Chapter 8 #4
"I’m in!" Lorenzo cuts in. "I live for that stuff. Give me five minutes, I’ll come with you."
He runs inside like a dog off leash. Five minutes later, he explodes out of the hotel lobby.
"LET’S GO GET WASTED, ALPACA!" he shouts, already halfway down the steps, wearing an offensively bright shirt open halfway down his chest and sunglasses, at night.
He throws his arms in the air.
"Spain, baby! I’m gonna get drunk, dance like a fucking whore and regret absolutely NOTHING!"
She cheers.
"Don’t wait up, guys! Unless it’s with tequila. And if I don’t come back by sunrise, assume I’m either dead or in love!"
Then he vanishes down the street.
Now there’s just silence.
Me and Gio.
47) Gone For Him
Gio
The second the door shuts behind us, I grab him by the throat and slam him back against it. His eyes go wide for half a second.
Then I kiss him. I devour him. I feel like I’m crossing some invisible line between sane and absolutely fucking feral.
My dick’s throbbing.
If it had a voice, it’d be on its knees right now, worshipping the ground he walks on. I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.
I swear to God, how the fuck did I miss this?
How the hell did I let this man walk around all these years with that mouth, that fuck-me face, just out here?
In public? That’s criminal.
I should’ve had him cuffed to me the second I met him.
Should’ve called the cops on myself for letting him out of my sight. He’s addictive. That’s the word.
Rava Weston is addictive.
He’s a drug and I’m overdosing with a goddamn smile on my face. I’m his victim. I pull back just an inch, my lips brushing his as I speak.
"I’ve been losing my fucking mind waiting for this."
His eyes meet mine. His voice is low, rough. "Poor Allegra."
I grin. And I kiss his neck again, softer.
Fuck Allegra. And every other Allegra walking the earth.
Let them all be happy, sure. But none of them are him.
He’s got it. That thing. He’s what I want.
"I’m gonna take a shower," I murmur. "Guests are welcome."
I undo my belt, slowly. I toss my pants on the chair next to me without even looking. He does, though.
His eyes come back and drop straight down. I grab his chin, tilt his face back up.
"Up here, angel," I tell him. "My eyes are up here."
He swallows hard.
I let go of his chin and head to the bathroom. No idea if he’ll follow.
Honestly? Maybe he’s too shy. Maybe I pushed it.
I’m not expecting anything. I made the move. I opened the door. It’s up to him now. Yes or no. He’s got the choice.
God, I hope he comes. Please come.
Fuck playing it cool, I need him. I crank the water hotter, way hotter than normal, letting it burn across my shoulders. Everything is already blurry from the steam.
I rub my hands over my face, drag the heat out of my eyes, and when I open them, he’s there. Pressed against the glass door. Wearing nothing but his underwear.
I stare.
From his messy hair all the way down to his legs.
I’m genuinely trying to process that he’s real. About to step into the shower with me. He hooks his thumbs under the band of his underwear and slides them down.
Lets them fall to the floor.
Fuck me sideways.
I’m about to faint and crack my skull open from thirst. He stands right in front of me. The water is sliding down his hair, over his face, his chest.
My eyes? Yeah. They’re glued down there.
I’m trying, I swear. I swear I’m trying to look away, but that dick’s got its own gravitational pull.
I’ve become a man hypnotized by a dick.
He snaps his fingers right in my face.
"Up here, Giovanni," he smiles. "My eyes are up here."
Caught red-eyed and dick-dazed. I smile. But I hold the eye contact. I let the water soak through my hair, pour down my back, but my gaze stays locked on his.
I swear, our bodies might not be doing anything right now, but our eyes?
They’re already fucking.
I’ve never seen anyone look at me like that. So hungry.
"Did you actually give her your number?" he says, finally.
I smirk. My voice comes out rough. "Jealous?"
He doesn’t answer. His silence is loud. I laugh, low and close to his throat. "Gave her a fake number. That’s hot though, you know. That look you had, just because she looked at me."
He scowls. "She wasn’t just looking. How do you do it? How do you have everyone on their knees?"
That makes me stop.
I look him dead in the eyes.
Then I slide my hands to his waist.
And slowly, without a word, I sink to my knees in front of him. Yeah, I got everyone on their knees. Always have. Whole damn world at my feet.
But me? Who the fuck’s got me on my knees?
"You think they get this version of me?" I whisper. I look up at him. His chest looks so much bigger from down here. And his dick? Right in front of me. Right there. Close enough to haunt me, too far to have.
Thick, flushed and fucking beautiful.
We’re locked in eye contact and it’s killing me.
I can’t touch him. Can’t do anything unless he says yes. And that’s driving me fucking insane. I glance up again.
