Chapter 38 – Three Days Later
CHIARA
THREE DAYS LATER
“How the hell do you not know how to cook?” he asks as he takes out a pan, placing it on the stove.
“I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “I just don’t. Deal with it.”
“How have you managed to survive on your own?” he teases, unscrewing a bottle of olive oil, adding a little to the now sizzling pan.
He throws in some minced garlic and ginger, the wooden spoon in his hand as he mixes.
“Takeout. Duh.” I roll my eyes. “Sorry we don’t all have a Sonia in our back pocket.”
He chuckles. “I do cook. As you can see, she’s off today.” He winks.
“Oh, my. Your personal chef is off? Poor little you.”
“Well, she’s your chef now too, considering you live here.”
I did basically move in. He purchased me a whole new wardrobe, a new car, and everything else I might ever need.
A smile curls over my lips while I skim over his muscular arms, calling for my hands. “Lucky me.”
He pops a brow. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”
His hand stills, his gaze drinking me into the emeralds of his eyes.
“If you knew all the things I want to do to your body right here on this floor…” His jaw stiffens, making the hollows beneath his cheekbones more pronounced.
My lips turn up along with my brow. “You should probably do it, then.”
“Fuck, Chiara. I was trying to take things slow, but that’s the last thing I want to do right now.”
His words tease the space in between my thighs, giving me a little of what I crave.
He hasn’t touched me, not in that way I want him to, and three days is long enough. I need him inside me. I want to connect with him in the way only we can.
For these past few days, we’ve been holed up in his house, talking, getting to know one another, revealing everything from our past.
When he described his experiences at the homeless shelters, I was sick to my stomach. I never imagined what he endured on top of losing the people closest to him.
I don’t care what he does to my uncles. They deserve it. The blood we share no longer matters. All three of them are dead to me. I meant what I said to Dom. I hope he hurts them just as badly as they hurt him and his family.
Laura’s death still haunts me. I can’t get rid of the image of her burning alive in that car. My family has no mercy for anyone, so why should they get any in return?
Dom made a large contribution to the children’s charity her family set up in her memory. She sounded like a beautiful person, always helping others. She ran a women’s shelter for ten years. It’s no wonder she wouldn’t let me out of the car.
“Get your pretty ass over here.” He stumbles through my thoughts. “We’re cooking together.”
“Okay,” I agree, rising from the chair, strutting over to him. “But if I burn the shrimp, don’t blame me.”
He grabs my hips, pulling me flush into his solid body, his lips drifting over mine, the smell of his woodsy cologne permeating my senses.
“Don’t worry…” He leans his lips even closer, until they skim over mine. “You’ll make it up to me.”
And just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he draws back, smirking devilishly. He flips my body toward the stove, slapping my ass.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, baby.”
“Asshole,” I mutter playfully.
“Mmm, keep talking,” he groans, the hardness of his cock rocking over the small of my back.
“If you don’t stop,” I say, lifting the wooden spoon from the counter. “You may find me on my knees with your cock in my mouth.”
He pulls in a sharp breath, and suddenly his fist is in my hair, pulling my head back.
“I’m done waiting,” he promises with a hardened, hungry gaze.
I let out a moan, rubbing my ass on his hard-on.
His other hand grips my ass cheek, hidden beneath a pair of thin black yoga shorts. He kneads my flesh, his eyes boring into mine.
“You want my cock inside you, baby?” His finger dips in between my ass cheeks, eliciting another moan. “You want me there too, don’t you?”
“Yes. Fuck me, Dom,” I beg.
“Pick up the bowl of shrimp and add it to the pan.”
“Wha…?”
He lets go of my hair, and both hands are now on my hips.
“Turn the shrimp over until they start to get pink.” His thumbs slip under my shorts, and he starts to pull them down past my ass. “After that, add the tomatoes.”
“What are you—?”
“Do what I said.”
His voice is an explosive cocktail, making my core throb for more.
“Don’t burn it,” he cautions, his lips dipping into the crook of my neck as he kisses and sucks.
My thighs press together as I lift the bowl full of shrimp. All the while, his hand creeps down my ass, cupping my pussy.
“Pull your thighs apart before I do it for you,” he warns as I let out a whimper.
I flip the bowl into the pan just as my thighs do what he’s commanded. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to cook with him doing whatever he’s about to do to me. I’m afraid I’ll not only burn the food, but probably the both of us.
Just as I’m about to mix the shrimp, one finger glides between my slit, and I cry out in pleasure as he rubs a little, giving me only a taste of what he has in store.
