Chapter 34
Domenico
I remain on the sofa long after the city has settled into silence, my gaze fixed on the woman sleeping against me.
Somehow, the sight still feels unreal. The same woman who never lets anyone close enough to see her break is curled against my chest beneath a blanket, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, her fingers still gripping my shirt even in sleep as though letting go isn't an option.
The strain of the evening is written across her face. Her eyelashes are still damp from tears, and every so often I feel the faintest tremor run through her body before it disappears beneath the steady rhythm of her breathing.
I had convinced myself staying away from her was the right decision. Distance was supposed to make everything easier. Then the footage surfaced.
I heard Sebastian's voice through the phone and instinct took over before thought had the chance to catch up.
The ride across the city is little more than fragments in my memory now.
Flashing traffic lights, the roar of my motorcycle, and one relentless thought repeating itself over and over. Get to her.
By the time I brought her here, she had nothing left to hold herself together with.
She hadn't cried the way people usually cry.
It was quieter than that. More devastating.
Every ounce of composure she'd carried for years had finally given way, and all I could do was hold her until exhaustion claimed what grief refused to release.
When she finally stirs, her eyes remain unfocused for a moment before finding mine. "How long was I asleep?"
"A few hours."
She exhales slowly and lets her head fall back against my chest. "I still feel exhausted."
"I know."
Before I can say anything else, Matteo quietly enters the room carrying dinner. He sets the plates down without a word, offering me a brief nod before disappearing as discreetly as he arrived.
The smell of food barely earns a glance from her. "I'm not hungry."
"I didn't ask."
She looks up at me with tired annoyance. "Nico..."
"You haven't eaten since this afternoon."
"I'm not going to starve."
I place the plate in front of her anyway. "Eat."
For a few seconds, I think she's going to argue. Instead, she picks up her fork with obvious reluctance, taking a small bite more to satisfy me than herself. We eat in silence.
Eventually, she sets the fork back down.
"I've never been that humiliated before." Her voice is barely above a whisper.
"I've stood in front of shareholders worth billions without feeling nervous. I've negotiated with criminals. I've buried my father. None of it felt like tonight."
"When those photographs appeared..." She swallows. "It felt like hundreds of people stopped seeing me as a person. I became entertainment."
I tighten my arm around her. "They weren't looking at you."
She gives me a tired look. "They were."
"They were looking at a scandal. There's a difference."
"It doesn't feel different."
"No." I admit quietly. "It never does."
She leans further into me, her forehead resting beneath my chin.
"Sebastian made me feel filthy."
A familiar anger settles somewhere deep inside my chest.
I tilt her face toward mine. "Listen to me. What he called you says everything about him and nothing about you."
She doesn't answer.
"I mean it." My thumb brushes away the faint trace of a tear she hadn't realized escaped.
"He wanted you to feel small because that's the only way he could make himself feel whole again ."
She studies my face as though searching for any sign that I'm simply telling her what she wants to hear.
"I don't know how to carry all of this anymore." She admits, her voice barely audible.
"You don't have to." I say quietly.
Her gaze drops to her lap. "The empire..."
"It'll still be there tomorrow."
"My engagement..."
"It ended the moment he stopped respecting you."
Her eyes lift to meet mine, filled with uncertainty. "And us?"
The question hangs quietly between us.
I don't answer immediately. Instead, I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"We'll figure us out tomorrow too."
For the first time since I'd found her, the tension in her shoulders eases.
She closes the distance herself, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against my lips. There is nothing hurried about it, nothing reckless. It isn't driven by desire as much as relief. Two people finding solid ground after everything else has collapsed beneath them.
When we finally part, I rest my forehead against hers and hold her a little closer.
"You’re mine to protect tonight." I growl softly against her lips. "Even from your own thoughts."
Her eyes close again, and this time, when she settles against me, it isn't because she's falling apart. It's because, for the first time all day, she finally feels safe.
I rise from the sofa and offer her my hand. When she slips her fingers into mine, I help her to her feet and lead her upstairs in silence. Neither of us says a word as we step into my bedroom and close the door behind us, leaving the rest of the world outside.
I lead her to the bed, never letting go of her hand, and we undress each other slowly, savoring every touch. I peel away her clothes like unwrapping something precious and dangerous. When she's finally lying beneath me against the soft sheets, I take my time worshipping her.
I kiss down Zora’s body slow and reverent, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
My lips brush her collarbone, then move lower to the soft valley between her full breasts.
I take my time there, licking and sucking on her nipples until they’re hard little peaks.
Her skin tastes warm and a little salty.
