CHAPTER 17
Caroline
“How many times did you have sex last night?” Michael punctuates every word by pointing his fork at me. “Now. I need every detail of last night.”
I shrug, but I’m sure a faint blush creeps up my neck anyway.
“Oh, please. Spill the tea. Now.” Michael laughs, delighted, eyes bright with anticipation. “Tell me. I am rapidly running out of patience.”
“Do I really have to give you a full, explicit breakdown of my sex life?” I try to dodge, sawing into my steak with the ferocity of someone who hasn’t eaten all day.
I left around eight-thirty this morning, barely functional, running on fumes and endorphins after a long, very excellent night full of pleasure with Edoardo - luckily, Michael was still dead asleep.
I powered through the entire day until my body finally surrendered, and then met Michael here for dinner, his choice of steakhouse, because “you need red meat to keep your sex drive up,” his words, not mine.
“Now. Details.” Michael drops his fork and dramatically lifts his steak knife, pointing it at me like a prosecutor mid-trial, fully committing to the performance.
I pop a juicy piece of steak into my mouth, chew slowly, then lower my voice. “He’s good,” I say. “Great.”
“What?” Michael shrieks. “No. Absolutely not. That isn’t a detail.”
“Well…” I sigh, reaching for my wine. “He’s ravenous. Dominating. Sexy.” I sip my Syrah, hoping it disguises my blush.
“Oh yes. Yes. Yes. I knew he’d be a beast in bed.” Michael’s eyes glaze over, already drifting into fantasy. “I’m imagining Edoardo naked, thoroughly ruining you until you’re both reduced to boneless wreckage.”
“Stop,” I warn him, mortified.
“I knew it,” he says smugly. “I’m never wrong, darling.” He raises his glass. “Cheers to an exceptional London sexperience, my love.”
“Sexperience?” I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
We clink glasses and drink our utterly ridiculous sex toast. What am I even becoming, fodder for Michael’s vicarious erotic theater?
“But how many times?” he presses, relentless. “And are you seeing each other tonight?”
My phone buzzes before I can respond.
“How was your day?” Edoardo texts.
Michael arches a brow at me. I pointedly ignore him.
“Decent,” I text back. “How about yours?”
“Gallery did great today. I was home most of the day and just got here a few hours ago. You tired?” Edoardo replies
“A little.”
“Would you like me to take you out to dinner?”
Michael stares at me like he’s watching live theater. “Edoardo is asking you out, isn’t he?”
I nod.
Michael yelps, genuinely thrilled. “Go. Go. I can entertain myself.”
“No,” I snort. “You and I are in the middle of eating dinner together.”
“But we’re flying out tomorrow,” he insists. “You won’t see him for another two or three weeks. Darling, good sex should always be prioritized.” He winks.
“Nah. He can wait,” I say, cutting myself another piece of steak. “I’m not ditching you.”
We had an explosive evening. Edoardo took me over and over, dominating the entire time and making me come so hard that I saw stars. But excellent sex is excellent sex. I won’t abandon my friend for it.
Michael sighs dramatically, clearly unconvinced, but lets it go. A few minutes later, my phone buzzes again.
“You must be with Michael now. Have fun and text me back later then?”
I send back a thumbs-up and return my attention to dinner. Thankfully, Michael shifts topics, launching into an animated monologue about which shops he needs to raid tomorrow and what Christmas gifts he should buy for friends and family in London.
***
After sending Michael home, my car drops me at Edoardo’s house. Michael and I spent nearly two hours just driving through London with no destination, just watching the city glow, dressed head-to-toe in holiday lights and anticipation.
I ring the bell. Edoardo opens the door himself instead of his house staff.
“Come in.” He pulls me inside and kisses me softly. “How was dinner?”
“It was good. Did you eat?”
“Yeah. My cook made me cacio e pepe.” He smiles, tugging me toward the lounge a few doors down. “Drink? Dessert? Anything?”
“I’m bursting,” I laugh softly. “A drink would be perfect. No food.”
“Okay. Drinks are there. Desserts too, just in case. No pressure.”
He pours whiskey for both of us and joins me on the couch. In jeans and a T-shirt, he looks relaxed, effortlessly magnetic.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “What happened at work this morning that made you leave early?”
I tell him briefly about my suspicions of the unethical behaviors in my regional office and the mole inside my inner circle. He listens without interrupting, his arm tightening as I settle into him.
“That’s rough,” he says quietly. “You can cut off the head of the snake eventually. But if you don’t know who’s compromised - that’s what hurts.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “And I need someone as my eyes and ears that I can trust completely. No more leaks.”
“Is that why you met Connor’s ex the other week?” he asks carefully.
I lift my head, narrowing my eyes. “How do you know?”
“I connected the dots,” he smiles.
“Hm.” He’s sharper than I gave him credit for.
“You operate with principles,” he continues. “So whoever you choose next has to be someone you or your circle trusts. Celina fits. And you like her. I can tell.”
I smile at his mentioning of my friends and Celina. I do like her a lot, a bit shy but smart and fiercely loyal.
Edoardo stretches his legs, making himself more comfortable and pulling me closer, wrapping his arms around me completely this time.
“Are you tired?” He asks. “I at least rested a bit more this morning.”
“A bit. But please wake me up if I fall asleep, okay. I have a ten a.m. meeting to get to tomorrow morning.” I stretch like a cat next to him.