He pinches my pussy lips, and I groan, needing more.
“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep stirring.”
My legs grow weak, my heartbeats falling faster, even as I do what he says.
“Good girl.” His hand leaves my core, and the next thing I know, his arm is lifting my leg and draping it over his shoulder.
I pant as I glance down, finding him on his knees, his eyes on mine. But his lips, his tongue, are where his fingers have just been. He takes a swipe, outlining the shape of my lips, and I gasp, my knees trembling, my hand almost about to drop the spoon.
“If you stop, I stop,” he threatens, his gaze daring me to disobey.
That only makes me grow wetter. I like this side of him. The dominating side. I need it. I want it.
His mouth is on me, feasting on every inch, his tongue entering me while his thumb plays with my clit. I keep mixing with stuttered motions, moaning while my eyes roll back to my head.
I want to feel him enter me, stretching me fully, completely. The more he works me, the more I’m pushed over the edge.
He stops, and I moan in frustration.
“Dom, damn it. I need to come.”
“Are the shrimp done yet?” he asks casually, not like a man who smells and tastes like me.
“I…ah…um…I think so.”
“Add the tomatoes.”
I do it immediately, tossing them right in just as his tongue flicks my clit, two fingers inside me, curling into my G-spot.
“Oh, fuck. Yesss…” I gasp, my hand grabbing the edge of the counter, the spoon whipping in my other hand.
He pumps harder, his fingers driving into the most sensitive part of me, his tongue picking up pace to the rhythm of my hand stirring the food, unable to sustain speed.
I’m falling, aching for release.
One more touch of his tongue, and my orgasm explodes.
“Yes!” I cry as the overflowing wave of passion hits me like a grenade, the spoon falling onto the floor. My hands clutch the cold granite, lucky I didn’t accidentally reach for the stove.
He takes his time, devouring me until every ounce of pleasure is on his tongue. Standing up, he curls a hand around my front, gripping my arms tight, my body molded into his. He reaches over, shutting off the stove, and yanks me backward until we hit the table behind us.
He spins me around to face him, his fierce gaze searching mine. “You taste so damn good.”
“That was…wow,” I pant, my chest falling frantically with uneven breaths. “I need you. Right now. I can’t wait another moment to feel you.”
He groans, his hand gripping the back of my head, his eyes dipping wildly from my eyes down to my mouth before his arms come around my hips and I’m lifted off the floor.
He kisses my stomach, inhaling my scent as he sets me on the floor, my back over the cold porcelain tiles.
“Do I need a condom?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly as he stands over me.
And the sight of him—the flexing of his muscles, the dominating way he looks at me like I’m a meal he’s about to devour—is so erotic, my hand brushes in between my breasts. It slinks lower, falling in between my thighs, touching myself, watching him watching me.
“No.” I shake my head, my hips circling the floor, needing him inside me.
“Good girl,” he growls with approval, undoing his belt buckle.
It clinks, the sound reverberating through the room, arousing me even more.
“You’re so damn gorgeous.” His words are an echo of worship, his eyes a silent praise.
I smile, his compliment giving me the courage to sit up and lift the black tank top off my body.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he pulls the zipper down, his gaze feasting on my breasts, then his pants and boxers fall to the ground. He steps out of them, taking off his shirt.
I lick my lips, my heart pounding as I take in his chiseled abs flexing beneath his tanned skin.
Holy hell, he’s really mine.
With our eyes locked, he lowers down onto the floor, grabbing my knees and pulling me closer. His body falls on top of mine, and the feel of his strength pushing into me drives me wild.
My hand wraps around the back of his head, and his gaze keeps me warm. I can practically feel the love pouring over me.
“It’s you and me from now on, baby,” he promises. “No one will come between us. I won’t let them.”
“Never.” I shake my head, the moan slipping from my mouth, the raspy tone of his voice lighting a fire in my belly, spreading into every space in my body.
He kisses me softly, then comes back up onto his knees, spreading my thighs before positioning the tip of his cock against my wet entrance.
“I love you,” he swears. “I love you more than I can say. More than you can understand.”
“Show me.” I rock my hips around his bulging erection. “Let me feel it.”
And without taking his eyes off of mine, he thrusts inside me, filling me completely.
We both groan, slick with desire, as he picks up the pace, his body working me harder.
Faster.
Deeper.
My body comes alive, my core clenching, aching around him, another orgasm catching flight.
“Yes, that’s it, baby. Pull my cock deeper into that pussy.”