Chapter Fifty-One Lily #2
“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice raspy, as if he is the one being pleasured right now.
“Yes,” I confess with a weak voice.
He slips a third finger inside, stretching me until I can no longer keep my eyes open.
“Let me make you happy.” The way he says it makes me think he is talking about more than sex. Again.
“I’ll be the happiest after I come.”
He chuckles while continuing his slow, blissful torture.
“Please.” I reach for his cock and find pre-cum dripping from the tip.
“Depends on if you’re ready to accept what’s happening between us.”
He sucks in a sharp breath when I tease the head with my thumb, collecting his arousal before bringing it to my mouth. His sharp eyes follow my tongue as it darts out to taste his pleasure.
“How do I taste?” His husky voice hits me like a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Like mine .”
“Look who’s the possessive one now.” More arousal coats his crown, a clear sign of how he feels about our mutual obsession.
I want to take him into my mouth, but Lorenzo seems to have other plans as he pulls his fingers back.
He lines his cock up, only to rear back with a curse. I never thought I’d enjoy a man forgetting to put on a condom, but Lorenzo being so out of his mind from lust makes me smile.
His body is visibly trembling by the time he puts a condom on and returns to his spot between my thighs.
“You okay?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.
He wraps a hand around his shaft and drags it across my slit. “I will be.”
I wrap my legs around his waist to draw him closer. His control is far better than mine, because with every swipe of his tip over my dripping center, I feel my hold on reality slip.
“Lorenzo,” I whine, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears.
“Tell me what we both need to hear.”
We . Not him. Not me. But we .
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, hoping it does the trick.
He abandons his idea and reaches underneath my ass to lift me up instead. “Try again.”
“I need your cock inside me. Right. Now.”
His fingers dig into my flesh hard enough to bruise. Since his hands are occupied, I reach for his dick, but he has my hands secured above my head before I can touch him.
“Since you’re having trouble, I’ll give you a hint. Three words. Eight letters—five of which are vowels.”
“I hate you.”
His kiss is punishing. Brutal . So damn possessive, I’m convinced my lips will carry the evidence of his abuse for days to come.
“I’m feeling extra generous with you today, so I’ll give you one more try.”
“Why are you doing this?” Frustrated tears spring to my eyes.
“Because I want a chance to say it back.”
I feel like he wrapped his hands around my throat rather than my wrists. “You love me?”
He stares at me, his face a blank slate of nothing.
The walls feel as if they’re closing in around me, and my ears start ringing, drowning out whatever Lorenzo is trying to say.
We can both admit how far we’ve fallen, but what if it isn’t enough? Lorenzo could change his mind tomorrow about staying, and—
He releases my hands so he can cradle my face. “Hey.”
I don’t respond.
“Take a deep breath.”
I follow his command.
His mouth curls. “It’ll be okay, all right?”
“How do you know?”
“Because so long as I love you and you love me, we can get through anything together. That much I can promise.”
A single tear falls down my cheek, and he kisses it away like it never existed. He then kisses my cheeks. The tip of my nose. The corner of my lips, the top of my forehead, and the curve of my jaw.
I’ve never felt so loved in my life. So cherished . Maybe that’s why I finally give Lorenzo the three words he has been waiting to hear.
“I love you,” I say as I fight to keep the tears at bay.
His sharpness melts away, his eyes softening in a way that I’ve never seen happen around anyone else.
“I love you too,” he repeats—first in English, then in Italian—as he sinks inside me.
He says he loves me as he drives into me, his pace going from soft and slow to deliriously unrelenting. He says it while he leaves kisses on every inch of my skin within his reach, and he works the same phrase out of me a few times.
But nothing compares to the way I feel loved when we both finally come. He cuddles me first, and then he kisses me until I’m breathless again, which was probably a strategy to keep me in bed while he grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned me up.
When the post-orgasmic haze disappears and the warmth from earlier fades, I’m left feeling cold, pulsing dread because can I really trust what Lorenzo said?
Has our situation changed, or did we only complicate it further with deeper, more complex feelings?
“Don’t,” he says, as if commanding me will stop the mix of guilt and panic brewing in my stomach.
I can’t look at him as he grabs a fresh pair of underwear for me from the dresser. They’re not a pair I purchased, but they’re the same brand he yanked off me earlier.
His attention to detail should make me happy, but it only makes the fear growing inside me worsen.
“Lily. No. You don’t get to doubt us now.” He climbs back onto the bed and cups my cheeks. “And you do not get to regret telling me you love me. Do you hear me?”
“But what if—”
He slams his mouth over mine, kissing me until I forget about whatever I was protesting about.
His breathing is ragged by the time he pulls away.
“Get angry at me. Yell at me. Ask me a hundred questions, and I’ll answer each one honestly—”
“Tell me why you said you’d leave if you lost the election.”
His lips press firmly together.
“You promised to be honest.”
He nods. “I did.” He slowly slides off the bed and heads to the closet.
“Where are you going?” I rise onto my elbows.
The closet’s automatic light switches on, revealing a row of dresses in all shapes, materials, and vivid colors. Not a single black stitch to be accounted for.
If I didn’t have a bigger task to focus on, I’d ask him when he bought all those clothes for me. My guess is sometime before the debate.
Lorenzo disappears around the corner and returns carrying one of his T-shirts. I throw it on while he pulls on a pair of new boxer briefs.
“So?” I say once we’re both no longer naked.
“Do you want a drink for this conversation?”
“Do I need one?”
“Maybe.”
I shake my head. “I’ll take Daisy though.”
He opens the door and calls her name. She runs down the hall and skids to a stop by his feet, and I expect him to order her to the dog bed in the corner. Instead he pats the mattress, and she jumps onto the bed and curls into a ball beside me.
That should’ve been my first clue that I wouldn’t like whatever he is about to share, but it’s the second one that makes me uneasy. Because Lorenzo is visibly trembling , and I’m no longer afraid of how he could hurt me but rather what could’ve hurt him .