Chapter 24 Trilby #3
He gets off the bed and stands, soaking up my hungry gaze while he drops his jacket to the floor.
First he unbuttons his shirt. He untucks it and lets it hang open while he thoughtfully removes his cufflinks.
His eyes don’t leave me once. When his cufflinks are removed, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, and I heat up like a kindled fire.
His upper body is perfect. I gobble up his broad shoulders and cut biceps before my gaze falls to his ink.
A dove in flight amid a tongue of fire takes up the whole left side of his torso.
I sit up. “Is that the . . .?” My voice trails off.
“The Di Santo crest,” he answers. “Every made man in our family has it.”
I swallow. “Were you . . . made?”
“Not officially, but Sav and I got the ink at fourteen. Being born into the family made it kind of unavoidable.”
I’m so glued to the intricate details—the feathers of the dove and the licks of the flame—that I don’t realize he’s removed everything from his bottom half until my gaze focuses on the enormous cock in his hand.
Cristiano is leaning back against his bedroom wall, slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft while he watches me watching him.
He jerks his head toward me. “Touch yourself.”
“No!” Anxious sweat leaches through my pores.
“I’ve eaten you out, kitten—you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I stare at him, unable to put into words why I’m not on board with this despite his logic.
“Come on, Castellano.” His eyes drop to my thighs. “I want to see you. Spread your legs for me and let me see the beautiful pussy I just fucking worshipped.”
An intoxicating throbbing picks up between my legs.
He drops his head back against the wall and groans. “Castellano, I’m hanging on by a thread here . . .”
He is?
“Have you any idea how much I’ve wanted this since the first fucking second I saw you?”
My pulse races.
“Please, just put a fi—”
He stops short as he pulls his head up, because I’m doing as he asked. I’ve pushed a finger inside of myself, coating my fingers in my arousal.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” The words emerge as a strained, hoarse whisper.
I can’t believe how this is affecting him. His eyes glaze over and don’t waver from the movement of my fingers. His hand grips his cock tighter, and his chest is heaving.
I slip a second finger inside of myself and then rub the juices around my clit. But I’m so wet there’s no friction.
“Cristiano,” I gasp. I need him to do this for me.
His eyes darken, and he takes two strides to the bed, still rubbing his cock. “Lie down. Spread your legs.”
Alarm zaps through me. “Cristiano, we can’t . . . I . . .”
I can’t bring myself to say the words. Not here—not when there’s a beautiful spell to break.
I have to remain a virgin. I want this night to be perfect.
I want to feel every long, hard inch of this man, but .
. . losing my virginity to him could ruin us both.
Seeing how distant Savero and Cristiano are with each other makes me think no love will be lost between the two of them, but a lot of face would be.
In fact, Savero might even kill to restore his reputation.
Would he kill his own brother? The fact I don’t know the answer to that makes me even more wary of giving my virginity to someone other than the Di Santo don.
He gently pushes my legs outward, the fire in his eyes no less dim for me. “We’re not doing that,” he says, and my anxious thoughts slow. “But we’re doing the next best thing.”
And just like that, my thoughts bounce back to the beat of, What the actual fuck? Has he forgotten I have zero experience?
I keep my mouth shut and lie back on the comforter with my legs extended outward.
He nestles himself carefully between them and lets his cock fall heavily onto my clit.
It makes me startle, but the sensation of having his hard lines and ridges resting against my sensitive nub makes me dizzy with desire.
He continues to lower his hips until his cock is applying a firm pressure against the cluster of nerve endings. He looks into my eyes as if he’s waiting for permission. I give him a light nod, and he starts to rub his cock up and down my pussy.
At first it feels strange, but very quickly, it makes me hot and breathless. In fact, I’m panting, and the need to find that release again is overwhelming. How can having a cock rub up and down on my clit make me want to come so fast?
I bite down on the top of his arm, and he lets out an annoyed growl. His cock doubles down on its task, pressing me just hard enough into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his back, pulling him closer, firmer.
“Fuck.” He breathes hot, reckless air into my ear, and I shift my hips, needing more.
Lost in mindlessness, I don’t realize how full I feel until he freezes above me . . .
