Chapter 39 Allegra
ALLEGRA
"Little tigress…" I turn to see a sleepy Enzo come into the kitchen. He's wearing only a pair of sweatpants, so his chest is bare, muscular, and ah…
I clench my thighs together, once again hit by a combination of lust and hunger—but now it's cake and sex combined.
Damn it!
"What's wrong?" He immediately comes to my side, sporting a worried frown. "Is it the baby? Are you feeling ill? I can call 911," he continues, and my annoyance increases.
"Stop," I put one hand on his arm, squeezing it, and the other to my forehead, massaging my temples.
Just at that moment, my stomach growls with hunger. Enzo's eyes widen before a smile stretches across his face.
"What do you want to eat?" he asks, amused.
"Cherry cake," I grumble, knowing there's no cherry cake. My gaze lowers down his chest to his sweatpants… I lick my lips. "But I might settle for something else," I say, but he just chuckles. Swooping me into the air, he plants me on the table.
"Cherry cake it is then," he winks at me before looking through the cupboards for ingredients.
"But we don't have cherries," I sigh, disappointed.
He purses his lips, and taking out his phone, he barks some commands.
"We'll have them in a bit," he assures me.
And he's right. An order of cherries arrives not thirty minutes after he hangs up.
Enzo forces me to remain where I am, saying he's going to take care of everything. He washes the cherries carefully, after which he starts on the batter.
"Do you know what you're doing?" I ask as he looks perplexed at the ingredients.
He shrugs, pulling up his phone to Google a recipe.
"It can't be that hard," he replies cockily.
An hour and two failed batters later, it is that hard.
I watch in delight as he struggles with the right consistency. The entire kitchen is a mess; there's flour on the floor, on the counter, and on Enzo himself.
His entire chest is painted white, and half his face too.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?"
"I got this." He narrows his eyes at his phone. "I think I know what went wrong."
He goes back to mixing the batter, and I can't hide my amusement anymore when the second bag of flour explodes at the bottom, its contents falling down on him.
"You clearly don't." I jump off the table to help him.
"No, you shouldn't exert yourself." He's quick to stop me, but I swat his hands aside.
"Enzo, I am cranky and hungry, and you look like you've never been in a kitchen before." A sheepish smile appears on his face at my tirade, so I raise an eyebrow. "You haven't, have you?" I almost groan.
"Guilty. But it can't be that hard."
"Have you seen yourself in the last couple of hours? It is that hard. For you. Now step aside." I playfully smack him with my butt, moving him aside as I start assembling the ingredients again.
"Watch and learn, city boy."
I start on the eggs, adding some sugar and beating them together until I have a nice, thick consistency.
"See, it's not that difficult," he notes ironically as I finish mixing all the ingredients into a cohesive whole.
I tilt my head as I study him. "And yet someone couldn't get it right even on the third try."
"Hey! I got the cherries," he defends himself, hand on his heart as if I just hurt his manly pride.
Finishing everything, I put the cake tray in the oven.
"Now we wait." I take a seat on a chair, my gaze fixed on the oven clock.
Just a little longer…
My mouth is already salivating at the thought of having the spongy cake melt in my mouth. Closing my eyes, a soft moan escapes me.
But then I open my eyes to find Enzo on his knees before me, his hand on my belly, an expression of awe on his face.
He fits his palm over the small bump.
"It grows so fast," he says, almost breathlessly.
It's also the first time he's touched me like this in weeks.
"You know," I start, my fingers trailing all over his face and smearing the flour around, "I'm not made of glass. I'm not going to break if you…" I trail off, the sudden darkening of his eyes telling me it's not for lack of desire.
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his hand drifting lower. A breath catches in my throat, excitement building inside me.
"You won't. The doctor said it's okay if we're careful."
His face comes closer to mine, and I wet my lips, ready for the much-anticipated kiss. We're a mere breath away from each other when the alarm on the oven ticks.
Damn…
Enzo smirks at me as he dons a pair of mittens, takes the cake out, and puts it on the table.
Too impatient, I take it out of the tray and cut it into pieces, taking one and blowing on it. Enzo is quick to swipe it out of my hand, shaking his head at me.
