Chapter 17
Eleanor
Leonardo plucks me off the fountain and shoves me against a tree, and then his mouth is on mine, fierce and demanding.
It happens so fast I can’t breathe. So fast I can’t think.
His hands tangle in my hair, rough and urgent, and my entire body feels like a live wire.
I’ve never been kissed like this. He tastes like smoke and heat, and it me dizzy, and for the first time, I want to lose control.
He presses against me, wild and reckless. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer, like he wants to be under my skin. I gasp against his lips, and he groans. My entire body screams for more of him. It’s raw and explosive and out of control.
“I’m not letting you get away, princess,” he says, biting my lip. I dig my nails into his arms, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And I don’t want him to.
“Do you want more?” he breathes, voice rough in my ear.
“No,” I lie, the word a desperate whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes wild and intense. “Bullshit.”
I am breaking apart at the seams, coming undone with every touch. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I don’t care. I yank him closer, hungrier for him than I’ve ever been for anything.
He smiles, and as his mouth finds mine again, my entire body shudders.
“Admit it, Eleanor,” he says, and his lips burn a trail down my neck. His hands are everywhere, possessive and hot, sending me spiraling. I can barely hold myself up. I am falling, free and terrifying and so, so good.
He kisses me hard. He laughs against my skin. It’s not fair, the way he makes me want him. The way I can’t fight it.
“You’re a bastard,” I gasp, and my voice is shaking. I am shaking.
“Tell me what you want.” He runs his fingers down my body, and my head spins.
“Damn you,” I breathe, clenching my teeth.
He pulls me flush against him, and I feel how hard he is. How much he wants me. I can’t deny it anymore.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he repeats.
“You,” I choke out, and I am a live wire, finally letting myself feel.
“That’s what I thought.” He is relentless, and it feels like the best kind of defeat. Like the world is spinning out of control, and I don’t care.
I crash my mouth into his, desperate and hungry, and he pins me to the tree, his hands in my hair. It feels so right.
“You want more,” he says, and his lips never leave mine.
“Yes,” I sob, breathless and wild, my control gone. “I want more. Don’t stop.”
It feels good to tell the truth. It feels like flying.
He kisses me again, running his fingers up my thighs and slipping under my dress. I arch into him, drugged by his touch. He knows I’m not lying anymore. I don’t have it in me to lie.
“More,” I beg, frantic. I don’t care if I have to crawl on my knees to get it. I just want him.
He puts his fingers in my panties, and I melt.
“You’re so wet for me, baby.” His voice is rough and breathless, like he’s barely holding on.
“Please,” I moan, and I am not the woman I thought I was. I am someone else entirely.
He slides a finger inside me, and I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“That’s it, Eleanor,” he breathes. “You feel so good.”
I shatter. I don’t want the pieces back.
He keeps his mouth on mine, swallowing my cries. I am free-falling, and it feels so right. I don’t want it to end.
His fingers curl deeper and slide in and out of me.
Each stroke sends a jolt through my body.
His thumb brushes over my clit, a rough, teasing caress that nearly makes me scream.
I don't know how much more I can take. His hand is relentless, dragging me to the edge.
I'm unraveling around him, faster and faster. His kiss is brutal and soft. His touch, rough and perfect. I want to break apart for him. I will break apart for him. I’m going to fall apart with just his kiss and fingers alone.
It hits me like an explosion. This moment has been arriving for days, weeks, months, my whole lifetime.
Crawling closer, especially since he punished me for leaving to check on Juliet, taking me to the edge of bliss and not letting me fall.
And it’s all worth it. Every moment of sexual frustration explodes inside me, bursting free and making me scream.
When I come back to myself, my legs are jelly and my heart is racing.
We collapse against the tree, breathless and raw, his chest rising and falling against mine.
His heart thuds against me, loud and untamed.
It’s like we’ve been hit by a storm, and we are left tangled in the aftermath, skin to skin and blazing.
My head is on his shoulder, and he holds me there, letting the world fall back into place.
Letting me catch my breath, even though it still comes ragged and fast. He smells like sweat and heat, and I want to drown in it, drown in him.
I can feel him, hard against my stomach, a constant reminder of how much he wants me.
I love it. I crave it. I want to burn for him until there is nothing left.
The thought sends a wild thrill through me, and my body screams for more.
I feel greedy and wicked, ready to let him swallow me whole.
My fingers begin to move, almost by themselves, tracing the wild tattoos inked across his arms. They twist and pulse over every muscle, like they’re alive.
Like they can barely be contained. I want to feel them under my hands, against my skin.
His abs are impossibly hard, and I follow the lines of them, teasing my way across his stomach, feeling him shiver under my touch.
I want to drive him crazy. I want to make him lose control like I am.
I want him to know I’m not done with him, not even close.
I jump into his arms, legs around his waist, my skirt bunched around my hips. I rock against him just once, slow and deliberate, until he groans. I am shameless, and I love it.
“Still want more?” he says, grinning.
I nod, too breathless for words.
He unzips his pants, pulling out his cock, and I whimper.
“Fuck,” he says, looking at me like he’s starving. He pushes me back against the tree, rough and wild, and thrusts into me. I am out of my mind. I love it. “Eleanor,” he groans, biting my neck.
I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I want all of him. I want him to ruin me.
We are frantic and out of control, desperate and raw. I lose myself in him. He is inside me, big and demanding, and I don’t care about anything else.
“God,” he breathes, slamming into me. “You’re so fucking wet.”
I dig my nails into his shoulders and meet his thrusts, wanting him to break me. Wanting him to see every piece.
I’ve never wanted anything like this.
Each thrust is brutal and wild, taking over my body.
His hips slam into me, his cock big and relentless in my pussy.
I cry out and cling to him like he's my lifeline, the only thing holding me together.
Everything in me screams for him. His hand grips my ass, holding me up, supporting my weight, driving me higher.
His other hand is all over my body, greedy and possessive.
He grabs my tits, squeezing until I gasp, and I push myself harder against him, wanting to feel every inch.
He is strong and dangerous and safe all at once.
I am out of my mind, wanting nothing but Leonardo Rosetti. I wrap myself around him, desperate and shameless, rocking against each thrust like a woman possessed. His fingers dig into my skin, and I love how rough he is with me. I love knowing he can't hold back. He needs me.
I hold onto him, losing myself in how fierce he is, how sexy he is, how much I can't resist him. He's inside me, and it feels too good. Like I’m meant to be here, exactly like this, wrapped around him and out of control.
It’s like flying. Like burning. I cling to him with everything I have. I am greedy as hell, shameless as hell, wanting him so bad it hurts. I rock against him, taking him deeper. He is all I feel, all I want.
We are heat and sweat and the taste of skin. We are ragged breaths and frantic hands, and my world spins until I can’t breathe.
I shudder around him, out of control and explosive, and I know he feels it. He curses, and I am coming, screaming his name and losing my mind. I cry out, free and wild and alive.
He thrusts into me, holding my hips so tight it hurts. He lets out a ragged moan, biting down on my neck, and he comes inside me.
We are raw and out of breath and tangled up, and it is perfect.
He leans his head against mine, his hair damp with sweat. I touch his cheek, and my fingers are shaking.
“You’re not running this time,” he says, breathless and sure.
“I’m not running,” I agree. My voice is shaky and full of the truth.
He kisses me, and I taste smoke and heat. Exactly what I need.