Chapter Ten #2
I huff and walk back to the bedroom. I kind of got used to the minimal design, it makes me feel lighter, and with a little warm touch, it could even become cozy.
The day Luca lets someone in, they’ll add that extra something.
The thought saddens me a little since it will never be me.
Not in a million years. Never. Never. Fuck, it hurts.
It’s good that I didn’t unpack my bags since I’m going to leave tonight.
I look around the room, and my eyes fall on the lavender plant on the windowsill, which I discovered was Fly’s present.
It’s the only splash of color in the room—not including his accessories.
I move to the walk-in closet and look at the somber dark suits and shirts lined up.
Next to them, all the neckties hang from the tie rack.
All the shades of a rainbow and different bold patterns: geometric, plain, paisley, novelty.
They feel so soft under my fingers. One of them is in the shape of a snake.
I fucking love this about him, how the no-nonsense, rough, temperamental giant has a thing for eccentric accessories.
I heard somewhere that a matching tie and pocket square is a no-no—I open the long drawer filled with hankies—the goal is to create harmony between them, by allowing colors to complement one another. Luca certainly knows how to do that.
I should have bought something he could look at for his birthday.
Like that plant. But would he even have kept it?
I’m still the son of the man who sent his father to jail to die and the half-brother of the psycho who murdered his mother and left him for dead.
That’s what he sees when he looks at me.
A long, hopeless sigh leaves my lips as I turn around and stride back into the bedroom.
Nacho is playing with Luca’s sock—my furry baby is not going to like leaving here.
I move to the nightstand to grab a Butterfinger, but my gaze finds Luca’s necklace in a small ceramic tray.
It’s still broken. My fingers brush over the pendant.
The Archangel Michael is a protector just like Luca is, the killer of evil.
Maybe I can show him my gratitude if I fix the necklace.
Maybe I can make the shop deliver it here. And maybe he’d contact me after?
The temptation is too strong, and without a second thought, I grab it and put it in the duffel bag’s pocket. Then I move to the laundry basket and grab a couple of his dirty shirts and stuff them inside too. It’s stupid, but I want to take his scent with me. I add a couple of socks for Nacho.
Luca said to get my ass sloppy and ready for when he comes back after lunch.
So I start preparing myself. I take a very long bath, apply the apple body cream he seems to love, and then choose the sluttiest, sultriest lingerie Fly gave me.
A black crotchless bodysuit with a fishnet waist and lace-front panties.
The see-through halter-neck cups end in an elastic neck strap that I’m looking forward to him pulling on as he rides me.
It feels incredible on my skin and looks even better on me.
I cover it with a white nightgown made of silk and then do my hair and makeup.
When I’m done, it’s time for lunch. Carlo waves at the bag on the coffee table before he closes the front door behind him.
Is he going to be the one I need to trick later?
Damn it, I hope it won’t be him. He’s my favorite guard.
I only eat half a bowl of spaghetti. My father’s voice is still echoing inside my head as I brush my teeth.
I can’t shake off the anxiety. It’s clinging to me, mixed with an ominous feeling.
I’m actually terrified by my emotions. They are so deep that their roots have more hidden roots.
I hear the front door opening and closing.
Then footsteps coming closer and closer until Luca’s massive figure appears on the bathroom threshold—followed by a barking Nacho.
He lets his gaze slide up and down my body and then focuses it on my face. “What happened?”
I’m a little more than vexed by the fact that he didn’t even show a smidge of appreciation for my look. But the care he’s showing toward me soothes the irritation.
“Enzino?”
I huff. He used my given name before. So why does he keep calling me that? To infuriate me? It’s like he’s trying to put a wall between us. Of course he is. Can I blame him?
“So? I’m waiting.” The arrogant dick sounds impatient—patting my dog on the head to make him stop jumping.
Can he read my face now? Perceptive, Captain-America-chested bastard. Wrong analogy. What’s the name of a brawny villain? Because as sure as fuck, Luca Nero is no hero, not even an anti-hero.
“You didn’t finish lunch,” he insists. Then his hand lifts and his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth. Toothpaste. Instead of wiping it off on a towel, he sucks it off his finger.
