Chapter Thirty-eight
Vida
I’ ve forgotten my own name, I swear I’ve even forgotten how I got here in the first place. The moment his hands gripped my waist, I was certain I had forgotten how to even breathe. This feeling and this man are worth dying from lack of oxygen for.
Before I can protest or question what he’s doing as he removes his lips from my skin, he sweeps me up with one gentle, yet unyielding motion, planting me on the poker table. His fingers brush against my thighs, and my dress bunches around my hips as he kneels before me.
“Ciro,” I whisper, barely recognizing my voice. It’s soft, needy, and already lost in the anticipation of what is to come.
“I’ll show you, Vida, I’ll show you how sorry I can be,” he answers as his hands slide up, firm and possessive, parting my thighs with ease. The warmth of his breath against my sensitive flesh sends shivers down my spine, and before I can even think of what to do, his mouth is on me. His tongue sliding inside of me before I can blink.
Oh God!
The first touch of his tongue sets something off inside my brain, my wires short-circuiting in seconds. It’s as if I’ve been lit from the inside. His tongue is warm, wet, and unrelenting. He moves as if he’s determined to ruin me, to make me forget every single thing I’ve ever known, including my name and the reason we’re in this position in the first place.
A whimper escapes my lips in the most shameless manner possible, and without thinking I bury my hands in his hair, grabbing a handful of the jet-black strands in a desperate need to anchor myself to something.
“Oh, God,” I choke out, my voice trembling as his tongue moves in its maddening pace. Each flick of his tongue is slow and deliberate. Every stroke of his tongue makes me shudder, my thighs trembling against his tight grip.
His fingers dig into my skin, and I know by the sting of pain that he’ll leave bruises. Yet, in my fucking sick mind, it only makes me crave him more. I arch my back, surrendering to the sensations, my head tilting back as I close my eyes.
What is this man doing to me? It feels so wrong, but fuck, does it also feel like the most right thing God has ever created!
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what it is I’m begging for. More? Or maybe just for him to never stop. My body burns with a torturing desire that each skillful move of his tongue brings on.
Every kiss, every scrape of his teeth against my skin, every possessive growl he lets out against me, sends me spiraling. I don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away because the pleasure is overwhelming, too much, and yet not enough.
I was mad! I was guilty! I was everything, but now desperation and need are at the top of the list.
My nails rake against his scalp as my thighs clamp around his head, making him growl. It’s a sound so primal it sends another wave of heat crashing through me. It sounds like music to my ears, music I never want to stop listening to.
His hands dig deeper into my thighs, holding me in place, owning me, and I want nothing more than to be his. I want to let him do whatever unspeakable things he wants to do to me. His tongue, that fucking skilled tongue, feels like it’s about to send me to heaven and back to hell. My body trembles violently, every nerve tearing from each other as something begins to build inside me.
Fuck! I feel like I need to pee! How?
“Ciro I, I . . .” I try to say, but how on earth can I conjure a single meaningful sentence when he has his face buried in my freaking vagina!
Just as I open my mouth again to try to say something, too afraid that I might relieve myself on his face, I feel cold air on me, indicating the absence of his tongue. I’m so close to pulling him back against me, but I can’t even move.
“Let’s finish this at home, shall we?” he smirks, his tongue licking up my juices that coat his lips. He watches me closely as I try to drag air into my lungs and my body begins to fall back as my impending release dies down, yet he doesn’t move away. He stays between my spread legs, like he isn’t done with me and like I’m not already shattered enough.
By the way he looks at me, his eyes full of desire, need, and something dark, I get the impression there are more ways he wants to destroy me, and I can’t help but wish this opening was over now so he could show me just how badly he wants me.
Walking back into the crowd only drags me back to the one thing I read about in books . . . the one thing that I said I would never do; the walk of shame. Though this isn’t exactly the same situation, I can’t help but feel like I’m living that moment.
I can still feel the ghost of his tongue inside me, still smell me on him as he kisses me again. Won’t everyone be able to smell me on him too? Isn’t he a bit worried that people can tell what we just did? I turn to look at him and am sure that is the last thing on his mind. He’s wearing the brightest smile, one that will definitely give us away. I giggle at the thought, knowing he’s this happy because of what we’d done.
That poor poker table.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Carmela says, yanking me away from Ciro’s hold.
I turn to mutter a quick “sorry” but his burning death glare at Carmela makes me laugh.
“Sorry, I was . . . busy talking,” I reply, knowing damn well we did more than talk in that room.
“Vladimir is at the bar, I’ll take you to him. It’ll be poker game time, so get ready. Father and Ciro are about to take everyone’s money,” she says excitedly.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter to Ciro, and before I can turn and walk towards the bar, he grabs me by my waist and pulls me closer to him.
“Mine,” he whispers just inches away from my face. “Fuck, I miss the taste of your wet pussy.”
My eyes shoot wide open, and my face instantly turns red in embarrassment. How can he say something like that so openly without any filter or shame?
“Stop,” I say shyly, hitting his chest and attempting to wiggle out of his hold.
“Never. There’s no going back after having tasted you, Mrs. Ballera,” he adds, kissing the tip of my nose, which makes me giggle.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you need to go,” Carmela says, interrupting the moment between us. The look on her face is priceless and it takes everything in me not to laugh.
“See you back in there, little chaos,” he says softly, the gentleness of his tone making butterflies flutter around in my belly. The fact that he’s back to calling me little chaos has me close to squealing and jumping in excitement. I don’t, because this is not the time or place for that.
“Hi,” I say to Vladimir as I settle beside him at the bar. He’s sipping a drink, one I’m assuming is very strong by the look on his face after he swallows some of the liquid.
