Chapter Forty
Vida
I toss and turn under my sheets, the heat making it a lot worse to relax for a minute. Every time I try to close my eyes, the shadow of Adam’s face flashes through my mind. And even as I fear sleep, I still make sure to put a little effort into staying awake, hoping and wishing that if I just wait long enough, Ciro will come to my room. Maybe he’ll pull me into his arms. Maybe he’ll let me forget everything, even just for a little while. But here I am, alone in the dark, struggling with the loneliness that has its grip on me, even as I try to push it down.
I let out a tired sigh, the weight of all my thoughts finally pressing down on my body so much I feel heavy. I can’t sleep, not without him, and I can’t shake off the thoughts of him. The last time his skin was on mine was barely five hours ago, yet it feels like it’s been an eternity. I want him. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I push myself up out of the bed, my bare feet making contact with the cool floor. The cold tiles welcome me as I move slowly around the room. I enjoy every time I walk on them like this, especially when no one can see me. It’s a habit that always sends Mom and Izzy into a frenzy. It is soothing, and tonight, I need all the soothing I can get.
As I pass the door that leads into Ciro’s room, I hear sounds coming from inside. Faint, muffled noises like someone is talking reach my ears. The hairs on my arms stand and I can’t help myself from seeing what is happening. My feet move on their own, taking me toward his door before I can think of a reason not to.
I hesitate for a moment, leaning in to listen. Maybe he’s on the phone? The sounds aren’t like a conversation, though. Is he dreaming? I grab the doorknob, rethinking my decision to enter. Before I can talk myself out of it, the sounds get worse. I push the door open further than he’d left it, just enough to peer inside.
That’s when I spot him tossing and turning on the bed as beads of sweat gather along his forehead. His body moves restlessly under the sheets, making my heart skip a beat. I knew this feeling. I knew this turmoil more than I liked to admit.
Ciro is a force of nature, always in control, always calculated. But this . . . this is a side of him I’ve never seen before. This vulnerability in his sleep, and his fight with whatever demons haunt his dreams.
“Ciro?” I whisper, hoping the sound of my voice might wake him.
He doesn’t stop.
I call his name again, louder this time, my voice filled with concern. Still nothing.
My heart races as I go into full panic mode. He’s trembling and his face is twisted in discomfort, his body lost in whatever nightmare has taken over his sleep. I can’t let him stay stuck in whatever hell he’s in.
“Ciro! Wake up! Please!” I beg loudly, shaking him with everything I have.
Suddenly, his eyes shoot open, wide and wild, and instead of a pair of brown eyes facing me, a sea of deep blue stare back at me instead.
“God!” I gasp, my heart skipping a beat as I stumble back, falling to the ground at the suddenness of his awakening and the color of his eyes that glare at me.
His gaze is so intense, so unexpected, that I stay frozen on the ground. For a split second, I forget how to breathe. His eyes are so different. They are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They’re a shade of blue that could only be described as Caribbean blue. Like the ocean before a storm, deep and unyielding. His pupils are dilated, filled with a sense of confusion that relates to my own.
He looks at me, disoriented, like he has no idea how he ended up awake or where he is. But as his gaze focuses on me, something appears in his eyes, recognition, relief, maybe even a hint of shame. His lips part, as though he’s about to speak, but no words come out.
Then he jumps out of his bed, coming to hold me where I sit on the floor. I flinch as he pulls me against him, surprised by the sudden action. My heart races in my chest, threatening to jump out of my ribs. I have never seen Ciro like this, vulnerable, raw, and . . . with fucking blue eyes!
“Your eyes,” I mutter as he holds me.
“I can explain. Please get up,” he says, trying to help me stand.
“Little chaos.” His voice is hoarse and barely a whisper, but it sends a shiver down my spine, like he is making sure I’m really here in his arms.
“Do you believe in him?” he asks casually, sounding exhausted as we sit on his bed.
“What?” I turn to him, trying to take another look into his eyes, just to be certain my lack of sleep isn’t making me see things.
“God . . . you called his name. Do you believe in him?” he asks.
“I do . . . used to. Still do, maybe. I don’t know,” I answer, my reply scrambled in my head because my mind is so focused on something else.
“Look at me, Ciro,” I finally say, unable to take the suspense any longer.
“I can’t. I . . . I don’t like them,” he replies, confirming my doubts.
“Show me, please,” I beg, putting my hand on his shoulder. I want to see them again.