The mundane gesture gives more room to the deep sadness inside my chest. Because this, this closeness will end tonight. My body seems to want to linger in front of him, but I won’t be able to hide my inner struggle much longer. I try to pass by him and out of the bathroom, but he blocks me.
“You get a deep line between your eyebrows when your mind goes somewhere you don’t want it to. What is it?” His hand grips my chin.
“A wrinkle?” I exclaim, turning toward the mirror over the sink to check. “No, I don’t, you dick.”
“Now you have two.” I can see his derisive brow lifting in the reflection. His hand wraps around my neck, thumb brushing my chin.
“Talk.” He sounds adamant.
My pulse kicks up a notch. Why one fucking word in that supercilious, presumptuous, maddening tone, and I feel the urge to tell him everything? Not a chance.
“Fuck you!” It turns my face to look straight into his eyes. This is us, isn’t it? We insult each other. Can’t stand one another. We fight, we hate-fuck.
“I will be doing that as soon as you talk to me, Art,” he growls my name finally.
I heard him on the phone the other morning, talking to Fly.
His voice softened slightly. I want my name to come out of his mouth with that much care.
His thumb is stroking my lower lip now. Green eyes darting between mine.
Waiting for me to explain all these confusing feelings I have wrapped tightly together.
When what I really want to say is, like me.
It sounds like a plea inside my head. I’m two seconds away from saying it, but I tighten my lips because once that gets out, there’s no taking it back.
The entirety of my childhood, I thought I was unlovable, so growing up, I promised myself never to get close to anyone, never to get hurt.
If he rejects me, I feel like the damage would be so much worse than the physical wounds he could inflict on me. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.
So I state, “Nothing.”
“You have a knack for driving people crazy,” he huffs.
“Only you, pookie.” I force my lips to curl, wearing my careless mask.
That seems to anger him. His eyebrows bunch and his eyes darken. “You don’t need to pretend with me! Stop faking it, I fucking hate it.”
I gasp. Why is he doing this to me? He’s making me hope again.
“So fucking stubborn!” I hear him mutter before he hoists me on his shoulder.
The world goes upside down, reminding me of the day we met.
But this time, I don’t fight it—on the contrary, I enjoy feeling his hand sliding up my thigh and over my ass cheek, his scent entering my nostrils and spreading in my lungs, the feel of his wide back against my front.
His grunt of desire before he drops me on the bed.
The nightgown parts, showing him the see-through bodysuit.
He swears under his breath and then comes down on me, sucking on my nipples through the flimsy fabric, pulling on my piercing, grabbing my ass, groaning as he feels the wetness near my hole.
His incredible dick is stroking against mine, slow, hard thrusts that make me see stars.
My shaft hardens so quickly that I go lightheaded.
My hands are inside the back of his shirt, in his hair, on his jacket-clad biceps, anywhere I can touch him.
He’s covering my body in marks with his tongue, lips, and teeth.
I moan and moan, encouraging him to leave more.
I need him to fill me up and then fuck my used hole until I’ll be able to feel him for days when I’m gone.
Joy and sorrow don’t stand at opposite ends. They can be felt together at once, and too deeply to ever recover. I want to become one with him today, even if the memory will hurt for years to come.
I spread my legs wider, then lace our hands, palm to back and push one of my fingers with one of his inside me. The pleasure of feeling us in me together brings tears to my eyes.
“You’re still sopping wet from my cum,” he growls with satisfaction.
It makes me shiver all over as he takes control of our fingers and thrusts inside me, rough and firm.
He pours some lube on my entrance and thumbs it in, getting me fuller, setting my insides on fire.
I’m already so close, I’ve been on edge since I prepped myself.
I grab the sheets in my fist, fucking myself on our fingers, almost feeling it. It’s right there…
He suddenly grabs my hip and slides our fingers free from my body.
I cry out, feeling robbed of my bliss. I lift my head, eyes glaring, as he’s taking off his jacket.
He drops it on the floor, his blue necktie goes next, then his shirt.
That hairy chest makes me spring up and reach for his pants as I nuzzle his pecs and bite on his nipple.
He hisses and pulls my head back, grabbing my hair.
“How sore do you want to be tomorrow?” he asks as I unbutton his pants. I pull his dick out, spitting on it and pumping the thick shaft with both hands.