Chapter 19 Domenico
Domenico
Everything feels different today. The light through the window, the feel of the sheets, the slow, soft pull of Besiana's breath against my neck.
For the first time in years, I don't want to move.
Even the ache in my shoulder is less cruel.
Her leg is thrown across me, heavy and warm.
Her arm too. I don't know where she ends and I begin, and I don't care.
I can still smell her on my skin. I can still taste her on my tongue.
I can still hear the way she said my name last night, cracking open my world.
The sheets rustle as she moves. She sighs softly, her lips barely brushing my neck.
I hold my breath so I don’t wake her, so I can hold onto this—the way she feels beside me, the way she makes me feel—before the day crashes in with all its expectations and demands.
Last night, I said it out loud. Three words that taste foreign in my mouth, that I’ve never said before.
“I love you.” Simple, exposed. For once, I wasn’t strategic.
For once, I was the fool. It felt like handing her a loaded gun and hoping she wouldn’t shoot.
But I meant it. I still do. The look in her eyes when she realized I wasn’t playing, wasn’t lying.
She didn't say it back, but I didn't expect her to. I told her because it was true. Because it is true.
I close my eyes, willing myself back to sleep. I don’t want this feeling to slip away. The hotel penthouse is quiet, just the low hum of the city outside. Her breathing steadies me. I haven’t slept this well in years, but I woke up wanting more from her. I always do.
Her hair is a tangle across my chest, soft and dark.
She lets me touch it now. She lets me touch her everywhere.
I shift beneath her, feel her leg tighten around me like she doesn’t want me to leave.
Or maybe that’s just what I want it to mean.
I think about last night, how she looked at me like no one else was watching.
How she opened up for me, wide and beautiful and mine.
Besiana sighs, a low, sleepy sound that makes me hard all over again.
The entire room smells like her, and I breathe it in, wondering if I'm still dreaming. She stirs, shifts against me, but doesn’t wake.
She never lets her guard down like this.
Her makeup is smudged, a shadow under her eyes, and she’s never looked more perfect.
I roll onto my side, pulling her closer.
She fits into the crook of my arm. Even in her sleep, she’s wary.
She doesn’t say much about him, but I know her father keeps her on a tight leash.
I know what men like him do. She said I was like him once.
Cold. Unfeeling. As though I couldn’t love her if I wanted to.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when I told her I loved her.
She tried to cover it up, to be careful and sharp and Besiana, but I saw her.
I see her now, as she really is. The sheet pulls tight across her breasts and belly, and I want to see all of her again.
I want to wake her up and watch the surprise on her face.
I follow the trail of her hair with my fingers, letting it slip through my hands.
My cock is so hard, it almost hurts. I should let her sleep, but I don’t have that kind of patience.
Not when she’s right here, soft and warm and all I’ve ever wanted.
The rest of the world is waiting for us to destroy each other. I’m ready for it, but not yet.
Not now.
I drag the sheets away, slowly, and she shivers at the loss of them.
It bares her breasts, her belly, her legs.
She’s too perfect, too tempting. She still doesn’t wake.
I don’t know if I want her to, if I want her like this, vulnerable and yielding.
She murmurs something I don’t quite catch, but I don’t need to.
The sound is enough. Her panties are a lacy black tangle on the floor, and I love the thought of them still there, a perfect reminder of last night.
I slip my fingers down her thigh, and she squirms. So damn perfect. I reach between her legs, already slick and ready for me. Her skin is hot, her pulse frantic against my palm. She shudders, pushes into me like she can’t help herself, and my control snaps.
I roll her onto her back, my breath rough in my throat.
The weight of her body underneath mine makes me feel like a different man.
Like someone who’s capable of more than control and calculation.
I watch her face as she starts to wake, as she turns that soft look on me, and it makes me wild.
Her breathing quickens, and her hands come up, slipping into my hair and pulling me down.
I let them stay there.
“Were you dreaming about me, baby?” I whisper against her ear, pressing the length of my body to hers.
Her lips part, the start of my name escaping, and it’s the only answer I need.
I thrust into her, deep and sure, burying myself with one hard stroke.
She cries out, breathless, needy, so goddamn beautiful.
“Dom—”
My name, a prayer, a promise. She arches into me, greedy and gasping, pulling me even closer. Her thighs grip my sides, and she’s got a dozen complaints on the tip of her tongue. I don’t let her get them out.
“You can’t let me sleep?” she says, voice breaking, teasing. I don’t let her do that either.