I watch him turn, my heart beating with every second that passes. Finally, his eyes are on mine, blue eyes to brown eyes. I can tell he’s still shaken, still caught in the remnants of whatever nightmare had a hold on him, and it makes my heart ache for him.
“Ciro,” I call, breathless and unable to think straight or even speak. I slowly cup his face with my palm, wanting to drown in the pool of his blue eyes.
“You are… magnificent.” The words leave my soul, slipping out past my lips. As he stares at me, I know he has no choice but to believe me, because I doubt I have ever said anything more truthful.
He says nothing, does nothing, but just stares at me. His eyes never leave mine, and in this moment, I realize it all. I am no longer in the world Adam lived in, neither am I a stranger in Ciro’s world. I’m a part of it, whether I want to be or not. And right now, I want nothing but that.
“What do you believe in, Ciro?” I ask, the question falling off my lips like spilling gloss.
“You,” he whispers, his blue eyes owning my soul without even realizing it. “You are what I want to believe in, little chaos. You are my religion now.”
His mouth finds its way to mine, owning everything that has ever existed from the moment I was born.
Ciro
I’ve never believed in a supreme authority that could string me like a doll. Which is strange considering the Ballera home is a Catholic home, but how could I believe in a powerful man when he lets shit happen to people that don’t deserve any of it. Religion has always been a term crafted by some old high people who are probably wasted on the cheapest of drugs.
But . . .
As Vida’s lips dance with mine, as my hands roam across her perfect skin, as my face stays cupped in her hands, fuck, I want to believe in something. In a God who created her just for me, a perfect artist who made the perfect masterpiece and gave it to me. Why wouldn’t I want to believe in a supreme power after this woman sees me for all that I am and still kisses me like she needs me to live?
Magnificent? I never thought I’d be called that, but as the words left her mouth, I found myself believing it without a single doubt. I look magnificent, I was magnificent, I am magnificent . . . all because my wife told me so. Was this faith? Believing without doubting. Does she even realize that she’s made me believe in something? In her? In me? In us? I will worship her every day of the rest of my life, and all she needs to do is breathe.
“Ciro,” she moans, pulling me closer to her as my hands cup her breasts. Fuck! This woman will kill me and I don’t even mind.
“I need you,” I groan, lifting her and placing her on my lap. The move shows her exactly what she does to me, how fucking hard she makes my cock and how much it needs to be inside her.
“I . . .” she starts to say, but stops, arching her back in ecstasy.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I need to feel her walls hugging my cock. I need to watch her move back and forth from behind. I want to see her on her knees, ass in the air while I tower behind her and fuck her till she sees just how much power she has over me.
“Ciro, I . . .” she moans again, her hips grinding her ass against my cock, making it beg for freedom, the sort of freedom that takes it right into her wet fucking pussy.
She needs to talk and that isn’t going to happen if I don’t stop kissing her and playing with her clit.
“Use your words, little chaos. I’m listening,” I say as I stop everything, watching her chest rise and fall as her eyes stay glued on mine.
I don’t see fear or confusion as she looks at me now. She doesn’t stare like an idiot the way everyone else always does when they see my blue eyes. She looks at my eyes like they’re beautiful . . . like I’m beautiful. Fucking beautiful! I almost mentally laugh as the thought strikes me. Never in my life have I thought of myself as beautiful, but Vida looks at me the way . . . the way I look at her.
“I haven’t . . .” she begins, immediately shying away.
I arch my brow trying to read her expression, hoping to figure out what she’s trying so hard to say, but I get nothing.
“Well, I haven’t . . .” She looks away, and it hits me.
The way she uses her hand to cover her chest, the shyness, and awkward eye contact.
Fucking hell! Holy mother of…!
“Hey,” I smile, using my index finger to turn her face to mine.
“We can do so many other unholy things till you’re ready to give yourself to me, little chaos,” I tell her, trying my best to stay calm.
A virgin! Fuck! I want her so much more than I ever thought was possible.
“I’d like that,” she admits with a smile. Her excitement replaces the embarrassment in her eyes, and it makes me chuckle.
“I see you have some ideas.” I arch a brow, watching her nod.
“I want to put you in my mouth,” she says bluntly, making my cock twitch against her ass. ”But, you’re . . .”
She stares at my cock like she’s scared. I don’t know if this is the part where I feel good about this fact or chuckle that she thinks there is a ‘but’ when it comes to me fucking her pretty mouth.
