Chapter 12 #2
“I want you to fuck me where he can catch us.”
“Would you make him watch as you come on my face?” He sweeps his tongue over me again, hitting me right where I need him.
“Yes.” My spine bows at the contact.
“Tell me why, Gabi.”
I release a shaky breath, wondering if I’ll sound like a monster if I admit it. But for once, I don’t care.
“Because…I hate him.”
A soft, reverent kiss presses against my inner thigh. “Want me to kill him?”
I can’t help the awkward laugh that bursts from my chest.
“I wasn’t joking.” He teases the words against me, and something dark slithers through me—a desire I really don’t want to acknowledge.
My life would be better if Riccardo were dead, but I can’t wish that on him. So I do what I normally do in these situations and pretend it didn’t happen.
Eros licks at me with slow, lazy strokes of his tongue. It’s almost torturous, and that aching pressure inside me feels like a slow-burning flame creeping through my veins.
My fingers dig into the sofa, unable to find purchase, so I reach down and grip his hair instead.
A dark laugh rumbles from his chest as he offers me another soft stroke of his tongue.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please, what?” He presses his mouth against me and sucks, and a strangled noise catches in my throat. “Are you aching for it, baby?”
“Yes.” I tilt my hips, desperate for more friction.
“Now you know how I feel when I see you with him.”
Somewhere in the foggy part of my brain, I realize he’s telling me he has seen me with Riccardo, and it sounds like more than once. The rational part of me wants to grab onto that fact and ask more, but the baser part of me really doesn’t care right now.
“I don’t have a choice,” I groan. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” He swirls his tongue around my clit, and I almost sigh with relief as he deepens the pressure.
“Gabi?” A familiar voice echoes down the hallway as footsteps approach.
The annoyance in Riccardo’s voice pulls a sound of amusement from Eros. I don’t know how he knows it’s him, but I can tell he does.
“Be a good girl, and come on my face,” he hums.
The heat of his words rushes over me as he grips my thighs tighter and starts to devour me.
I bite my lip to stifle the sounds spilling from my throat, but I can’t control them.
It feels so intense, my entire body begins to tremble as the pressure inside me builds.
“Gabi, where the hell are you?” Riccardo calls out again.
“Oh God.” The first contraction rips through me and a cascade of pleasure follows in its wake.
Eros draws it out, wringing every last aftershock from my body until it becomes too much.
“What the fuck is going on tonight?” Riccardo grumbles to himself.
I barely register his words as Eros eases his body over mine, settling his weight between my thighs.
I reach up and graze his jaw, and he turns his head, nipping at my fingers.
Riccardo continues to pace the hallway, and the doorknob rattles, but doesn’t open.
A deranged satisfaction winds its way through me as I reach down and fumble with Eros’s belt. After I get it undone, I slide his zipper down and stroke him through his briefs.
The sound he makes nearly unravels me. He’s so hard, he has to be in agony.
“Please,” I whisper. “I want to feel you.”
“So polite when you ask me to fuck you.”
“Eros—” I peel down his briefs and slide my fingers over his warm, velvety skin.
“Tell me his name,” he says.
“Who?”
“Your megalodon.”
I freeze as the question enters my thoughts.
There’s no way he could possibly know I inadvertently pictured Romeo’s face behind the mask. But my guilty conscience seems to think otherwise.
It’s not intentional. It’s my mind filling in the blanks I can’t.
Romeo and I have nothing. We are nothing—except two people with battle wounds and too much history to forget.
“I don’t want to,” I answer quietly.
“Worried I’ll get jealous?” He thrusts into my fist, and my thighs clench as the empty space inside me aches for him.
“I…don’t know?” My voice catches.
“Is he who you think about when I touch you?”
I stiffen, and I’m sure he can feel it. This is a dangerous game, and I don’t know how to navigate it. I don’t want to be dishonest, but I still feel protective of Romeo.
Eros shifts his hips, and my hand falls away.
I’m afraid he’s going to leave me, but he lowers his body over mine and glides his cock through my arousal.
As he sinks inside me, I soften beneath him, shivering when his fingers graze my face.
“Someday, you’ll tell me.” He rolls his hips, and my head falls back as a wave of pleasure ripples through me.
“Good?” He teases his lips against my jaw as I drag my hands over the length of his back and pull him closer.
“So good,” I murmur.