“Trilby . . .”
. . . and says my name.
I drag my awareness back to his face and almost recoil at his expression. He looks anguished and . . . haunted.
“What—?”
His voice cracks. “I’m inside you.”
Suddenly, the sensation makes sense. It isn’t just his wide body keeping my legs apart; it’s the crown of his cock inside of me.
“Do something.” His eyes are narrow and pleading. “Before I lose my fucking mind.”
What?
I battle with his demand. I don’t want to move. I want him to inch deeper and fill me completely. I want him to fuck me into the mattress, virginity or no virginity—I don’t care.
“Trilby!” The bed shakes beneath his braced arms and barely contained growl. He sucks in a tight breath and pushes his cock in by a fraction.
We both groan.
How can we deny ourselves and each other when we both want this so badly?
My head is spinning, and my ability to think straight has evaporated, along with my conviction.
He drops his head. His shoulders are glistening with sweat.
Another fraction.
I mewl like a cat, and the already tight walls of my pussy close around him like lips sucking on a popsicle. My body knows what it needs better than I do.
He pumps lightly and groans like a lion taunting its next kill.
This is too good to stop. The sensation is strange, unfamiliar, but so right I can’t argue with it.
“Stop me,” he whispers again. “Don’t let me ruin your life.”
He pumps again, and I cry out, the need making my pussy throb painfully.
“I want you,” I purr. “Don’t pull out, Cristiano, please,” I beg him mindlessly.
He pumps a few more times, refusing to push his cock more than a quarter way in. It’s agonizing.
He fists a hand in my hair, forcing my eyes up to his. “You have no idea how much I want to push through your barrier, break in your walls, and come deep in your gut while I swallow your moans.”
There’s a “but,” but it doesn’t come. Instead he lowers his face into the crook of my neck and groans.
I use all my strength to squeeze myself around his cock. He jerks against me, and I hear his teeth gnash together.
I’m losing my damn mind. I can’t do this slowly—it’s going to hurt. But if he moves just another inch, he’ll break me in. Do I want that?
I don’t know. I just want him.
Eventually, his breaths soften, and he lifts his head, casting a warm gaze across my frazzled features. “I’m pulling out,” he says quietly. “Just give me a minute.”
He bends his arms, and the veins pop out with the pressure of holding himself up for so long. I feel his lips caress my ear, and he nuzzles my lobe. I’m dying of need.
My heart sinks. I know he has to pull out, but I don’t want to stop.
A thought crosses my mind. “I want to taste you,” I whisper shyly.
“Are you sure?” His lips brush the side of my throat.
“Yes, I am.”
I feel hollow when he keeps his word and withdraws his cock. When he crawls up over me, bringing his cock to lay on my chest, I feel terrified. First, I’ve never done this before, and second, I might die of suffocation.
“What . . . um, what do I do?” I blink up at him.
He swallows loudly and strokes his hand down the shaft, cupping the crown in his palm. “We can take it slow.” His voice cracks. “Start by maybe licking it a little.”
I nod and pull him towards my lips, then I press a kiss to the crown—long, hot and slow.
His jaw unhinges, his mouth curling around a throaty gasp. “Or that,” he grunts, swallowing again.
I’m instantly addicted to the look on his face. I push my tongue out tentatively and flick it over the beautiful glistening tip. He releases a string of curses, and it makes my eyelids pop, because, again, I hardly did anything.
A pearl of moisture collects on the edge, and I lick it away. It tastes salty and foreign, but it’s him.
That thought alone propels me forward, and I wrap my lips around him.
His hands plummet into the comforter on either side of my head.
“Fuck. Fuck.”
I close my eyes and suck him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the circumference. I bring my hands up to his ass, and a deep lust sweeps over me at the feel of his rock-hard glutes. He’s shaking, and it only feeds my frenzy. I pull him deeper, opening my throat instinctively.
Italian profanities gush from his lips, and I entangle myself in his desperation. My tongue sweeps and swirls, swallowing more of his pre-cum, and my cheeks hollow as I pull him in and suck.
In the midst of it all, his fingers find my pussy. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing to it, but I never want him to stop. He strokes it, tweaks it, and spanks it, and I groan my approval around his cock.