"Wait. It's too hot." I pout at him.
Reluctantly, I wait a couple of minutes, but my gaze never strays from the cake. Again, Enzo surprises me by trying the cake before giving me his approval.
"Finally," I sigh in pleasure as I bite into the cake. I devour one piece, then another.
Enzo's staring at me with an odd expression on his face as I chew on the cake, so I find myself asking, "What?"
"You're so pretty when you're happy." His words take me aback, especially since I don't detect any untruths on his face. "And before you come for me," he continues, "I'm not lying or trying to butter you up. It's simply the truth."
"Then why don't you do something about it?" I ask shamelessly.
"God, do I want to…" he groans, taking a step forward. Winding my arms around his neck, I raise myself on my tiptoes to lay a kiss on his lips.
"You know," I start, caressing his face with mine, the flour slightly abrasive against my skin, "pregnant women have needs."
"Do they?" he cups my cheeks in his hands, his nose nuzzling mine in a sweet gesture. "What my woman wants, I'll have to oblige." His words send a shiver down my back, particularly the fact that he called me his woman.
"Kiss me, damn…" I don't get to finish my words as his mouth is on mine. His hands move down my body until he grabs my ass, lifting me into him. Wrapping my legs around his torso, his hard length comes right into contact with my center, a prickle of awareness turning into a mountain of sensation.
"Damn, sleeping next to you and not touching you was pure torture," he admits, his voice rough.
"You're not the only one."
And I also have pregnancy hormones that make me a horny mess. But I refrain from saying that out loud.
He places me on the table, his fingers slowly skimming along the inside of my thighs before slipping my panties off my legs.
"Slow… we need to go slow," he mutters, almost as if he's trying to convince himself of that.
He finds me slick and wet, but as he plays with me, I find that I lack the patience for foreplay.
I tug at his pants, pushing them down his hips and wrapping my hand around his cock.
"Inside. Now," I urge, guiding him toward my entrance.
"Your wish is my command. Always," he whispers in my hair as his head nudges against my heat. He's teasing me as he strokes his cock along the seam of my pussy, coating it in my wetness.
"Fuck, my little tigress," he grits his teeth as he sinks into me slowly, inch by inch.
We both moan at the sensation, our mouths fused to one another. He holds me close to his chest as he pushes in all the way, settling deep inside me.
Staring into each other's eyes, he thrusts into me slowly, and I feel every bit of him as he completes me. His hand is stroking my cheek, his thumb parting my lips and sneaking inside.
I suck it into my mouth, all the while not taking my eyes off him.
I don't know if it's the pregnancy emotions that are simply out of control, but feeling him so deep inside causes me to tear up. I make to avert my face, embarrassed by this sudden outburst.
"Shh, baby girl. I'm here with you." His hands keep my head in place, his gaze unwavering. "Let it all out." His tone is gentle, and somehow it all crashes down.
I wrap my hands around his neck, my heels digging into his ass as I urge him on.
The tears flow freely as my entire body is flooded with love—for him and for our baby.
"Ah, Enzo…" I start before I can stop myself, "how I wish you were all mine." Unrequited love and longing imbue my words with hopelessness.
"I am, little tigress. All yours," he replies, his lips trailing around my cheek, kissing the tears away.
"I wish I could believe you," I whisper, a tight lump forming in my chest.
"Trust me." His fingers grasp my ass, impaling me with a hard thrust. "You have all of me." He lays his forehead on top of mine, his hips still pumping in and out of me.
I feel the moment nearing, and I grab on to his shoulders, holding him close and absorbing the meaning of his words.
I really wish I could believe him.
But I don't.
My entire body convulses as I come around him, tears still leaking from my eyes. My pussy grips him tightly, and he soon follows, spilling himself inside me.
On a ragged breath, the euphoria of the orgasm makes him whisper sweet words in my ear.
I hold on to those words, clinging to a hopeless hope that nonetheless still exists in my heart.
Wretched is the one who loves but can never be loved back.
Even as I know his words to be a lie, I accept them. I'll remain in my shackles as I watch the shadowy illusions play on the wall, and somehow I'll make myself believe they're true.
Because the alternative is a long, suffocating death of my soul.