“I’ll get you home safely,” he murmurs. “Or you can stay here. I promise I’ll get you to work on time.”
His lips brush mine, warm breath grazing my cheek.
“If I fall asleep, I’m dead weight,” I say. “Just let me sleep right here.”
He chuckles. “You don’t remember the last time I drove you home, do you?”
I shake my head.
“You fell asleep in my car. I couldn’t wake you, so I carried you upstairs to your room.” Edoardo smiles.
I sit up sharply. “What?”
“That was the night I realized I was attracted to you,” he says easily. “You soaked in the rain. Asleep on my shoulder. The weight of you in my arms.”
“What did I do?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. I was just… captivated.”
“And did I drool on you?” I blurt.
He laughs. “No.” His eyes darken as his hand threads into my hair.
He kisses me unhurriedly. His soft and warm lips pressure gently on mine and my lips part instantly, inviting him in.
His tongue glides against mine, devouring me with deliberate patience.
“But your blouse clung to every curve of your breasts.”
I moan as he deepens the kiss, pulling our bodies flush. He nips my lower lip, sucks it into his mouth, and drags his teeth gently over it, sending delicious shivers down my spine. Need blooms low and hot between my thighs.
More. Everywhere inside me screams for more.
“Caroline,” he groans, rolling over me. His heat, his scent, overwhelming and intoxicating, envelop me. His mouth trails down my neck, my collarbones.
And I want him everywhere. Inside me. Over me. Consuming me.
I pull his T-shirt up. He breaks the kiss just long enough for me to strip it off. His mouth returns immediately, kissing down to my breasts.
“Your breasts,” he murmurs, kissing through fabric. “Your peaked nipples in that white silk. No bra. Were you trying to kill me that night at my party?”
My hands work on his belt as he unzips my dress, pulls it down with my bra, then pauses - taking me in. “Magnificent.”
His mouth closes over my breast and devours it.
I moan as his hand squeezes, teases, flicks my hardened nipple.
I arch to give him even more access, my ache intensifying like a burning flame.
My arms fall back, bracing as he kisses, sucks, palms me.
His teeth rake my nipples, just enough roughness to send white-hot sensation everywhere.
I want him desperately. I want to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, warm and real and undeniable.
I want his mouth on me everywhere, teasing, learning, claiming.
I want the weight of his body over mine, the thick hard length of him inside me, the certainty of him moving and unraveling me completely.
I want him to make the world and all my troubles fade away, until there’s nothing left but him, his hands, his mouth, his touch, his presence, his everything.
His hands slide down, pushing my thong aside, fingers finding my swollen clit. Small, gentle circles. Then firmer. Another finger, flicking the folds and stroking harder. I whimper.
“Fingers or mouth?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.
I kiss him deeply, one more data point.
“Mouth.”
He gives it to me, his tongue hot and relentless. He eats me like he’s starved, hands squeezing my breasts as he sucks, licks, pulls me apart. Strings of sounds tear from me, filthy and endless.
I can’t breath, I can’t think. I just want…
“I need you inside,” I beg. “Please.”
“Look at you,” he smirks. “Desperate.”
I reach between our bodies, wrapping my hands around his hot hardness through the fabric and squeezing it.
“Fuck,” he groans. Our hands desperately join the urgency to push down his pants and any fabric that separates our bare skins. He rolls to grab a condom.
“Inside me,” I breathe.
One thrust and he fills me completely. Pleasure crashes through us both.
“Look at us.” Edoardo slides a hand to station my waist as he starts moving inside me. “You fit me perfectly.” He withdraws and slams back in. It feels too good. He feels too good. I need more.
“Deeper. Harder.” I demand in a whimpering voice. I push against the couch to give me leverage to arch into his thrust, to move with him, to take more the length of his. Every thrust is more powerful, better than last. “I want more.”
He slides his hands under my ass and holds me up, angling for a deeper drive. He hits a sweet sharp spot that tears a cry from my throat.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yes.” I whimper again. “Don’t stop. Keep going. Right there.”
He hits that sweet spot again and again.
Oh God, this is what I want, him above me with his weight, his bare chest on my naked breasts, him inside me with his size and his focus to satisfy us, his hands holding me tight while he pounds into me, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.
The sensation, the sweet pleasure, the exquisite feel of his cock stretching, filling every inch of me. I can’t get enough of this.
“You are so fucking soft.” Edoardo groans. “How the hell could you be that ripped and still this soft?”
I’m a writhing flame under him now. The pressure coiled in my core is so sweet, the sensation burns through me like wildfire.
His thrusts become harder. He yanks me closer to the edge and pushes my legs a little higher for a deeper angle.
“Caroline,” He breathe. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.” He thrusts into me, hard and brutal. I am spiraling down for a tornado of blissful orgasm soon. I’m so close. I know it.
“Come, baby.” He drives his hips into me, hitting my inner walls.
He hits it hard again, again and again. Another thrust and my thighs tremble.
He tears through me with another thrust and I shatter with a cry.
He holds me as I ride the bliss out, panting, limping.
He pumps his hips frantically and consumes me with everything I could possibly think of.
A few more thrusts and he finally shudders with a roar, emptying himself inside me.
We collapse, his arm cradling my head, his weight anchoring me. We stay tangled together, breaths slowly syncing, the world muted and distant. In the steady weight of his arm and the warmth pressed against me, everything sharp inside me finally softens and for the first time today, I relax.
I like this feeling. Grounded. Peaceful. Satisfied.