AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But you’re the one who does all the talking,” I say, my fingers clasping him. The tight burst of tension disappears as Luca responds instantly.
“Oh my God,” he laughs as he tugs on my shoulders, bringing me closer. “You’re amazing,” he moans as I press my hips up and his head tips back. “You’re so fucking amazing.”
The tenderness of the moment is swept away as he uses my shoulder to hike himself up, the hot slide of his ass stealing all of my senses. When he lets go, releases all his weight to drop down on my cock so solidly his eyes roll back into his head, I know I never want to leave him.
His back arches as he gives me one of his full grins as he rises again. This time I rock my hips, meeting his rhythm, the chair groaning under our weight, its front legs banging on the floor each time Luca crashes into me and I bury my cock inside him.
I try not to disturb my neighbours when I am home, and make as little noise as possible, apart from when I'm working out. I hope they assume I'm using the treadmill next to the bathroom extra hard…while crying out my own name…
Luca moans as he sinks onto me, and I move with him. If I ever had to paint a picture of happiness, it would be this.
A year ago, we were on set, and I was doing everything I could to speak to him properly without collapsing, unable to interpret his frustration with me. And now we’re making love in my kitchen, and I can talk to him properly and even turn him on with my words. But I can't say the thing that means the most to me.
I close my eyes, loving how warm his body is over mine. I slip one hand down his thigh, hooking it under his knee to lift his leg high, spreading him to find the right angle to make him cry my name even louder. I just have to hold him and he will stay close to me like this.
My eyes shoot open, but Luca isn't looking at me. His gaze is over my shoulder, and I wonder if he's going to reach for the lube again.
“Thorn?” My heart leaps at the crinkle in Luca’s brow. I can tell something is wrong. He stops moving, even rocking his hips despite being rooted deep on my cock. “What’s that?” he asks, leaning back, his hips arching.
Twisting my head, I follow his gaze to the cabinet under my kitchen window.
I bend over, hiding myself in Luca’s chest, struggling as the air is punched out of my lungs.
I've made a horrible mistake.
The worst thing I could have done.
Blood floods my face, my veins burn as horror plunges through me, bile rising in the back of my throat.
I wheeze as I realise I didn't find everything when I was cleaning.
Tucked between my cookery books sits an A5 light blue picture frame I painted myself.
Shame flushes through me, squeezing my eyes closed in painful embarrassment. I didn't want him to know. I didn't want him to see.
Even though I'm buried inside him, clinging to him, desperate to move, I'm the one who wants to run away.
I grit my jaw at his shuddered breath, praying for some way out of this.
“Baby,” Luca’s voice lowers as I swing my gaze back to his and he sees the truth splattered on my face. “Is that a picture of me?”
Luca
It isn’t just a picture of me. It’s a picture of an ad I did for Heinz, where I’m standing by a fucking stove. As if I’m cooking with whoever’s viewing the advert. As if I’m cooking with Thorn as he has his breakfast or his lunch or whatever the fuck he does when he sits in the seat on the chair on my right and looks at the photo propped up on the shelf across from him.
It’s an advert I did three years ago. Before I met Thorn. Before I even knew he existed. It was just some shitty promo that they paid me so much money for that there wasn’t a single chance I was saying no, even though it was cheesy as fuck. It came and went and everyone moved on. I wanted to forget it so badly I removed it from my portfolio when the term was over. And no one gave a single shit about it.
Apart from my boyfriend, apparently.
“Thorn,” I say carefully, arching my back, grinding my hips to force him to focus, pulling myself even closer to him. “How long have you had that photo?”
He drops his head to my shoulder, his forehead pressing firmly against me, groaning, avoiding me as my body shakes.
“A while,” he says, clearing his throat. My chest tightens so hard I can barely get a word out. I can already feel those dreaded fucking emotions swelling inside me.
I should stop. I should fucking stop asking because I’m getting close to something that scares me too much to really say, even with Thorn.
But I’m holding him, my arms draped around his shoulders, his cock deep inside me, staring wide-eyed at this fucking picture as he meets the drop of my hips with a surge of his own.
