15. Fourteen
Fourteen
Fabrizio
T he past five days have felt like an eternity, and I can’t remember the last time I have been looking forward to coming home this much.
Home.
A concept that has always felt alien to me, like a mirage I could never quite grasp. It wasn’t a place I felt rooted in; more an abstract idea than a physical refuge. Everything changed when I became a father. Suddenly, I had a reason to look forward to the end of the day, something that made the word ‘home’ mean something. But even with this newfound anchor, I find myself constantly torn between work and family, not spending nearly enough time where I should be.
After Lexi passed away, I made the deliberate choice to distance myself from our shady dealings as much as possible. I handed the reins over to my brothers and focused on expanding our legitimate businesses. My main goal was to protect my children from the darker aspects of our family’s legacy, shielding them from the shadows that haunted my life. But given the current situation, I’ve had to accept a harsh reality: the dream of a normal life is a fantasy I should have let go of long ago.
The days in Mexico have been a chaotic scramble to identify any leads to the audacious person who dared to challenge the Moretti family.
After my meeting with him, I left Santiago Garcia to ponder about his future actions and his loyalties. Making him nervous, letting him know that whatever is going on, I am on it, was deliberate decision. But at least in the following two days, the only things that happened, were the ones he told me—he upped his safety measure just like he promised.
Unfortunately, all other enquiries had come up with nothing to suspect him or any kind of new leads, not yet at least.
But the list of potential enemies is long—I’ve never claimed to be a saint. Ruthlessness is in my blood, a trait my brothers and I were taught from an early age. My hands are stained with the blood of many, and I’ve made more than a few enemies along the way. Yet, I can’t imagine anyone foolish enough to come after my children directly. But whoever it is will be found and dealt with accordingly, no question.
When I finally step into the house, it’s shrouded in darkness and silence. It’s well past the twins’ bedtime, and there’s a good chance Sienna is already asleep too. For a moment, I consider slipping into her room, driven by an overwhelming need to have her. Up until now, our encounters have been about satisfying a need I’ve ignored too long; and about asserting my dominance, showing her what it means when I say she is mine. But I had promised myself that the next time would be different—I would savor every moment, every inch of her delectable body. Yet, I decide against it; it’s late, and at the very least, I owe her the decency of not disturbing her sleep just to satisfy my desires.
Instead, I pour myself a generous glass of whiskey, hoping to drown my growing desire. With a heavy sigh, I sink into the living room couch, swirling the amber liquid and watching the ice cubes dance within the glass. As I tilt my head back and down half of my drink in one swift motion, I sense her presence. A delicate scent of vanilla mixed with an elusive floral note fills the air, reigniting my desire. I turn to see her standing in the doorway, her hair slightly damp, her body wrapped in a robe. My mind immediately conjures images of her naked beneath the plush fabric.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she says softly, “I just heard a noise and—”
“Come here,” I interrupt, the command in my voice cracking the air like a whip, sharper than intended.
Yet she complies and moves toward me, settling onto the couch beside me and gracefully tucking her legs beneath her. Sienna’s eyes remain locked on me as I drain the rest of my drink and set aside the glass. The silence between us speaks volumes.
I turn to face her, cupping her cheek and running my thumb across her lips. A soft moan escapes her throat as she parts her lips, the space between us charged with palpable electricity, almost audible in its intensity. She places her palms firmly on my chest, her fingers splayed wide as her eyes search mine with an intensity that unsettles me; what she seeks remains a mystery to me. Her nails, sharp and insistent, dig into my flesh, sending a shiver down my spine as I lower my head towards hers. Our lips meet in a fervent kiss, my tongue darting out to part her lips, eager to taste her. The sensation is electric as I place my hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me, our bodies melding together in a hungry exploration. The hint of wine on her tongue mingles with the smoky flavor of my whiskey, creating an intoxicating blend that heightens my senses. As I deepen the kiss, a low growl escapes my throat, the primal sound resonating between us as if it is the first time I am experiencing this kind of intensity.
The feel of her soft lips, the taste of her, is nothing short of spectacular; every touch, every taste is all-consuming, filling me with a longing that is almost unbearable. When I finally break the kiss, I pull her into my arms, guiding her to straddle me. Sienna grinds her hips against me; the pressure of my pulsing erection is unmistakable between her thighs, eliciting a shared gasp of pleasure.
With a firm grip, I fist her hair, yanking her head to the side to expose the graceful curve of her long neck. A series of whimpers escape her throat, each more urgent than the last, as I brush my lips up and down the sensitive skin of her neck, discovering her most erogenous zone. She arches her back in response, her body pressing closer as I slip my other hand beneath her robe, cupping and squeezing her naked breast with deliberate intent. The fabric of her robe yields under my grip, tearing apart as I rip it from her body and discard it carelessly to the side.
