40. Massimo
Chapter 40
Massimo
M argot appears at the top of the stairs, a duffel bag in hand and a forlorn look on her face that I’m certain matches my own. I didn’t think she’d really leave . Not after I told her what I said to Antonio. But I guess it’s too little, too late.
When she reaches the bottom step, her gaze lifts to mine before it falls away and she crosses the distance between us. Her face is a perfectly painted mask when she comes to a stop in front of me, dropping the bag at her feet.
An ache settles in my chest as my eyes search her red-rimmed ones. She’s been crying? Because she doesn’t want to go or because she can’t believe she’s finally free?
“Could you arrange for someone to drive me to the city?” she asks, her voice quiet and nothing like the woman I married.
I work my jaw, overcome with emotions I can’t quite identify. “Daniele will take you. Where are you going?”
She looks at the floor, her shoulders dropping as she sighs heavily. “To Josephine’s, for now at least. But I won’t stay there for long, given… everything.”
Will she go back to Ethan?
The question hits me like a sucker punch, robbing the air from my lungs. I know that I can’t stop her, but he’s no good for her. She belongs with me .
A door opens somewhere at the back of the house, and without thinking, I take hold of her arm and pull her into the living room. Nobody else needs to witness this.
I kick the door shut behind us and we’re blanketed in a vacuum of silence.
My gaze shifts to the table behind her, the one we sat at mere moments ago. The one that ended our marriage. No, I ended our marriage . A stupid game that I thought I’d win but really I left our future up to chance and I fucking lost.
Margot turns, walking to stand at the back of the couch before huffing out a shaky breath and lifting her head to the ceiling. I want to beg her to stay, but what would be the use? She’d only tell me no, because if that was what she wanted, she never would have packed her bag. She wouldn’t be leaving .
With only my instinct to guide me, I cross the room, standing behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. I drop my forehead to her shoulder and breathe in her sweet scent.
If this is it, I need to feel her one last time. To imprint the memory of her onto my skin. I need something I can hold on to in the dark hours when I long for her.
I dust my lips over her shoulder and she angles her head away from me, exposing the smooth column of her throat. This is the beginning of the end for us .
Closing my eyes, I squeeze her tighter before smoothing my hand over her stomach and down the front of her thigh. She places her hand over mine. I expect her to pull it away, but instead, she guides it under her skirt and to the cotton covered mound of her pussy.
“Massimo,” she whimpers.
The urge to beg her not to go hums inside of me, but the words won’t come out. Instead, as her wetness soaks the material of her panties, I slide my hand to cup her breast, massaging it along with her clit.
My cock throbs in the confines of my pants, painfully hard and desperate to feel her wrapped around it. One last time . I don’t want to rush this, but I need her like I need my next breath. How am I going to survive when she’s gone?
“Margot,” I groan when she arches her back and presses her ass against my erection.
I slip my hand into her panties, my fingers seeking out the swollen nub of her clit and applying a light pressure. Almost immediately, her hips buck; her silent plea for more. She’s drenched, so I slide two fingers into her tight pussy, pressing my palm to her clit. She convulses around me, riding my hand, taking what she needs.
A strangled cry tears from her as she stiffens, her orgasm sounding almost painful. Light spasms wrack through her body, and while she’s still riding the wave of her climax, I free my aching cock.
Pre-cum beads at the tip, running down the slit and dripping to the floor. I don’t care about the mess, my only thought is burying myself in her one last time.
Removing my hand from her panties, I fist the fabric and move it to the side, sliding my cock through her slick folds before lining up my head with her entrance.
Pressing forward, I grit my teeth as her body envelops me. Fuck . Margot moans, indecipherable words spilling from her lips as her fingers grip the back of the couch. Our labored breaths mingle in the air.
Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a motor running, before I pull back and then thrust forward, losing myself in how well we fit together until it’s all I can focus on.
Picking up my pace, I fall victim to my desperation, my movements jerky and uncoordinated as I search for my release. “Tell me you hate me,” I command.
She doesn’t say anything, so I lift the hem of her dress higher, fisting it in one hand as I smack her ass with the other. Margot cries out, her cheek almost instantly turning the most perfect shade of red.
Fuck, it’s hard to think.
“Tell me you fucking hate me,” I rasp.
Breathlessly, she gasps, “No.”
God . I need her to tell me that she does. That is the only explanation for why she’s leaving me. I love her and she’s fucking leaving me. I love her . The realization rips my heart from my chest. “Fucking say it, Margot—” My voice breaks on the words, even as I spill my cum inside of her one last time.
“I don’t hate you,” she cries out as she quivers around me, her body going tense. She convulses and covers her mouth with her hand before releasing a sob.
She doesn’t hate me .
If she did, maybe letting her go wouldn’t feel like I’d taken a bullet to the chest. Her head falls forward and I pull out of her, tucking myself back in before I straighten her panties and drop her dress back into place.
What we just did doesn’t feel like goodbye. It felt like our souls entwined. I thought that the attacks on my family were going to be my biggest fight, but surviving Margot? That might just kill me.
I can’t watch her leave . I can’t be here as she walks out of the door, never to return.
Resting my hands on her hips, I hold her still, refusing to let her see me when I say, “I’ll have the papers couriered to Josephine’s house.”
Margot nods, not looking up.
I want to tell her to stay. I want to beg her not to walk away. But I don’t. No, I can’t .
I’m Massimo fucking Marino, and I don’t beg.
So instead, I walk away, the warmth of her already starting to fade from my life.