Chapter 15 Giuliana #4
Luca molds the length of his tongue to my core, pleasuring me with calculated strokes before he dives into my entrance, and I swear I see the whole fucking universe then. The way he devours me is honestly deserving of some sort of medal. It’s Olympic worthy. Nobel Prize worthy, really.
“Oh god,” I sob, unsure of what I’m asking for as my head thrashes from side-to-side. “Please—just, please.”
Without warning, Luca plunges two fingers into me, stretching me before adding a third. I cry out.
“There it is,” he growls, watching them move in and out of her. “Needed something to fill you up, didn’t you?”
I can only whimper, my hands fisting the sheets in a silent plea for him to keep going—to give me more.
Luca moves methodically, lathing over my center and his fingers. I can feel him then, spreading his fingers in a motion I’ve never felt before as his tongue slips inside my channel alongside them. Holy fucking gods.
That undeniable heat starts low in my belly as he keeps manipulating and tonguing me to the point of extinction. I don’t know if I will even exist beyond this moment when he curls his fingers inward, pressing perfectly against that one spot.
Stars dance behind my lids as he continues to pleasure me, stroking me and coaxing out the need that has been coiling inside. It feels mindless, making my toes curl and my blood sing. It feels like every one of those raunchy romantasy novels that I love to read.
I gasp, arching my spine like a taut bowstring as I shout his name. My vision becomes spotty and the world around me blurs. The aftershocks roll through me as Luca gives one last swipe to my sensitive bundle of nerves before settling between my thighs.
I feel exhausted. Boneless. I hear the sound of Luca’s belt clinking as he lowers his pants. My head lolls to the side as I try to get a better view, wanting to see him in all his glory. What I see makes my eyes widen.
His cock bobs free of his pants, thick and heavy, against his belly, past his navel.
Jesus Christ.
I had seen his cock in my room, but it had been a quick look before he had turned me around and had me against the wall. How the hell had it fit in me before? It’s probably like being impaled.
Seeming to read my mind, Luca chuckles darkly. With long, sure strokes, his hand surrounds the girth as he angles it at the very center of me. Every move feels calculated as he coats himself with my slick.
“Don’t worry,” Luca tells me. “You can take it. You’ve done so before.”
Yeah, well, that was before I could really see it. No wonder why I was so sore.
Luca hooks my thigh over his hip as he leans over.
Mouth ghosting over my own, our breaths mingle as I wonder if he can feel my heart beating rhythmically in my chest. The thick head of him slips through my folds and I feel him notch at my entrance before sliding inch-by-glorious inch.
No words can describe how utterly amazing I feel right now.
How full he makes me, and he wasn’t even completely inside me yet.
Luca could have been rough. He could have taken me as hard and as fast as he wanted to.
But he doesn’t. When he’s fully inside me, he stills, trying to be gentle.
There’s no claiming, no possession, just connection.
Two broken people finding solace in each other’s scars, discovering that shared pain can become shared strength if we’re brave enough to be vulnerable.
He moves carefully, watching my face for reactions, adjusting his rhythm to match my responses. Every thrust is deliberate like he’s trying to memorize this moment, this feeling, this unexpected tenderness between enemies who’ve somehow inexplicably become something more.
“Giuliana…you feel so good,” Luca moans, the sound low and throaty. “This is better than—you don’t understand. Been wanting…needing this…” His voice becomes a strangled cacophony of incoherence. “So good. So fucking good how you’re wrapping around me.”
He pulls me closer to him, deepening our movements as he fills me in long, languid strokes.
His hips snap against my own, the bed squeaking.
He bends his head, his tongue tracing over my neck, memorizing the notches as our movements become frantic.
My walls quake around him, tightening like a vice and preparing to snap with each skilled thrust of his hips.
“Luca,” I gasp, already close. “I—”
“I know.” His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes me arch into him. “Let go, Giuliana. I’ve got you.”
Luca moves out to just the tip before slamming all the way home. My fingers claw into his back, scratching like a caged animal, chasing that inevitable pleasure.
“Let go, Giuliana,” Luca encourages, those hips still snapping against mine, “I’ve got you. Show me you can be a good girl.”
Those words do it as I throw my head back and feel his name rip through my teeth with unrelenting need.
My vision spots and my mouth opens wide in a silent scream.
I clench around him, filling myself with everything he offers me.
The orgasm feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
It has no endpoint, just the beginning facing me with no warning.
It’s cruel and glorious, warming me from my head to my toes.
When Luca’s eyes lock on mine, he has an expression that looks almost like awe. He follows moments later, his control finally breaking as he buries himself deep and spills inside me with a groan that sounds like relief and maybe a touch of grief.
We stay tangled together afterward, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn’t. His face is buried against my neck, and I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching my own erratic rhythm.
“What happens now?” I whisper into the darkness, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He lifts his head to look at me, and the expression on his face is conflicted. He looks uncertain. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “This wasn’t—I didn’t plan for this.”
It’s not reassuring. Not even close, but the raw honesty in his voice, and the way his hand tightens on my hip like he’s anchoring himself—it’s more vulnerability than I expected from him.
Why am I not terrified? This should remind me that we’re still captor and captive. My father is still imprisoned somewhere, and this whole situation is seriously fucked up regardless of whatever just happened between us.
But instead of terror, all I feel is a complicated knot of emotions I can’t untangle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit, my fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest, moving over the swirling patterns of his tattoo. “None of this makes sense.”
“No.” His thumb traces my collarbone absently. “It doesn’t.”
“We’re a disaster,” I remark.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t try to deny it or offer false promises or reassurances. “But maybe—” He stops, a weird look crossing his features before he locks it down again. “Maybe we figure it out as we go.”
It’s not a declaration or a commitment. It’s barely even hope. But it’s some acknowledgment that whatever this is between us has shifted into territory neither of us knows how to navigate.
I need to pull away and go back to my suite and my guilt and put distance between us before this gets any more complicated.
Instead, I press closer, letting his warmth surround me, and try not to think about all the ways this could end badly.
If he’s capable of becoming something more than the monster grief made him.
If the lies I’m still carrying don’t destroy us both before we get the chance to figure out what this is.
If my father would ever forgive me for sleeping with our captor.
But for now, I let those thoughts drift away and let myself exist in this fragile space between enemies and something else entirely, where the rules aren’t clear and the future is uncertain.
Where the only thing I know for sure is that I’m in far, far deeper shit than I ever intended to be.
And I’m not sure I want to find my way back out.