“I’m going to come down your throat,” he chokes out. “Are you ready for that, kitten?”
I nod, and I’m rewarded with two fingers inside my pussy. I buck my hips up toward him, coaxing them deeper. He growls with frustration, and I realize he doesn’t want to break my hymen with his fingers either.
“Suck me, Trilby. Oh God, that’s perfect. Your lips are so soft, so warm.”
I pull his ass toward me in reckless thrusts. He massages my clit with maddening focus, and I feel it sharpen beneath his fingers. I’m going to explode.
“Yes, baby. Harder, deeper. Fuck. You suck me so damn good.”
His filthy praise drives me over the edge, and I jerk up into his hand. As I spasm beneath him, my mouth fills up with his semen.
“Don’t stop,” he bites out, fingering me with relentless rhythm.
I keep swallowing until there’s nothing left, then I slowly ease him out of my mouth. When he collapses onto the bed, I set to work.
I lick him clean.
Every rock-hard inch of him.
I crawl up to my hands and knees and lick around the base, the tops of his thighs, up the length to the crown, and across every ridge. His fingers work through my hair, soft moans coasting over my ears.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers.
I look up and drown immediately in those deep brown eyes. He gently pushes me back onto the bed and brings his mouth to my tits, then he proceeds to spend the next ten minutes making out with them both.
I’m a soaking-wet mess by the time he comes up for air, and all it takes is a swipe of his tongue over my clit and I’m coming again.
We can’t fuck, but we can do everything else.
And we do.
I wake up with an awareness of warmth around me. I’m curled into Cristiano’s large, firm body, my face nuzzled into his chest. I breathe him in, not wanting to break the spell by moving.
“You didn’t have nightmares,” he says softly, the vibration of his voice touching my cheek.
I let my eyes drift closed. “Did you hold me like this all night?”
He presses his lips into my hair, and I feel him smile with his whole body. “Yeah.”
I lift my head and immediately drown in the look he’s giving me. Like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“What for?”
I stroke my fingertips down his chest. “For everything. But especially for last night. And . . .”
“And?”
“And for not taking my virginity.”
His chest turns suddenly rigid.
“It would have made everything so much more complicated. And if Savero ever discovered this . . .”
A chill winds its way down my spine at the thought of Savero finding out about me and Cristiano.
I hear his teeth grinding above me.
“You know why I’m leaving after the wedding, don’t you?”
My lack of response leaves the air to fill with heavy breaths.
“I can’t stand by and see you become married to another man, least of all my own flesh and blood. It will kill me.”
“I don’t want to marry him,” I whisper. “I have no choice.”
His tone is laden with defeat. “And if I try to stop it, it won’t be me who pays—it will be your family. I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
I squeeze my eyes closed in the hope tears won’t fall. My heart drops, knowing there’s nothing he can—or will—do to keep me.
“Will you do me one favor?”
I look up.
“You said yourself you don’t handle alcohol well. Will you please refrain from drinking it? I can’t bear the thought of you getting into a . . . predicament . . . and I’m not there to look out for you.”
“I managed just fine before you showed up,” I mutter.
His tone is gentle. “Will you please just do it for me?”
I sigh. He doesn’t have to know. In fact, he’ll be on the opposite coast. “Okay.”
We fall silent again, and I listen to the steady beats of his heart. Then his fingers draw circles on my back.
“That comb you wear in your hair . . .”
“Yes?”
“It’s special to you.”
I nod and look up. “It was my mama’s.”
He bends his head and kisses the tip of my nose. “It suits you.”
A warm glow settles over me, and I snuggle into him.
“Will you promise me one more thing?”
I nod against his chest.
“Will you wear it when you think of me?”
I suck in a breath and lift my gaze to his. “Why?”
“Because as soon as you walk out that door, we’ll have to pretend this never happened. But if I see you wearing that, I’ll know it really did.”
I pull myself from his embrace and crawl up to his lips. He moans when I kiss him hard.
After a few minutes, we come up for air, and he holds my face in his palms.
“You know what pisses me off the most?”
“What?” I whisper.
“I fucking found you first.”