“Everything okay?” he asks, turning to look at me with a smile, a very mischievous smile.
“Yes, never better actually,” I smile at him.
I turn to the bartender and ask for something less stronger than his, before turning back to Vladimir, who has his eyes burning into me.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” I ask him, arching my brow as I study his expression.
Another gulp of hard liquid goes down his throat, his long, chiseled neck moving as the drink goes through it. I can’t help it but stare.
“There’s something different about you,” he comments, his eyes moving from my face to my neck and finally stopping at my cleavage. It’s a gesture I don’t mind, a part of me likes that he can’t resist.
“I think you’re mistaken,” I reply, taking my drink from the bartender.
“I’m never mistaken, Vida. You’re glowing,” he notes, fully facing me now with his drink in his hand.
Why does this man feel so similar to Ciro? The aura they carry is like a magnet I can’t pull myself from. It draws me in, every part of me, and fuck, I don’t even mind.
“I just think you’re staring too much,” I reply, pulling his attention away from my breasts.
“How can I not?” he asks, leaning in. When he speaks next, his voice is a low whisper and his warm breath tickles my skin. “I can’t resist a glowing woman who glows extra bright.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Vladimir. Shall we join the players? I hear it’s a competitive game,” I say, making sure my words hold the flirty edge they need to.
“Yes please,” he replies, taking my hand and helping me get up.
“I know why,” Vladimir whispers as we enter the VIP room. It’s the same place Ciro had kissed me only minutes ago. The same table where he had placed me on and ate me out like I was his last meal, comes into view, now surrounded by powerful looking men.
How is Ciro sitting at that same table so comfortably like all of that never happened? I can barely think straight being back in this room.
“Why what?” I ask, turning to look at Vladimir.
We stand in the little crowd around the table, watching the men at the table play poker. Carmela is the only lady at the table, her poker face strong as she keeps all her emotions in check. Matteo sits next to Ciro, his body relaxed, while Ciro on the other hand, sits there like he owns the place.
Well, he does technically own the place.
“Your glow,” he replies, dragging my attention from my husband.
“Why is it I’m glowing?” I ask, getting curious. There’s no way he’d know.
“Your husband’s head was between your legs, right on that table.”
I choke on my own spit, almost letting go of the drink in my hand.
“What!” I grab his hand, afraid someone might have heard what he said.
I can feel my face getting hot, the thought of what he’s said sending shivers down my legs, reminding me of the way my body reacted to Ciro’s touch and his tongue.
“I have to get back, I’ve got work to do. Care to step out with me?” he asks with a smirk.
After a quick chat and a goodbye hug, I watch Vladimir walk to his car, his guard waiting with the car door wide open. I’ll miss him, though I don’t know why.
“Vida,” he calls, stopping a few steps from the car.
“Yes,” I giggle at him, not surprised at all that he’s stopped to say something else after he’d tried to leave four different times before this.
“I’m only doing this because I’ve wondered what your lips taste like since the day we spoke over the phone,” he says as he walks closer to me.
“What?” I arch my brow, my chest tightening slightly as the dots begin to connect.
He wouldn’t, would he? That’s not part of the plan. I need to stay on his good side so we can count on him as an ally, but the saying ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’ shouldn’t involve having to kiss them!
“And no, I don’t do this with all my friends,” he smirks, still coming closer.
“What’s going on?” I ask, wondering why I’m not moving away even though alarm bells are ringing in the back of my head.
I should stop him. I should remind him that I’m married to Ciro freaking Ballera, the very man who has beaten people to death because they touched me. But he knows that already and he’s still stalking towards me with a look of determination on his face that tells me he’s going to take what he wants, whether I try to stop him or not.
“I always get what I want, Vida Ballera,” he adds, now only inches away from me.
“And now, I want to taste your lips,” he says and without a second warning, his lips are on mine.
Jesus, he actually did it! I want to push him away and stop him, but I’m frozen in shock. His kiss is soft, tender, and warm, so much different than the way Ciro kissed me, the way he owned me with his lips and his body.
This man isn’t my husband, and just as my brain catches up, my hands coming up to push him away, he pulls away and a smirk tugs up the corner of his lips.
“Don’t ever do that again, Vladimir,” I say, the words coming out from a place of shock rather than of anger. He is a friend, at least he says he is, so this is all I’ll say.
“Oh, he’s ruined, Vida,” he mutters, his tongue licking his bottom lip slowly.
“What?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as shocked as I actually am.
“Ciro, with a mouth that tastes like that, he’s a ruined man at your beck and call.” He takes a step back before continuing. “Let’s see each other again soon, Vida Ballera. Don’t make it too long.”
“I won’t, Vladimir,” I reply, watching him give me a slight nod before turning towards his car.
As I watch him get into his car and drive away, I can’t help but think about what he said and what he did. Like a true mafia don, Vladimir took what he wanted, even if what he wanted belonged to Ciro. While I’ve enjoyed watching Ciro exert his power and take what he wants, this is different, and I don’t know how to feel about the fact that what he wanted was a taste of me, a taste of something that belongs to Ciro.
Sighing, I turn and head back towards the casino, using the walk back and the fresh air to process the last few minutes. He said he wanted a taste, and a taste is what he got. Now that he has, he can move past this and never do it again.
The old me would be scandalized and hate herself right now, while the new me wants to forget about what just happened and focus only on the man inside who had kissed me like his entire being needs me. I know for a fact that my entire being has somehow grown to need him too.
He’s the man I once hated, once despised with my entire being, but he’s now also the man who has started to consume my every thought, and not in a bad way. He makes me feel alive, and I can’t wait to get home with him tonight and get lost in him again.