Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty Two
Caterina
His mouth on mine is nothing like last night.
Last night was frantic and desperate, a collision of fear and fury and a need to feel something other than terror.
This is different.
This is deliberate.
This is a decision.
The kiss starts slowly. Deep and sensual, designed to make me drop my defenses one by one. His other hand is firm on my hip, holding me steady, and I am suddenly grateful for it because my knees are weak.
His mouth moves with devastating confidence, a controlled possession that is far more intoxicating than the rough desperation of the night before. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to memorize the taste of me, the feel of my lips, the way I sigh against his tongue.
My hands slide up his chest, my fingers tracing the hard muscles, the warm skin. I feel the steady beat of his heart under my palm, a rhythm that calms me even as it stirs me up.
He breaks the kiss, but only to trail his lips down my jaw, my throat. I drop my head back and give him access.
“Adrian,” I whisper.
His response is a low growl against my skin that makes my whole body clench.
His mouth moves lower, to the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder. He licks me and has my toes curling into the rug.
Then he bites me.
Not hard. Just a little sting of teeth.
I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
My pussy clenches, a wave of wetness flooding me.
"Shh." It's a gentle vibration against my skin. "You have to be quiet, Caterina."
Quiet. Right.
Why again?
He soothes the bite with a soft kiss, and I melt.
"You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?"
My mind is a fog of desire, but the question finally penetrates.
No.
I don't want to get caught. My father, uncles, brothers. All in the house. All armed. That would be a disaster.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
His hands move, one sliding up my back, the other down to cup my bottom, pulling me flush against him.
I can feel all of him now.
Hot and hard against my stomach. But still through the towel.
What the hell kind of towel is this? It needs to go. Now.
But before I can do anything about it, his other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back. His eyes are dark, fathomless pools of desire, and all thoughts flee.
"You are so beautiful," he says, and my breath catches.
It's not the first time I've heard that. It's not the first time I've been naked in a man's arms and heard that either.
But coming from Adrian, it's different. He's not just looking at me as some beautiful conquest. He's looking at me like he sees me. All of me. The casino queen, the daughter, the woman who was scared, the woman who is brave now.
His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "And so much trouble."
I manage a small smile. "You have no idea."
"Oh, I think I'm starting to get an idea," he says, and then he's kissing me again.
This kiss is deeper, more demanding. It's a promise of what's to come.
I meet him, kiss for kiss. I pour everything I feel into this kiss. The fear, the anger, the frustration, and, most of all, this overwhelming, undeniable want.
My body is on fire for him. My skin is tight, my nipples are hard, and the ache between my legs is becoming unbearable.
I need more.
I need him.
My hands go to the towel.
This time, he doesn't stop me.
I pull the knot, and it falls away.
I feel his cock spring out and press against my stomach, hot and hard.
I break the kiss and look down.
He is beautiful.
Long, thick, and proud. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip. I can't resist. I reach out and wrap my hand around him.
He muffles a groan against my neck, and I feel him twitch in my hand.
"Caterina," he breathes.
"Shhh," I whisper, echoing his own words back to him.
I start to move my hand, slowly, learning the feel of him. He is hard as steel, but the skin is so soft.
His hands are on my hips, his grip tight, like he's holding on for dear life.
I look up at him.
His eyes are closed, his face a mask of pleasure.
A wave of power washes over me. Me, Caterina Conti, who's spent the last few weeks, especially the last couple of days, feeling powerless, now have this strong, capable, dangerous man at my mercy.
I smile, a slow, satisfied smile.
I catch sight of his wound again, and my smile dims just a bit. As much as I want to drive him crazy, we have to be careful. I don't want to hurt him.
My movements become even more deliberate, gentler.
His breathing is ragged.
I can feel the tension coiling in him.
I speed up my movements, my grip firming.
"Caterina," he warns, his voice strained.
"I want to feel you come, Adrian," I whisper.
His whole body tenses, and his hand goes to my wrist again, stopping me.
"Not yet," he says, and before I can protest, he has me in his arms.
I gasp, my arms going around his neck to steady myself as he lifts me like I weigh nothing.
"Adrian! Your side!" I whisper harshly.
"I'm fine," he grits out, but I see the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and I know he's not. He's pushing himself, for me.
The thought makes my chest ache.
He carries me to the bed, laying me down gently. He stands over me for a moment, his gaze sweeping over my body, hot and possessive.
I've never felt so exposed, or so safe.
He lies down beside me, careful not to put any pressure on his wound.
"You're sure about this?" he asks, and I love him for it. For giving me one last out.
I answer by putting my hands on his shoulders and gently guiding him back against the pillows, careful of his injured side. I straddle him, hovering just above him.
I am in control.
I am not a victim.
I am not a prize to be won.
I am Caterina Conti.
And I want this.
I lean down and kiss him, deliberately keeping things slow and easy. It doesn't stop the heat from growing between us.
His hands are on my waist, his thumbs stroking circles on my skin.
I can feel him, hard and ready, just beneath me.
I move against him, a slow, deliberate drag of my soaking pussy against his length.
He groans, the sound swallowed by my kiss.
I do it again.
And again.
My own arousal is building to a fever pitch. Every drag against him sends a jolt of pleasure through me. My clit is throbbing, a needy, insistent pulse.
I am so close.
I am so lost.
I break the kiss, my head dropping to his shoulder as I grind against him, seeking the friction I so desperately need.
"That's it, baby, take what you need," he murmurs, his hands tightening on my hips, helping me move. "Make yourself come with my cock. Just like that."
The words, the raw, filthy praise in that low, controlled voice of his, are really doing it for me, which shocks me. I've never been one for dirty talk.
But this is different.
This is Adrian. Everything has been different with Adrian so far. Why not this?
I can feel the tension low in my belly, pulling tighter and tighter with each movement. My movements become more frantic, my breath hitching.
"Adrian," I gasp. "I'm... I'm..."
"Your pussy feels so good, Cat. So wet. So hot." His voice is low and deep, like velvet against my skin. "I can't wait to be inside you, but right now, I want to feel your clit rub against me until you come all over my cock. I want to feel you soak me with that sweet cunt."
A string of Italian leaves my lips, my body arching as the pleasure crests and breaks. My orgasm washes over me in a wave so intense I can't breathe. I bury my face in his neck to muffle my cries as my body trembles and shudders.
He holds me through it, his hands stroking my back, murmuring soft words of praise.
When I finally float back down, I am boneless, my limbs heavy.
I lift my head and look at him.
His eyes are dark, his expression a mixture of awe and raw, naked hunger.
"Okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough.
I nod, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across my face. "Very okay."
"Good," he says, running his fingers through my hair, pressing my face to his chest at the same time. I nuzzle him, taking a moment just to breathe. His scent is clean, male, and uniquely Adrian. His heartbeat is a steady, reassuring thrum against my ear.
For a few minutes, we just lie there, the silence between us comfortable, intimate.
My body is still humming with pleasure, but the urgency has receded, replaced by a softer, more tender ache.
I want this man.
I want him in a way I have never wanted anyone before.
I'm not nearly done with him yet.