Chapter Sixteen
Lorenzo
I hear screams tearing through the silence from Serena’s room, raw and panicked, and my body reacts before my mind catches up. I’m out of bed instantly, moving down the corridor with my heart in my throat, every instinct screaming her name.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
Her voice shatters something in me.
I find her thrashing in the bed, tears soaking her beautiful face, her body locked in terror. A nightmare. A fucking nightmare that has dragged her back into hell.
“Wake-up, baby.” I keep my voice low, controlled, even as my chest feels like it’s caving in. I know better than to startle someone already drowning in fear. “I’m here, love, I’m here.”
I reach for her hand gently, carefully, but she doesn’t wake. Her screams grow louder, more desperate, her arms flailing as if she’s fighting something only she can see.
“Please don’t touch me! Please! I don’t want to be touched!”
The words hit me like a blade.
My heart breaks clean down the middle.
What the hell did they do to her? She told me they didn’t touch her like that, but what if she doesn’t remember? What if her mind buried it to survive? The thought makes something feral coil in my chest.
“Breathe,” I whisper. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”
I don’t know how I’m holding myself together. I’m one breath away from shattering.
Then her glassy eyes snap open, unfocused at first, confused. They land on me. She stares like she’s trying to place me in the wreckage of her fear. Slowly, tentatively, she lifts her hand and touches my face.
Fuck.
I close my eyes for a second, just to survive it. I’m starved for her touch, for this small proof that she’s here, that she’s real, that she’s alive.
“I’m real.” I open my eyes again, grounding both of us. “You’re safe, they cannot hurt you.”
I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, reverent, restrained, as if she might shatter under anything more.
She looks into my eyes. Those doe-brown eyes undo me every time, soft and wounded and impossibly strong. My knees nearly give.
“I’m sorry I wake you up.”
That’s what she’s worried about.
“You didn’t,” I lie easily, because the truth doesn’t matter. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, even as every part of me prays she says yes. I need to know. I need to understand. I need to know exactly who I’m going to destroy for this.
She hesitates, searching my face, lips parting like she’s about to speak, then she stops.
“No.”
Alright. Not now. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if I have to.
“Alright.” I push myself up from the edge of her bed, forcing distance even though it feels wrong, even though every instinct screams to stay.
Her fingers wrap around my hand before I can move away.
“Stay.” Her voice breaks. “Please.”
Oh, fuck me.
If she ever uses the word please with me one more time, I’m ready to drop to my knees and give her everything I fucking have.
It occurred to me, cold and clear, that her please would be my undoing.
I’m shirtless in my boxers, standing there like a fucking idiot, and she’s already in bed in nothing but black lace. The contrast alone should be illegal. My body betrays me instantly, my cock hard at the thought of feeling her, even by accident. And then I notice it.
Her gaze drops.
From my eyes.
To my cock.
She licks her lips.
Fuck me.
I move into the bed beside her, every muscle rigid with control.
Apparently, it’s too hot in here, because she doesn’t cover herself.
Not even a little. She stays exactly like that, giving me a perfect view of her ass lifted slightly, barely contained by that transparent lace. Black. Delicate. Dangerous.
This is not awkward at all.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
Every instinct tells me to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the world disappears, to make sure nothing ever touches her again, but what if she doesn’t want that?
What if after the nightmare she just wants space?
What if all she needs is for me to stay here and stand guard while she sleeps?
“Can you cuddle me until I fall asleep?”
The question lands soft and lethal.
I take her into my arms, slow, careful, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t. Her warm skin presses against mine and something in my chest loosens even as my body tightens.
“Gladly.”
This is perfect. She is fucking perfect. And my cock hardens even more at the faintest friction of her ass against me. Painfully hard. Mocking me.
How the fuck am I supposed to fall asleep like this?
She shifts slightly to get comfortable and her ass presses back into me—
Fuck.
A low groan slips out before I can stop it.
“Can you please move the remote control?” she says, completely innocent. “I think I left it on the bed by mistake and it’s quite hard against my,” she hesitates, searching for the word, “back.”
I bite down on a laugh, jaw tight, control hanging by a thread.
“That’s not the remote control, love.”
“Oh.” She shifts, barely, but it’s enough. A slow, unconscious movement that presses her back into me just a little more, the contact deliberate enough to feel like a tease, innocent enough to destroy me.
“Mhm.” The sound leaves my throat low and rough, closer to a growl than a response. My arm tightens around her without pulling her closer, every muscle locked as I fight my own body, holding myself still while my control fractures one breath at a time.
And then she moves again.
And again.
Fuck.
These are not innocent adjustments anymore. They’re slow, deliberate, testing, each shift dragging her ass against me just enough to make my control splinter.
“Are you looking to get yourself fucked, love?” I ask, my voice low, dangerous, as I grip her hips and grind my hard cock against her ass. It’s a warning disguised as a question.
She lets out a quiet moan, soft and betraying. “I’m merely trying to find a comfortable position to sleep.”
Liar.
