CHAPTER 29
Edoardo
Caroline tries to deflect, joking about the nickname and about punching Ethan, but I can feel the deeper current beneath it, the tremor she can’t quite hide, the way she’s poised on the knife-edge between instinct and fear.
My chest tightens, a fierce mix of awe and aching happiness, because she’s lowered her guard - just enough - and chosen to meet me halfway.
I thread a hand through her silk-soft hair, cradling the nape of her neck as my mouth claims hers.
I kiss her slowly, fiercely, savoring the plush heat of her lips as they soften and yield, molding perfectly against mine.
I kiss her until her mouth is swollen and tender, until I’ve tasted every breath she gives me, until she feels utterly devoured.
I murmur into the kiss, voice rough as my hands begin to strip her down. “I miss you, every morning when I wake, every night when I try to sleep.”
“Fuck me then,” she breathes against my mouth, tugging at my shirt, dragging it over my head with impatient hands. “Don’t make me wait, Edoardo.”
“Patience,” I murmur, though my own control is fraying, my palms sliding over the lush curve of her ass as I haul her onto my lap. “I promise you’re going to limp into work today, Cara.”
She whimpers as my lips trail down her throat, my mouth mapping the delicate line of her neck, the soft hollow at her collarbone, the warm weight of her breasts.
“I don’t…” A broken moan spills from her. “I need you.” Her voice climbs, breath hitching as I draw a nipple into my mouth, sucking slowly, deliberately. My hands knead and tease, fingers and tongue working together until she arches helplessly into me.
“Don’t… make me… wait… for it, E…doar…do,” she gasps, the syllables dissolving as her back bows further, offering more of herself. Her hands slip behind me, finding me through my briefs, squeezing.
“Fuck,” I growl, tearing my mouth from her breast. “You asked for this, Cara.”
I flip her beneath me in one fluid motion, both of us frantic now, hands clawing at fabric. Pajama shorts, thong, briefs – all ripped away, shredded, flung somewhere neither of us cares to look.
I push into her without hesitation, one deep, ruthless thrust that buries me to the hilt. The sound that rips from both of us is raw, unguarded. She arches up to meet me, dragging me into a desperate, hungry kiss.
I move fast, long, and brutally deep. Each thrust drives me against that inner wall and she cries out into my mouth, never breaking the kiss. It turns ravenous, feral - tongues, teeth, breathless groans every time I slam into that perfect spot again.
I brace one arm above her head, driving into her with relentless force until we’re shoved halfway up the mattress. Breaking the kiss, I slide an arm beneath her hips, dragging pillows and blankets into a rough pile, lifting her, anchoring her at the perfect angle.
“Hold on, baby.” It’s the only warning she gets.
I grip the headboard and pound into her, relentless, devouring. There’s nothing gentle about this, only hunger, heat, and the wildfire of days spent apart finally igniting.
Her body convulses beneath me. I thrust impossibly deep and she screams, loud enough to wake the whole house.
“You okay?” I rasp, not slowing, not able to.
“Good,” she moans, voice shaking. “I’m… good. Don’t stop.”
The sounds spilling from her - broken, filthy, and beautiful - are a song made only for me. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Nothing could drag me away from the slick heat of her, the tight pulse of her around me. This moment is ours, every cry, every plea for more.
“More,” she whispers hoarsely into my ear. “I need more. Harder.”
“On your knees, Cara.” I pull free and turn her, guiding her forward. “Arms on the headboard.”
I cage her from behind, nudging her knees wider with my own. One arm wraps around her waist, hauling her back against me while the other braces the headboard. I drive into her again without warning.
She’s trapped between my body and the wood, held exactly where I want her, able to move only the way I move her, taking everything I give, nothing held back.
“Oh God,” she cries as I drag her down onto me, thrusting up hard and deep.
“How many times do you want me to fuck you this morning, Cara?” I grit out, teeth clenched as she pushes back, her muscles tightening around me.
“More. Just more,” she pleads, breathless. “Harder.”
I give it to her - slamming into her, pulling nearly out before driving back in again and again, relentless. She takes every thrust, every rough stroke, breathing in ragged gasps, half scream, half moan.
“Your wet cunt is so hot, Cara,” I murmur, voice low and filthy. “I could die in it.”
She answers with a broken cry, louder, needier.
“I want this,” I continue, words spilling as pleasure coils tight along my spine. “Like this. Everywhere with you.”
Her scream tears free as I hit deep again, deeper, finding that spot that makes her whole body shudder.
I bend over her, pressing her down as I thrust up, mouth at her neck, licking, sucking, biting harder with every snap of my hips.
My hand slips between her thighs, fingers finding that swollen bundle of nerves, stroking firmly.
She shatters, body trembling violently, arms locked on the headboard as the orgasm rips through her. I keep moving, chasing her through it, driving us both into a slick, breathless frenzy until a few final thrusts send me over with her, my body shaking as I collapse against her back.
We sink onto the mattress together, my arm braced beside her head, my weight draped over her as we struggle to catch our breath, the room thick with heat and the sound of our slowing heartbeats.
As she melts against me, something settles inside my chest with a quiet certainty that startles me.
I’m not afraid of how deeply I feel anymore. Not if it’s her.