14. Vincenzo
VINCENZO
I sit up slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. The apartment is dim, the haze of middle-night graying the windows. For a second, I think I imagined the crying. Then I hear it again—a broken breath, a tremor in the dark.
I stand without making a sound. The couch creaks under my weight, but nothing else stirs. Her bedroom door is cracked an inch, the light inside faint. I move toward it with slow, controlled steps, then I push it open with two fingers.
Alessia is curled into herself on the far side of the bed, knees drawn up, one arm shielding her face. The other is clenched in the sheets and her shoulders are shaking.
For a second, my mind runs through the worst-case scenarios. If someone hurt her, if someone got past me, I’ll never forgive myself. And Gordo? Gordo will make sure I never draw another breath. He may not have sent me here at all, but men are fiercely protective of their daughters and wives.
But there’s no blood. No signs of a break-in. Just Alessia, breaking apart under her covers over something that's tormenting her in her mind. I stand there watching for a moment, listening to her soft sobs and stuttered breaths, unaware that her eyes are open and she can see me.
She turns her head slightly when I shift my weight to lean on the door frame. "I’m fine," she says, voice raw and tight. She doesn’t lift her head or chase me away, but she pulls the blanket higher like it might shield her from my presence. "You don’t have to?—"
"Don’t lie," I say softly. My hand lingers on the doorframe, but I take a step into her room to close the distance between us.
When she was terrified last week, I was the one she called for comfort, and tonight she cries alone.
That fact doesn't escape me. But then, I'm not the sort of guy who offers a shoulder to cry on very often.
When I walk toward the bed, she doesn’t argue, doesn’t sit up or try to pull herself together to dissuade me. She lies there limp with her strength drained, and I perch on the edge of the mattress, knowing that I won't get back to sleep again tonight.
Several seconds pass in the silence, and then she lifts one hand toward me, palm open in the space between us. It's not just a gesture, it's an answer to the question I didn’t ask. I move before I think. I take off my jeans and slide in behind her. I don’t ask questions or press her to explain.
Curling around her, I breathe her in, and when her fingers find mine, I let her pull me closer.
The mattress dips beneath my weight, and for a moment neither of us says anything.
Her back is to me, but I feel every tremor that moves through her frame.
She doesn’t resist. If anything, she presses closer.
I feel her breaths slow against my chest. Her hand finds the fabric of my T-shirt and grips it.
There’s nothing I can say to fix whatever woke her, though I have a good idea of what it is.
She's in an impossible situation, being asked to take a side in a war that's not her own.
I can't blame her for wrestling with it, and if it were up to me, I would destroy the entire world to set her free.
But all I can do is hold her.
The minutes stretch, long and quiet. I lie still, focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body against mine.
Outside, the city begins to wake. The early drone of traffic builds beneath the apartment window.
Her trembling slows gradually until the tension leaves her shoulders and she lies still in my arms.
When she finally speaks, her voice is soft enough I almost miss it. "I don't think I can handle this." She turns her chin upward so our eyes meet.
I tighten my hold. "You don’t have to do it alone." I press my palm flat against her back, feeling the shallow rise and fall of each breath.
She exhales slowly, then whispers, "Bernardi cornered me again. He said the 416-bis investigation is reviewing my toxicology work. I panicked. I didn’t lie, exactly, but I manipulated the results. Stalled for time." Her words tremble as much as her body did earlier.
I brush my thumb along her spine. "I can’t buy you time, Alessia. All I can do is promise to back you up if you do what’s right—for your family, and for yourself."
She shifts in the silence that follows, then turns fully into me and kisses me softly.
At first I think of pushing her away, of shaking her and reminding her how dangerous this is.
I may be watching her, following her around town, but I can't be with her every second of the day.
And what happened to Leo—how I found him gutted behind the lab in a puddle of his own blood, urine, and feces—it could happen to her.
But I kiss her back with equal pressure instead, because I'll never coerce her into anything. Gordo tried that and she ran from him. I won't do that to her. But I will do my damnedest to try to show her the light.
Our bodies fit together effortlessly as if they were meant to be intertwined like this.