Her nails dig into my back, and I swallow the rest of her words. I take her hard and fast, pressing her wrists above her head and holding them there, relentless and sure. She wants this as much as I do, and it’s never been like this before. Never.
Her legs lock around my waist, and I thrust deeper, harder. She bites her lip, fighting against the way she feels. It’s what I love about her. It’s what drives me mad.
“You don’t have to hold back,” I tell her, a low growl in my throat. “Not with me.”
She moans, tossing her head, lips red and desperate and driving me insane. I don’t let up, watching her come undone, watching the surprise on her face as I move faster. Her hips come up to meet me, and I have to tell her again, have to say the words that unmake us both.
“I love you.”
I don’t know if she hears me, don’t know if she’s capable of anything but this, the push and pull and drive of our bodies together.
I lose myself to it, to her, to us, the rest of the world falling away.
She gasps, shudders, then says it back in a rush of breath, a rush of heat, a rush of everything.
“I—” Her voice cracks open, then her entire body, and she screams my name.
It’s all I want. It’s more than I expected.
I come with a shudder and a groan, collapsing into her arms. She holds me there like she never plans to let go.
She laughs a little, breathless and sated beneath me.
Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded, and she's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
Her fingers comb through my hair, the nails grazing my scalp in a way that makes me want to start all over again. I shift slightly, careful not to crush her, and she sighs against my chest when I roll off her.
“You...” she starts, but her voice trails off as she yawns and nuzzles into me.
I grin at the ceiling, happier than I have any right to be. “What about me?”
Her response is a long silence followed by another yawn. “You’re making it very hard for me to wake up,” she mumbles against my skin.
“Good. Stay.”
She stretches lazily, limbs warm against mine. “We can’t just lie here all day.”
I push myself up on an elbow to look at her better, and she blushes under my gaze. Her dark hair is spread out over the white pillowcase like an inky halo and her pale green eyes hold a softness I've rarely seen before now.
Slowly, I trace patterns on her bare skin with my fingertips. She sighs contentedly, closing her eyes.
“Why not?” I ask.
Besiana opens her eyes to meet mine. "Don't you have work?"
"Work can wait," I say without hesitation. “First, you need breakfast.”
She smiles then, soft and genuine, reaching up to gently caress my cheek. I press my lips to her forehead and then reach across and pick up the phone to order.
A lazy smile tugs at her lips as she watches me speak softly into the receiver.
The knock on our door comes sooner than expected, a hotel waiter carrying a silver tray laden with a stack of pancakes, syrup dripping off the sides, and a large bowl of vanilla ice cream.
When the waiter leaves, she cocks an eyebrow at me. "Ice cream? For breakfast?"
"Anything for you," I tell her. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
I wait patiently while she nibbles on her pancakes, sipping on my coffee until I judge she has eaten enough for now, then I scoop out a huge spoonful of ice cream and hold it to her nipple, using my other hand to make sure she doesn’t move away.
“What the—?”
“Shh, caro,” I murmur, intent on watching her perfect nipple harden into the cold of the ice cream.
“You’re making a mess,” she protests.
“I’ll clean it up,” I growl, leaning forward to lick the ice cream off her breast.
She giggles.
Next, I drizzle maple syrup onto her breasts, watching it drip off them and land on her legs, on the sheets, down her belly.
“You’re making even more of a mess now,” she jokes, but her voice is turning husky, losing that giggly edge.
“Good thing I’m hungry,” I reply, my voice thick with desire. My tongue follows the trail of syrup, swirling around her nipple before I suck it into my mouth. She gasps, arching into me, her hands finding their way into my hair.
Her laughter becomes a gasp and then a moan as I work my way down her body, tasting every inch of her.
Her body is my feast, my playground, and I lose myself in the taste of her.
Suddenly, the bed is too small for my growing need to possess her again. My lips move lower, tracing the ridges of her stomach, dipping into her navel. She writhes beneath me, and it's music to my ears.
“I want you,” I murmur against her skin, my hands slipping under her thighs to spread her legs open. “Now.”
My lips close around the sensitive bud of flesh between her legs, and she gasps again.
Her fingers tighten in my hair as I lick and suck, driving her towards the edge with a ruthless determination.
The sweet taste of syrup on her skin mixes with her unique flavor, and I’m addicted.
She’s soft sighs and sharp gasps, nails digging into my shoulders as she arches off the bed.
Her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer, desperate for more.
She trembles and cries out as she comes. The world outside this penthouse still exists, I’m sure, but right now I don’t fucking care.