"Can I?"
He smiles. He brushes the wet hair out of my face.
"Say please."
"Please," I whisper. "Please, Rava."
He leans in slightly. "Then please do."
And that’s all I need. I start with his thighs. I kiss them slow, one side, then the other. My fingers sink into the meat of them. I trail my mouth up, getting closer. Closer.
My tongue teases around the base, not touching his dick yet. "Do you want me to stop?" I murmur.
Nothing. "I need to hear you, Rava," my voice rasps.
"You want me to stop?"
His voice is hoarse. "Gio, please don’t stop."
I don’t waste a fucking second. I take him in.
Weston. Rava fucking Weston. The same guy I swore I hated, the same guy I swore I’d never touch. Now I’ve got him deep in my throat, testing how far I can go before my eyes sting.
I want more. I want everything. I want to worship him. His head tips back, and both his hands grip my hair like he’s hanging on for dear life.
He moves with me, dragging me down like he needs it too. I glance up. Shit. He’s looking right at me.
And I’ve never wanted to be better at anything in my life. I want to thank his whole body with my mouth. I want to make him cum so hard he forgets his own name.
He’s mine.
No one gets this.
No one sees him like this.
No one will ever make him sound like this.
And if they tried, I’d kill them.
I suck him deeper. I make it wetter on purpose. Sloppier. The more noise he makes, the filthier I get. My hands explore him.
His hips, his thighs, his lower back, his ass. I grab all of it. I squeeze.
He tugs harder on my hair. My scalp burns, and I love it. I love it so much. Because I’m not doing this just for his pleasure. This is my pleasure too.
This is my thing. My fix. My high.
His pleasure is my possession. I hum around him, and his knees almost give out. The bathroom is a fucking steam room. Everything is wet. The mirror’s fogged up, the air is thick with heat.
And I’m gone. Gone for him.
Gone like he’s some god and I’m just the fool who touched divinity and can’t go back.
I take him deeper. I let him hit the back of my throat, again and again, and I don’t pull away. I stay there.
I want to choke on him. I want to ruin myself for him. He moans, broken, like he can’t hold it in anymore.
I pull back a little. "You like that, angel?"
He nods, pupils blown wide. His hand is still in my hair, but gentler now. Like he doesn’t know whether to hold me there or pull me back and kiss me.
But I’m not done.
I wrap my arms around his waist and go again. His stomach is twitching every time I slide my mouth back down his dick. He’s saying my name again and again.
Gio. Gio. Fuck, Gio.
God, I want to live inside that fucking sound. His grip in my hair tightens, this time not gentle.
I know that rhythm. He’s about to cum.
I look up at him, and I go harder. I flatten my tongue and hollow my cheeks.
And suck. I’m trying to rip the orgasm out of him with my mouth. My hands are gripping his ass.
He throws his head back a little when I do it harder. "You really like my ass," he mutters, flushed.
I glance up at him, grinning. "Yeah," I say. "Unhealthily."
He shoves my wet hair out of my face. "Then eat it."
…
I swear to God this is the first time in my life I’ve ever wanted to obey anyone.
Not follow. Obey.
I’ve never wanted to do exactly what I’m told so badly. Never wanted to be on my knees like some filthy, well-trained dog just waiting for permission to be useful.
I grab his waist and twist him to face the wall. I can’t fucking believe this is happening. That he’s letting me. That he wants this.
This little bastard used to act all straight, all shy, all buttoned-up, and now?
Now he’s standing in front of me, wet, offering me his ass.
You’ve gotta be fucking stupid to be given a chance like this and say no.
Seriously. Locked-up level dumbass.
Because this ass? This ass could convert a nation.
I spread my hands out wide, then I grab him.
Both cheeks. I squeeze them hard. Then I push them apart, rotating my thumbs in slow circles.
I’m not touching him yet. I’m just admiring.
I’m the fucking chosen one. Because let’s be real. Nobody gets to see him and touch him like this.
Nobody but me. Literally.
And now that I’ve had a taste?
I’m never going back to starving.
Sometimes I feel like this is too good for me. I’m not built for this shit. What the fuck is that ass? That ungodly, thick, juicy, round perfect ass.
Is this punishment for everything bad I’ve ever done?
Because if it is, I deserve it. I’d do it all again. How does he have that back there and walk around like it’s normal?
I give his ass a light smack, to feel how fucking juicy it is.
It jiggles. It actually jiggles. This is serious. This is historical. That’s not a regular ass.
I bite my tongue.
I wanna praise it. I wanna apologize to it for not worshipping it sooner. What if I die before I touch it again? What if he never lets me bury my face in it the way I’m meant to?
I should’ve made a will.
If I perish, tell Rava’s ass I loved it.