I deepen the kiss, my hands gripping her hips to bring her closer as our tongues dance in heated strokes.
Her hands roam up my back, entangling in my hair, her nails raking against my scalp in a delicious torture.
With a muffled moan, she grinds against my thigh, and I feel myself starting to swell.
Her scent inflames my senses further, clouding any remaining sense of self-preservation or restraint I have.
Starting my day with a good fuck has never been so tempting, and I don’t even fight the sense that I should be getting up and heading out.
I pull her on top of me and grip her panties, sliding them down over her hips.
Alessia's breath hitches as I bare her silky thighs and part her folds, exposing her slick entrance to the cold air. Her readiness for me emboldens my desire. I drag her hips closer, rubbing my hard length against her heat, teasing us both with the anticipation of what's to come.
“Why do you want me so bad?” I grumble as she tugs at my shirt, trying to rid me of it. She gasps and snickers as I sit up and tear it off, nearly tossing her from my lap.
“Why do you keep coming back? Can’t you stay away?” she purrs, sliding her fingers into the hem of my boxers.
“Why would I want to deprive myself of this?” My lips close on hers again as I work the hem of her nightgown upward.
They break contact momentarily as I pull it over her head, and then I push her shoulders as I lie down, so the light from the city outside her window illuminates her bare skin as she straddles me.
“Make me your fuck toy, Enzo,” Alessia moans, and I have no problem doing that. I hook my thumbs in my boxers and lift my hips to shove them down, and she grunts and shifts as I peel the last remaining fabric away that separates our bodies.
It drifts to the floor, and our eyes lock in the dim light of her room. Hers are hooded with desire and a touch of defiance, as if she's daring me to do my worst. My cock twitches in anticipation, aching to be inside her again.
I tighten my grip on her hips, hoisting her higher as she positions me at her entrance.
Slowly, oh, so slowly, I press inside her willing heat, savoring the exquisite sensation of her tightness clenching around me.
Her fingers wrap around slats in the headboard above our heads as she releases a guttural moan, her hips arching back against me as she takes it all in.
She's insatiable, hungry for more of what I can give her.
And I'm all too willing to oblige. She starts grinding, tits swaying as she rocks her head back and lets her hair dangle down her back. I grip her tits hard, pearling the nipples between my fingertips. She hisses and groans as she takes control, and I let her think she’s in charge as I press a thumb to her clit and swirl it in her moisture.
Alessia's breath hitches as I pull her hair, my fingers tangling in the dark locks as she rocks back and forth, impaling herself on my cock in a relentless rhythm.
Sweat glistens on our skin, the room heavy with the scents of sex and submission.
This soft, willing act is a far cry from the feisty woman Gordo hired me to protect, but I'm not one to deny a good thing.
Her walls clench around me, squeezing me, milking me for every drop of pleasure I can give her.
"Harder," she pants, so I do as she commands, driving into her deeper and faster, our bodies slapping together with the same desperate intensity as before. Her nails rake up and down my chest, leaving stinging welts in their wake, and when I can’t take it anymore, I flip her over hard, tossing her down on the mattress.
She gasps and her eyes go wide momentarily before I flip her again so her ass is in the air and her face is buried in the pillows. I grip my cock, stroking a few times as I line up to her other hole and press there.
“I need this,” I tell her as I start pushing hard, and she grunts and spits as I thrust in.
Alessia's moans intensify, muffled by the pillow beneath her as I push further.
Her body tenses around me, walls clenching and unclenching around my thick girth.
Slowly, I ease in and out, working past her tight ring of muscles until she begins to relax.
Her moans become higher pitched and desperate, her hips rocking to meet my rhythm as I piston in and out of her firm ass.
Her hands bunch the comforter in fists at her sides, knuckles white against the black fabric.
"Oh, fuck," she gasps. "Fuck me, Enzo." As if I need any further invitation.
I press on harder and faster, smacking her ass and leaving bright red handprints beneath my fingers.
She moans and bucks against me, begging for more.
She reaches between her thighs and rubs herself, desperately trying to get release, and I pull her hair a bit harder as I pound.
"That's right… You like it rough, don't you? Beg for your reward."