly, and I moaned and opened my eyes. “Look at me when you’re coming,” he said. “Want you to know who’s fucking you this good.”
I swallowed hard as he squeezed slightly and thought I was going to come again, but then he froze, his hips stuttering as he came.
“God,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
“Me either,” Rocco agreed, pulling out and handing me my dress.
I slid it back on, my cheeks flushed. I put it back on quickly, because I could hear cars in the distance. I didn’t want to be caught red-handed. “What are we gonna do, Rocco?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he retrieved his shirt, which was indeed grass-stained. “We just have to try and stay away from each other,” he mumbled.
My heart sank. Part of me was hoping he’d say he wanted me, that he wanted to be with me and Matteo forever. Part of me had been praying for it, if I was honest with myself. As we headed back to the car, I wondered how this would play out. How would it end up? Would he go back to Enzo’s, meet some girl and bring her to dinner, to meet Matteo? Would I try and date someone and Rocco would lose it? How were we going to do this? It seemed impossible, and I wished that I had someone to talk to. I thought about Martina, that even though she wasn’t a close friend, maybe I could call her.
When we arrived home, I went straight up to my room and called. Martina picked up on the first ring. “Are you out at a club?” she asked.
“No, just left,” I said, knowing she’d be disappointed.
“And you didn’t invite me?” she pouted.
“What about you? Where are you?” I asked suspiciously.
“An afterparty,” she admitted.
I laughed. “Well, I just wanted to talk. Do you have a minute?” I asked.
“For you, sure, Allegra,” she said cheerily. She didn’t seem too intoxicated, and I really just needed a sounding board anyway. I explained the whole situation to her. She was silent for a long moment on the other end of the line. “Jesus fucking Christ, Allegra,” she muttered. “You’ve been through a lot in just a short amount of time.”
I barked out a laugh. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it, but it’s been a wild ride.”
“You need some time to decompress,” she said.
“I don’t think I know how to decompress,” I admitted.
“Maybe spend some time in the pool,” she suggested. I used to be a swimmer, swimming laps in my father’s indoor pool all day, but lately I hadn’t been doing much physical activity at all.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But what do I do about Rocco?”
“I can’t believe you never told me you had a kid,” she accused, and I did feel a little bad. Martina wasn’t that close to me, but she was probably the closest thing to a best friend I had. I spent most of my time with Matteo or my father, and I didn’t get out much. She’d been the only person I’d had to talk to or to go out with outside my family for years.
“You’ve got to cut him off,” she said. “Just don’t let him kiss you or touch you. You’re addicted to him, girly, and you’ve got to go cold turkey.”
I groaned but I knew she was right. “It’s just so hard,” I complained.
