Chapter 26 Chiara
Chiara
Luka’s mask drops, and the real man looks down at me. Not the charming playboy or the guarded brother of a mafia prince. Something tells me that despite his looks and sexy confidence, there’s a damaged little boy beneath the flirtatious banter.
“You think I’m fucking amazing?” He repeats my words with a faint smirk.
“You know I do, you dork. Now make me come before I explode!”
He doesn’t need telling twice. This time, when he places me on the bathroom counter, I don’t bother looking for cameras. If there are cameras in here, well, I hope Angelo gets his money’s worth from what’s about to happen.
Luka parts my thighs and presses his face into my pussy, not caring that I’m wearing a pair of plain white panties.
“Fuck, you smell good, peaches,” he mumbles.
“Peaches?” I huff out a laugh. So far, his nicknames for me have run the gamut of cutie, sexy girl, and baby. Anyone would think he couldn’t remember my fucking name. But I’m opting not to be that uncharitable. This guy has probably fucked hundreds of women. All of them better looking than me.
Right now, he’s here with me, and I need to come.
“Peaches suits you. You’re sweet, juicy, and make my mouth water.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I giggle before my amusement quickly turns into a moan when he pulls my panties to one side and licks me.
“So sweet,” he groans, reaching down to squeeze his shaft. I try moving, desperate for more stimulation to push me over the edge, but he tears my panties off and pins my thighs down.
“Let me look at you.”
The light isn’t great, but he seems to like what he sees. Thank fuck I landscaped this morning, or it would be a jungle down there. Thank heavens for spa days too, where hirsute is unacceptable.
“Ten out of ten, would recommend?” I joke, not having been this exposed in, like, forever. The last time I got laid, I insisted the lights were off so I could pretend the dude was Brad Pitt in his younger days.
“Fucking perfect.” He dives in and eats me like a starving man let loose on a buffet of gourmet food. It’s too much, and I come embarrassingly fast and with a great deal of noise. All thoughts of Angelo are long gone.
Before my mind can catch up with my body, he pulls my robe aside and drops his jeans. His mouth finds mine, and I can taste myself on his lips and tongue. Our teeth clash as he squeezes my tit. His cock rubs against my still-pulsing pussy, making me moan.
“Luka,” I gasp when we break apart, both of us panting like we just ran a four-minute mile. “I need you inside me!”
“Fuck, peaches. I don’t have any condoms!” He looks stricken.
“I’m clean. I got tested after my last encounter.” Which was months ago.
“I’m clean, peaches, but we can’t take a risk on you getting pregnant.” Fuck. I wasn’t even thinking about a baby. How dumb am I?
Apparently, dumb enough to take a risk.
“Pull out before you come.” I reach between us and press him against my opening. I can see the exact moment when his control breaks. With a mumbled curse, he’s inside me. Stretching me so wide I feel like I might split like a ripe fruit.
I can feel every inch of him. He presses his forehead against mine, breathing as hard as me. Then he looks into my eyes and smiles.
“Hold tight, peaches.” One hand grabs my ass while the other grips my hair and yanks my head so my back arches. He pulls out to the tip and then rams back inside me. I scream loudly, unprepared for such brutality. It’s overwhelming, yet exactly what I need.
The sound of wet flesh slapping together and gasping grunts fills the bathroom.
Teeth graze my nipples before a hot wet mouth sucks one in.
Each time he bottoms out inside me, he rubs my clit, and it’s no time at all before I’m coming.
Harder than before. So hard I can barely remember my own fucking name.
I’m dimly aware of him cursing before he pulls out and sprays thick ropes of release on my belly and tits. I’m a goddamn mess. We both are.
Yet I still want more.
More of him.
All of him.
My robe falls to the floor as he picks me up and deposits me in the shower. A few seconds later, hot water sluices down over us both. We stand together, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Exhaustion catches up with me, and to my surprise, I yawn. After my long nap earlier, I shouldn’t be this tired, but two world-class orgasms have had a soporific effect on me.
Luka squeezes some shower gel into his hands and quickly washes me and then himself. Ten minutes later, I’m tucked into bed, dry and sleepy.
“Stay?” He drops a kiss on my lips and shakes his head.
“I would love to wake up with you, peaches, but I’m being picked up in…” He glances at the clock on my nightstand and grimaces. “Three hours.”
A yawn escapes as I force my eyelids to remain open. “Where are you going?”
“A photo shoot in LA. The usual bullshit.”
“Sounds…lovely.” Jealousy stabs me in the gut with a rusty knife, but I swallow it down. It’s stupid to catch feelings for this man. Not when he’s my husband’s brother. This is just sex. Fun sex, sure, but nothing more than a physical release for both of us.
“Well, have fun, pretty boy. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I wink and roll away from him.
“Sweet dreams, peaches.”
He turns off my lamp, plunging my bedroom into semi-darkness. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come, but thoughts of Luka with a host of gorgeous models make me feel nauseous.
I know I’m being stupid. Beyond stupid.
After all, I wanted him to fuck me.
Ugh. This is exactly why I don’t do casual sex.
My period must be due. It’s the only explanation for my heightened emotional state. Fucking hormones. First they make me want sex, and then they make me feel bad about wanting sex.
I close my eyes and picture Angelo’s face when he realizes I fucked Luka.
He’ll go nuclear.
That restores my equilibrium, and I smile.