“No buts, baby.” I use my finger to raise her chin to face me. “We’ll make it fit into your pretty mouth,” I say, watching her eyes glitter with excitement.
“I want . . .” She shakes her head. “I need to taste you.”
Fuck! Whenever Vida Ballera is involved, my fucking self-control becomes nonexistent.
“Then get on your knees, baby. Fucking that mouth of yours will bring me great pleasure,” I order, close to my grave in anticipation of what’s to come.
In seconds, Vida is on her knees in front of me, looking even more excited than I am. My breath stalls in my chest as her fingers toy with the string at my waist. Her gaze locks onto mine, dark, determined, and filled with something feral.
How does she match everything I am, finding me in all my states of insanity and being right there with me?
“Vida . . .” My voice is hoarse, barely audible, and just the sight of her has my heart about to stop fucking beating.
What is happening to me? If I didn’t know better, I would say this woman is making me afraid to stick my cock in her pretty throat. If anything, the way I tremble in anticipation only makes her enjoy what she’s doing to me, pushing her to look up at me with those brown eyes that look like they’ll take me whole.
She frees me from my sweats, a prison I had no idea I was in. Her soft fingers curl around me, and I swear under my breath. Heat spreads through my body as her lips brush the tip, testing, teasing, taking.
My head falls back as my precum kisses her warm tongue, the tension becoming too much to bear. I try to hold still, but the first wet slide of her mouth over me cock shreds every ounce of control I thought I had left. Stupid me for thinking I’d have any at all when it came to my cock being in her mouth.
“Fuck.” The word tears from my throat, rough and pleading. My hands grab the sheets, desperate to grab her in the most unholy and violent of ways, but I’m too terrified I’d be giving too much.
She moves slowly, deliberately, her tongue flicking against me and drawing out a shudder I can’t suppress. Fuck! She’s teasing me, and fuck, do I love it!
I force myself to look down at her, and the sight nearly ends me. Her perfect lips are wrapped around me, her eyes flicking up and watching every reaction she pulls from me. She looks so fucking good like this; wild and dangerous, like my fucking perfect little chaos.
“Vida,” I groan, my voice rough with need. “If you keep teasing me like that, so help me God, I will bend you over and fuck that nasty behavior right out of you.”
My warning comes not from a place of authority, but a place of fear. I’m afraid I’ll fill her mouth with my cum just from being teased.
As she lowers her head over me, taking me deep into her throat, I can’t hold myself back anymore. My hands shoot out, one tangling in her hair, the other gripping the edge of the bed for dear life. Her soft moan vibrates over me, and I curse again. My hips bucking up involuntarily, seeking so much more. She doesn’t pull back as I slip further into her throat. If anything, it spurs her on, taking me deeper as her nails dig into my thighs and she holds me in place.
“Fuck yes! Yes, baby,” I groan, moving her head up and down as she sucks me off. Her throat is heavenly, tight, and perfect for my length.
I’m spiraling, the pleasure blinding and consuming every fiber of my body. Every nerve in my body is on fire, every part of me attuned to her; her touch, her mouth, and the way she moves like she fucking owns me. And yes, she does, in this very moment and always.
“You look perfect with my cock in your mouth baby, look at you,” I say, unable to take my eyes off of her. My blues lock with her browns, creating something so powerful I didn’t think even existed.
“Take me, little chaos,” I say, closing my eyes as my cock hits the back of her throat, her gagging sound making it twitch in excitement.
“You look perfect with those tears on your cheeks, piccolo caos ,” I praise, letting the Italian drip down my tongue, the words making her go faster and rougher, her moves hungrier.
I would speak in fucking tongues if it had this effect on my wife.
“Fuck, Vida . . . I’m gonna . . .” I can’t even finish the sentence before the tension snaps and my release tears through me like a wave I can’t fight. She doesn’t stop, neither does she pull away. She keeps moving over me, letting me ride it out until I’m completely spent. My body trembles from the intensity of it and my head spins.
I watch her as she slowly lets me go. She takes a deep breath, her lips swollen and her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. I’m done for. Completely wrecked. Absolutely finished.
“Swallow me,” I order, watching her eyes widen with shock, contemplation, excitement, and finally surrender.
As I hear her swallow, I watch the way her throat moves. I smile at her, drawing her closer to me so there’s barely inches between my face and hers.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I smirk, my voice thick and unsteady.
By the smile that curves up her lips, I know here and now that she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and ruining me is at the top of her list.