It’s different than yesterday. My body is more relaxed, and even though I’m sore, it doesn’t sting. When he slowly withdraws and thrusts back into me, warmth floods my insides, and I melt into the sofa beneath him.
He dips his head and kisses his way down my neck, nipping and sucking as I paw at his clothes until I touch bare skin. He’s so warm, I want to wrap him around me like a blanket.
With every thrust, his muscles tense and contract, and I clench around him in response. Rough sounds of pleasure vibrate in his chest as he thrusts deeper, setting a more frantic pace.
I feel it all the way down to my toes as I scratch at his back, desperate to get closer to him. It’s terrifying to want something this much. It can’t be normal.
I’ve only been with him twice, and the intensity of our connection isn’t rational. But I know I’m not the only one afflicted by it.
He bites at my collarbone and sucks on my neck, branding me with his lips and teeth. With every thrust, his breath grows more ragged, and the sounds that pour out of him are nothing short of agony.
It’s hard to fathom that I could make anyone feel that way, but I want more than anything to relieve him of that ache.
I wrap my legs around him and draw him even closer, untangling one of my hands from his shirt so I can reach up and touch his face.
He shifts then, lips finding mine in the dark, and we come together in a blaze of heat as he thrusts into me one last time.
He comes with a groan, cock pulsing as warmth floods inside me. It’s a long, slow release, and he draws it out with a languid kiss that neither of us wants to end.
When we do finally come up for air, my lips are swollen and I feel slightly drunk.
He brushes the hair back from my face, and even though he can’t see me, I feel his gaze.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
His softly spoken words send a shiver through me. There’s something about that confession that feels significant, but my brain is too far gone to make sense of it.
My eyes are heavy, and I don’t want to move. I could probably fall asleep right here.
That’s when I remember Riccardo and his friends are still just a stone’s throw away. Their voices filter through the darkness as footsteps echo up and down the hall. As I turn my head, the light of a phone reflects off the door pane.
A frisson of panic sinks in as the doorknob wiggles again.
“Eros,” I choke out.
He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest as his lips brush my ear.
“Would you apologize to him if he saw us like this?”
My chest constricts as I think it through. For a moment, I pretend that I live in a world where I have the choice.
“No.”
“And what about your megalodon?” he asks. “Would you apologize to him?”
I swallow, pain squeezing my throat shut. This time, I can’t pretend.
I’m not sure whether it’s my silence or the prospect of being caught that makes Eros withdraw from my body.
But any worry I have that he’s angry dissolves when I feel him slide my underwear back into place and press his fingers into the fabric.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s soaking them with the cum that’s still leaking out of me. It feels possessive and weirdly hot.
That thought disappears into a void as he zips his pants back up and helps me adjust my dress. The idea of going back to the dinner party fills me with dread, and I’m not sure I can do it. There’s also the small issue that I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this room unnoticed.
Eros seems to sense my mental spiral as he eases himself onto the sofa and pulls me onto his lap.
He wraps an arm around my waist protectively as I settle my head against his chest. Somehow, that small gesture unravels all the tension from the day, and I close my eyes as he combs his fingers through my hair.
I should care a lot more than I do that Riccardo is out there looking for me, or that someone could open that door at any moment. But in the arms of this man, I feel like nothing can hurt me. It’s reckless and foolish, but I want to believe it, at least for a little while.
“How did you know I was here?” I press my fingers against his chest, smoothing them over the fabric of his shirt.
“Do you really want to know? Because it won’t be a comfortable truth.”
I swallow and choose not to answer, accepting that this dynamic between us isn’t normal.
This is his way of reminding me that he’s stalking me—the depths of which I’m not sure I want to know.
And the worst part is, it’s not because I’m afraid.
It’s because there’s some twisted part of me that likes it.
The man is a walking red flag, and my brain has malfunctioned to the point that I get butterflies when I see how far he’s willing to go for me. It’s beyond unhinged.
He’s killed for me, and I don’t even care.
I'm not sure what that says about me, but I don’t have the energy to worry about it right now. I can feel my eyes growing heavier, and if I don’t move soon, I’m going to fall asleep.
“How are we getting out of here?” I ask. “My guard will probably come looking for me soon.”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“No.” I swallow. “I don’t want to go back out there with him.”
“Good.” He tilts my head and presses his lips against my temple. “Because I don’t share, Gabi.”