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“I thought we didn’t talk about your business?”
“This is different and you know it.” I tilt my head and give her a stern look.
“How?”
“Because this could have had us killed.”
“As could anything in your line of work! We are moving targets, Nico, and I knew that since I didn’t do what he asked he was going to kill me. And I wanted to breathe and see what life was like free for just a moment, and I saw that in you. Now, I don’t know what I see!” She stands and moves to the bedroom.
I follow her, hot on her heels. “Or you could have told me sooner, and he would've already been dealt with,” I retort.
She turns and pierces me with a look.“I don’t know what I’m doing! I've been controlled my whole life, and then I was with you, and we were arguing and having beautiful sex I just thought was lustful hate, but it was really our way of communicating our wonderment and excitement for one another. I was falling for you, and nothing felt like it was going to get in the way.” I can tell she wants to throw, hit, or break something, but she holds it all in.
“I felt free, and I wanted to revel in that. I had a voice. I could tell you how angry I was. I could speak without being hurt. We may not have had the perfect start, and we may not have been playing twenty fucking questions, but you were learning me, and I was learning how to be alive. You were giving me space to breathe and live for the first time, Nico.”
Each word is filled with pain, and I feel her hurt in my soul, the way she whimpered every other word out of that sentence.
It was true though. We weren’t getting to know each other in the conventional way, but we were getting to know each other in a way that was unique, freeing, and new to us both. We created our own fucking love language.
“You’re right. I fucked up. I’m sorry. But we can’t act like this didn’t happen, and we can’t let your father do this to us. He can’t take you like he took the only other people I loved. I won’t let him have you, Emelia.” This time, my voice cracks.
Fuck. I don’t cry. I never have. Not even at their funerals. But for her, for Emelia, I would crawl on hands and knees and beg for her to love me. To take me as hers. To own me.
“Youalmost took you from me, Nico! You almost pulled that trigger and took away the one person who sees me. Who knows I exist. How could you do that to me?” She sits on the edge of the bed, and I do exactly what I knew I would.
I drop to my knees in front of her and beg for her forgiveness.
“I’m sorry. I will say it a thousand times if I need to, but I am sorry, Emelia. And we are here. Breathing still. I’m at your feet, and you have me, baby.”
She nods into her hands.“I will make you say it every day. Every day, you will apologize for ever doing that to me.” She grabs my face and pulls me onto her, and I nod.
“Every day. You and me.” We kiss, our tongues colliding, and I apologize. I say sorry so many times for the entire next hour.
“So beautiful, baby.”
She rides me slowly, and I rub her thighs gently. We have been at it this whole hour, and I can’t stop having her. I have held off my orgasm, making sure she has plenty before I take mine. Besides, there is pleasure in watching her take hers. I would argue it's better than my own orgasm. I roam from her thighs to the thick, plush softness of her stomach. I knead the skin there. Every inch of her is breathtaking, especially from this angle, because I can see almost all of her.
“Say it again,” she whispers, rocking her hips.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“In Italian.”
“Mi dispiace tanto, piccola mia.”
She smiles, biting her lip. The tears have long gone, and that spark in her eye slowly returns.
“Come for me, my love. Come inside me!” she cries out.
“You need that? Do you need me to come to feel me, baby?” She smiles again and nods. “Good girl. Can I take control?”
“Always,il mio re,” she practically purrs, and I don’t think I'll need to after that.
“Scream that while you ride me good, principessa.”
She braces her hands on my chest and starts to rock harder, alternating between that and her rise and fall, and I am there.
“Il mio re!” she screams, coming with me.