Drawing in a deep breath, I take a moment to admire the sight before me. Her beauty is beyond words, every curve and contour inviting my touch. “You look… perfect,” I murmur, my voice thick with desire.
“I— Thank you, I guess,” she replies, her voice tinged with nervousness under the intensity of my gaze. Her vulnerability only amplifies the tingling inside me, the growing need to be inside her nearly overwhelming. The moment stretches, charged with anticipation, as we both surrender to the powerful currents of desire that pull us inexorably together. When I squeeze her nipple, rolling it tenderly between my fingers, she throws her head back in ecstasy, grinding her hips once more against my throbbing erection. The intensity of her reaction to every touch of mine ignites a deeper thirst within me, a hunger that demands to be satisfied. Lowering my mouth to her exposed chest, I take her hardened nipple between my lips, sucking and licking with a feverish hunger. The taste of her skin and the sound of her moans drive me wild. Her body is so hot and wet that the moment my fingers brush down the length of her pussy, they become instantly slick with her arousal. Each touch, each movement, elicits a symphony of sounds from her lips—moans, gasps, and the sweet music of her pleasure, her need for me.
Her muscles clamp around my fingers immediately as I thrust them into her tight channel, pumping them in and out rhythmically, feeling her inner walls contract around me. She arches her back, her hands raking through my hair, her movements growing more frantic by the second. Inside the tight confines of my pants, my cock twitches, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.
I let go of her breast, pulling my fingers out of her, and lean back to savor the sight before me. Her face is flushed, her breaths ragged, her lips swollen and parted, yet her eyes shimmer with the same carnal hunger that burns within me. Despite her obvious desire, her movements are tentative as she reaches out to unbutton my shirt. The sensation of her fingertips grazing the bare skin of my chest is electric, sending shivers down my spine. A low growl escapes from deep within me as she bites her lips, her gaze shifting to the bulge in my pants. “Go on,” I urge, my voice dripping with need. “I want you to ride me. Hard.” A deep blush creeps up her cheeks, painting them a vibrant red that is utterly enchanting. I can’t tear my eyes away as she fumbles with my belt buckle, unzipping my pants and pulling them down just enough to free my aching erection. Sighing, I close my eyes as she lets her fingers glide up and down my shaft, barely touching it. The sensation is incredible, every light stroke sending waves of pleasure through my body. It’s all I can do to resist the urge to roll her over and take her with primal intensity. My balls are tight, my cock throbbing with impatient anticipation, yet the sight of her playing with me is too tantalizing to cut short.
I open my eyes just as she wraps her hand around my erection, stroking from the base to the tip. Her cheeks are still tinged with a light blush, but her expression has transformed into one of pure delight. “Stop teasing me,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. Gripping her waist firmly, I pull her down onto me, growling in satisfaction as the tip of my cock pushes past her wet folds.
“Oh, fuck,” I exclaim, the pleasure overwhelming as I feel her envelop me completely. Sienna grips my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as I hold her down, pressing her to accept all of me at once. Every inch of her body tenses against me, a perfect blend of resistance and surrender that drives me wild. “Fuck. You feel so good,” I murmur, my voice rough with desire. She responds with a guttural moan, her head thrown back in sheer ecstasy. Her movements are wild and impetuous, exactly as I commanded her to be. How I want her to be. She rides me with a fervor that leaves me breathless, each motion more intense than the last.
“Oh God, I—” she can barely get the words out before her entire body starts to tremble. I can sense she is on the brink of release, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Suddenly, she crashes her mouth onto mine, her kiss desperate and consuming. Her moans grow louder, the sound a symphony of pleasure that resonates in my ears, fueling my already raging desire. I can feel myself swelling inside her, every sensation heightened by the shared passion between us. It’s the way she climaxes, the way her body responds to our connection, that finally sends me over the edge. I come deep inside her, a powerful release that leaves me trembling.
As the intensity subsides, she leans her head on my shoulder, her breath still coming in short gasps and her body trembling slightly. I close my eyes to savor the moment, gently running my fingers through her hair and down her spine. It’s a brief, comforting pause after our passion.
But reality quickly intrudes. I lift her gently and place her on the couch beside me, the intimacy of the moment giving way to practicality. I get up, shove my cock back into my pants, and grab my glass from the table. I need another drink to steady myself.
With my back to her, I hear the rustling of fabric as she pulls her robe over her naked body. Her voice, though mumbled, carries a clear message. “Fucking asshole,” she mutters. I chuckle at her words, not caring if they were meant for me to hear or not. Because in the end, she’s right. I can’t let her get too comfortable or give her the impression that this is anything more than what it is. Yet, even as I think it, I’m no longer sure what it actually is. The lines blur more and more with every moment spent with her. The emotions she stirs in me are unreasonable, ridiculous, and dangerous. They threaten to unravel the carefully constructed barriers I’ve built around myself. And as I take another sip of my drink, I wonder how much longer I can keep them up.