Chapter Thirty-Three Ella
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ella
My breathing is still uneven, my skin damp with a fine sheen of sweat as I curl deeper into Tiero’s chest.
We haven’t left this cabin since stepping into it late this morning. Hours have blurred together, and I’ve lost count of how many times he’s made me come.
Tiero worshipped my body, his tongue, lips, and fingers relentless, skilled, devastating. Today feels unreal. Reckless in the best possible way. I’m so glad I gave in to the baser instincts I would have buried at home.
My core still throbs from the last round, tender and oversensitive, and somehow I still want more.
How is that even possible after hours of indulgence?
But it’s true. The pleasure he gives isn’t just mind-blowing; it’s addictive.
My hand moves to the pendant resting against his skin. It’s rough beneath my fingertips, almost like terracotta. Curious, I lift my head to look at it properly. In all the chaos earlier, I hadn’t even noticed it.
“This looks old,” I whisper, my voice still rough from hours of moaning his name.
“It is,” Tiero replies, drawing me closer and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “It belonged to my great-great-grandfather. It’s passed down to each new head of the family. One day it will go to my son.”
The way he says it isn’t hypothetical. It’s inevitable.
I shouldn’t picture it.
But I do.
My finger follows the intricate carving, but I can’t quite decipher the design. Nearly two-thirds of it is missing.
“It looks like a fragment of an old coin,” I murmur, fascinated.
“My great-great-grandfather had it made for our family. This is the De Marco crest. Back then, he couldn’t afford gold or silver.” His voice softens. “It reminds us how far we’ve come, and that nothing should ever be taken for granted.”
I settle deeper against him, unexpectedly moved by the quiet reverence in his tone. Family isn’t just an obligation to him. It’s legacy. History. Future.
What must it be like to be anchored that deeply in tradition?
With a contented sigh, I let my gaze wander around the ship’s master bedroom, or, as Tiero corrected me earlier, the stateroom. The word fits. It feels stately.
The king-size bed we’re lying on dominates the room, dark wood gleaming softly in the filtered light. Everything is warm and understated, elegant without being flashy. A sofa sits near the open doors leading out to a balcony. Beyond it, endless azure water stretches to the horizon.
I understand now why Tiero finds it relaxing.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I let them drift shut, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.
I’m just about to slip under when my stomach releases the loudest growl.
Tiero lifts his head and peers down at me. I meet his gaze.
“Umm… I guess I’m hungry,” I say, laughing.
“Well,” he replies lazily, “I suppose I should feed you something other than my cock then.”
He’s been talking dirty to me all day, and somehow I still blush. It’s ridiculous.
“Yes,” I murmur, “I think you should.”
He untangles himself from me and gets off the bed.
Facing away as he pulls on his shorts, he gives me my first full view of the tattoo covering his back. I’ve caught glimpses before, but never the whole thing. Somehow I’ve always been too distracted by his chest.
How many times can this man render me speechless?
A majestic-looking lion runs towards me with his mane pushed back by the wind, mouth parted to reveal a flash of sharp canines. It’s breathtaking. And a little terrifying.
This is no tame creature.
It’s a predator.
The shading is masterful, Tiero’s tanned skin woven seamlessly into the design. But it’s the eyes that hold me captive. Steel blue. Piercing straight through anyone who dares to look.
It’s stunning.
The lion is fierce. Commanding. Ready to strike.
Just like Tiero.
Even after he steps out of the room, I’m still staring at the space where he stood, the image burned into my mind. I shake myself back to the present and roll onto his pillow, breathing in the scent that’s uniquely his.
Warm. Male. Addictive.
For a moment, I just lie there, floating in the afterglow, suspended in a world that feels entirely his.
Despite my rumbling stomach, sleep tugs at me. I’m on the verge of drifting off when the door opens and Tiero returns, carrying a tray laden with fruit, small sandwiches, olives, and what looks like pastries dusted with powdered sugar.
“Sit up,” he orders softly.
I do, gathering the sheet around myself as I shuffle closer to the edge of the mattress.
He sits down and places the tray carefully beside us, then picks up a strawberry and brings it to my lips.
“Open.”
The command sends a small thrill through me.
I obey, grinning.
The fruit is cool and sweet against my tongue, juice bursting as I bite down. He watches my mouth as I chew, then lifts another strawberry to his own lips.
“You need sugar,” he says, his eyes settling back on mine. “You’ve burned a considerable amount of energy.”
I laugh under my breath. “Is that a professional assessment?”
“Very much so.” He winks.
He feeds me a small triangle of sandwich next, brushing his thumb lightly against my lower lip when a crumb clings there. My pulse skips.
This feels different.
“You know I can feed myself,” I breathe, sounding husky all over again.
He doesn’t break eye contact.
“I like taking care of you.”
And I could too easily get used to it.
He pours water into a glass and hands it to me, watching until I take several long swallows.
“Your tattoo…” I say after a moment. “It’s magnificent. How long did it take?”
“Several days,” he replies, leaning back slightly. “The hardest part was finding the right motif.”
“It fits you perfectly.”
“I’m glad you like it, cuore mio.” His gaze darkens. “I want you looking at me.”
Heat crawls up my neck and pools in my cheeks. After everything we’ve done today, his words shouldn’t affect me anymore. But they do.
When he turns slightly to reach for another piece of fruit, his back is exposed again. I shift behind him on my knees, unable to resist. My hands settle at his waist before sliding upward, fingers spreading over the massive lion inked across his skin.
Up close, the detail is even more mesmerizing. Every strand of the mane, every shadow carved into muscle.
He feeds me another strawberry over his shoulder, not stopping me as my fingertips trace the fierce line of the lion’s jaw.
“It’s incredible,” I murmur, leaning in closer.
I lower my mouth to his back, following the outline with slow kisses. My tongue glides along the curve of his shoulder blade, tasting salt and warmth.
His breathing changes instantly.
That low, steady rhythm from moments ago shatters.
A thrill moves through me at his reaction.
And just like that, the softness between us shifts.
Sleep is officially forgotten.