I pull her closer, pressing her back flush against me, my cock trapped between us, throbbing. “Would you consider a good position on top of me, riding my cock like a good girl?”
My hand slides down, unhurried, claiming. The moment my fingers reach her, I feel it, slick, warm, soaked.
“How would that make me fall asleep?” she whispers, breathless now, as I trail my fingers through her soaked cunt. Up and down. Slow. Punishing. Controlled.
“Exhaustion after being properly fucked is a very effective cure for insomnia,” I push her thong aside, testing her, then slide a finger inside her, measured, deliberate.
She gasps.
“And who’s going to take care of that?” she asks, voice trembling.
My cock pulses violently, pressure building to a breaking point. I add another finger, stretching her just enough to make her moan, my jaw tightening as I hold back everything else.
“Ah, I’d be happy to assist, love.” My voice is rough now, barely restrained. “I take sleep deprivation very seriously.”
“Do you?” she asks, whimpering, while I finger-fuck her.
I pull my boxers off and guide her on top of me, needing her close, needing to feel her weight, her warmth. I wrap my arms around her, grounding myself, forcing gentleness into every movement because she’s pregnant.
“I do, baby.” I push inside her slowly. Her warm, tight pussy welcomes me, stealing the air from my lungs.
Fuck. I take one of her nipples into my mouth, biting it just enough to make her moan.
Her hands tangle in my hair, holding me there as she starts riding me, slow and deep.
Her tits bounce in my face and fuck, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
After she gives birth, I’m going to fuck her hard.
I’ll give her gentle now, careful now, but fuck, I need to make her scream. I need to punish her. I need to fuck her until there’s nothing left of her but my name.
“Oh,” she moans, rolling her hips, riding my cock in slow, deep strokes. Her juices coat me, the wet, slapping sounds loud in the room, obscene and perfect.
I grip her hips, holding her still. I lift her slightly, then drive myself back inside her, deep, hard. Her eyes roll back.
“Lorenzo, fuck.” She moans.
“You can lie to yourself, but when you’re fucked, my name will still own you.” I repeat the motion, thrusting into her again, deep and unforgiving. “Isn’t that right, love?”
She moans as I move faster, harder, fucking her senseless. “Maybe,” she breathes.
“Maybe?” I grab a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look at me while I keep fucking her. “Even by absurd, if I ever managed to get killed, which is highly impossible,” I smirk as she rolls her eyes, still taking every thrust. “Look at me, love.”
Her gaze finds mine.
“You think you’ll replace this?” I scoff softly.
“You’ll be fucked by ghosts of me for the rest of your life.
” I feel her tighten around me, feel her losing herself.
“I’ll be your ghost,” I promise. “The one you think of every time you fuck and wish it were me.” Her back arches, her breath shatters.
“I’ll be the standard you can’t escape,” I tell her.
“Every time another man fucks you, you’ll measure him against me, and he’ll lose.
” I thrust into her one last time and she comes, her release spilling over my cock.
I don’t stop. I fuck her through it, holding her there while she trembles in my arms.
“Oh, gosh, Lorenzo,” she pleads, her voice breaking, and I fight not to come right now. I need her to understand, this pussy belongs to me. She belongs to me.
“I’m too sensitive, please, I can’t—” Her eyes roll back, her body trembling.
“Don’t worry, love,” I breathe. “You can fight it, hate it, deny it, but you’re still mine.
” I kiss her neck, slow and possessive, and whisper against her skin, “You already know the truth,” I say low.
“I’ll fuck you, love you, and ruin you until there’s no part of you that isn’t mine. ” I bite her neck hard.
She screams and comes again.
I smirk. “Until death tears us apart.”
With one final thrust, I come, spilling over her thighs. She’s drenched in sweat, pleasure tears pooling in her eyes. Those big doe eyes look at me like she wants to kill me, or suck me off. I choose to believe it’s the second.
When she tries to move away, I grab her hips.
“Kiss me.” I need to know she wants me too. That I’m not just an escape that fucks her right. I need something real, something to hold on to.
She looks annoyed. Or maybe annoyed with herself. It’s hard to tell.
She slaps me.
Ouch.
Then she kisses me, angry, sharp, reckless.
I fist my hand in her hair and kiss her back deeper, rougher. I wish I could spank her ass. I kiss her like it’s punishment, bite her lip, suck her tongue. She breathes hard, and I don’t let her pull away. She feels me hardening against her again.
“Lorenzo,” she whispers into my mouth.
I bite her lip softly. “Yeah, baby?” I murmur against her lips.
“I’m sore,” she says, kissing me back, moaning into my mouth. “I don’t think I can take it anymore. I’m so tired.”
I smile against her lips. “Told you I’d take care of your insomnia, didn’t I?”
I give her one last kiss before lifting her off me and pulling her into my arms. My cum leaks from her, her lips swollen, her tits out of air, her underwear ruined.
Perfect.
She falls asleep in less than two minutes.
And I lie there, staring at the ceiling, lost in one thought.
How the fuck am I going to win her back?