CHAPTER 60 – ANTONIO
The drive to his house is quiet but full of anticipation. I keep glancing at Caspian—at the beautiful, devastating reality of him—and wondering how someone like him can exist.
He didn’t give up. He fought for me. Believed me.
His presence does something to me.
He makes me want to surrender to the safety he provides.
There’s something intoxicating about that. About being held firmly but not restrained.
With Caspian, I finally understand why I’ve never wanted anyone else—why wanting anyone else would be impossible.
What I feel for him settles low in my body, like anchors dropping steadily into place. Not heavy, not dragging me under—just enough to keep me grounded.
Close to him. Where I’m safest.
I can’t take another second not touching him.
“Pull over,” I say, my voice frantic. “Caspian, please.”
He glances at me, stopping the engine. “We’re already here.”
Still, I unbuckle my seatbelt in a frenzy and climb over the console to his lap, clinging to him with all that I have.
I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent, then I grab his face and kiss him until the world turns into a blur of heat and salt from my tears.
“Hey, it’s alright,” he murmurs, his hands steadying my trembling frame. “Everything’s alright, baby.”
“I love you,” I cry, the words feeling too small for this moment.
“I love you too.”
“Don’t let me go. Ever.”
“I won’t. Not a chance.”
Somehow he manages to open the door and get us both out while I’m clinging to him like a koala.
I keep kissing him everywhere I can reach, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, whispering please over and over—not even knowing what I’m asking for, only that I need the answer to be Caspian.
Inside, he carries me upstairs.
He sets me down on the bed, and already I’m protesting the inch of space between us.
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice a low, grounding hum. “I’m right here.”
His eyes are dark and intense, but his movements are unhurried.
The more frenzied I get, the calmer he becomes.
When he starts undressing me, it’s like he’s unwrapping a long-awaited gift.
“Hurry up,” I demand, tugging at his polo shirt. His skin is warm, pure muscle and solid strength.
I fumble with the waistband of his jeans impatiently.
He stills my hands and tells me to take a deep breath.
I inhale and exhale exaggeratedly.
“Your lungs are very opinionated today.”
“Only because you’re slow on purpose.”
“We’ve talked about this, Antonio. You need patience.”
“Why? You seem to have enough for both of us. Your patience covers half
the global population.”
His lips twitch, which is not the result I was aiming for.
“There’s no rush.”
“I am the rush!”
“Antonio. You won’t be ready in a few seconds. It takes time.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll tell you when you’re ready.” He waits for me to meet his eyes.
“I’m a sex wizard.”
“Even so. We won’t continue until you agree.”
I glare at him.
He waits.
Finally, I sigh. “You will tell me when I’m ready,” I mutter.
“Good boy.”
His every kiss melts me. My fingers dig into his sides. He kisses down my neck, along my collarbone, stopping at my nipples. He teases them with his tongue, taking his time, before he continues lower, kissing and licking and sucking.
He reaches for the lube, and soon his fingers are working me open—slowly.
So goddamn slowly. I’m writhing, whining, demanding more.
“Please.”
“You’re not ready, baby.”
“Are you sure? Because I think I am.”
“Well I know you’re not.”
I push against him, desperate for more.
The pressure of his fingers, the wetness of his mouth, the needy, feral sounds I make—all of it together makes the pleasure of anticipation almost unbearable.
“Please,” I whisper again. I want so badly to be ready for him. “I need you. I need to be yours.”
“You are mine,” he says, his voice deliciously low.
I bite my lip, almost delirious with want.
“My good boy.”
“Yes.”
When he finally, mercifully, decides I’m ready, I’m trembling so hard I feel like I might break.
He pushes inside carefully, giving me time to adjust. I feel both open and full in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“I want you to know that this is the first time this means something to me,” he says quietly.
My breath hitches. I nod.
“This means everything,” he adds reverently.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Cuore mio.”
He wipes a tear off my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
“I trust you, with all of this. With my—with my everything.”
His breath hitches. “Thank you,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you. Worthy of your trust.”
We stare at each other, ridiculously sappy and romantic.
My body is learning how to share this pleasure with him until it isn’t his or mine, but ours.
I gasp as a wave of bliss hits me.
“Caspian,” I moan. “Don’t stop. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“It’s so good,” I sob, my toes curling. The pressure builds and builds, and I can’t—I can’t let go.
“Please,” I moan.
“Antonio.”
“No,” I cry out.
“Antonio,” he says firmer.
I’m lost in the intensity of his thrusts, in the long, delicious strokes of his hand. “You can let go. You’re safe.”
“Safe with you.”
“Always.”
“I’m so close. I’m going to—oh please.”
“You come so beautifully. Show me.”
“Now?” I cry. I’m almost there.
“Now, baby,” he says in the voice that always makes my body yield to him. “Come for me now.”
I spill all over my own stomach, sobbing from the pleasure.
Caspian holds me through it, and even at the height of his own release, his focus never leaves me. He makes sure I’m alright. He makes sure I’m safe. I know he will always do that for me.
Hold me steady.
Keep me safe.
He’s my anchor.