I keep going, kissing down her stomach, feeling the way her muscles jump under my mouth.
By the time I settle between her thighs, she’s breathing fast. I spread her legs wide and hook them over my shoulders. Her pussy is right in front of my face, pink, wet, and glistening. I can smell how turned on she is. That sweet, musky scent that makes my cock throb.
"Let me taste you." I growl.
I drag my tongue slowly up her slick folds, savoring every inch. She’s so fucking wet already as I lick her with long, lazy strokes, circling her clit before sucking it gently into my mouth.
Zora moans loud, her hips twitching. I slide two thick fingers into her tight pussy and start pumping them slow while my tongue works her clit harder.
"Fuck, Nico…" She whimpers, her hands fisting tighter in my hair.
I add a third finger, stretching her open.
The wet, filthy sounds of my fingers pumping into her soaked pussy echo through the room.
I suck harder on her swollen clit, flicking it rapidly with the flat of my tongue.
Her thighs begin to tremble around my head, but I don’t let up.
I curl my fingers and stroke that sensitive spot inside her again and again until her back arches sharply off the bed.
"Oh god. Nico!" She cries out, voice breaking.
I keep my fingers buried deep, stroking slower now, more deliberately, while my tongue draws soft, relentless circles over her throbbing clit. She’s dripping everywhere, slick, messy, coating my hand and the sheets beneath her.
"You taste so fucking good." I murmur against her pussy, the words vibrating into her.
Her whole body suddenly tenses. Her breath catches in a sharp, desperate gasp, like she’s surprised by the force of what’s about to hit her. Then it crashes over her. Her orgasm rips through her hard.
She grabs my hair with both hands, grinding her pussy desperately against my face as her thighs clamp around my head. Her cries turn into broken moans of my name, her hips jerking uncontrollably while her walls pulse and flutter wildly around my fingers.
Warm, sweet cum floods my tongue and drips down my chin. I keep licking her gently through every shudder, every twitch, drawing out her pleasure until the intense tremors slowly fade and her body melts back into the mattress, breathless and trembling.
I finally kiss my way back up her body, sucking marks into her neck and breasts. When I reach her mouth, I kiss her deep, letting her taste her own pussy on my tongue.
"You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum for me." I whisper.
My fingers slide back between her legs, rubbing her swollen, soaked pussy in slow circles. "I could eat you all night."
Zora kisses me harder, almost desperately, her tongue sliding against mine as her fingers tangle in my hair.
"Please…" She whispers between kisses, her voice trembling with need. "I need you inside me."
I grip my cock, heavy and throbbing, and rub the swollen head slowly up and down her slick folds. She’s soaked, her pussy glistening and pulsing with anticipation.
Every teasing pass makes her hips twitch and chase me. I watch her face. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed, as I finally line myself up and push forward.
The first inch stretches her open. She’s impossibly tight and scorching hot. I groan deeply as I sink in slowly, inch by inch, savoring the way her walls flutter and grip around me.
Zora’s head falls back as a long, broken moan escapes her lips, her nails digging sharply into my shoulders.
When I thrust deep and bottom out, buried to the hilt inside her, we both freeze for a moment, simply savoring the intense connection.
Her pussy clenches and flutters rhythmically around my cock, still exquisitely sensitive from her earlier orgasm.
"Fuck… you feel perfect." I murmur against her neck, kissing and gently biting the sensitive skin there.
I start moving with long, deliberate strokes. Pulling out almost completely before sliding back in deep, grinding against her with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of her arousal fills the room, mixing with her soft gasps and my low groans.
I lean down and capture one of her nipples between my lips, sucking and flicking it with my tongue while my hips keep that slow, deep rhythm.
Zora arches into me, her hands roaming down my back, nails scraping lightly then digging harder as pleasure builds.
I can feel her getting wetter, her pussy pulsing around me with every roll of my hips.
After a while, I pull out and flip her onto her hands and knees. She pushes her ass back toward me eagerly. I run my hands over her smooth skin, squeezing her hips before guiding my cock back inside her.
This angle is even tighter. I slide in deep and pause again, letting her adjust, letting us both feel it. Then I start fucking her harder. Long, powerful strokes that make her moan loudly into the sheets.
I grip her ass, spreading her open so I can watch every inch of my cock disappearing into her dripping pussy. The sight is hypnotic. I give her a light slap, watching the soft flesh jiggle, and she cries out in pleasure.
"You like getting fucked deep like this?" I growl, my voice rough.
"Yes. Fuck yes." She gasps, pushing back to meet every thrust.
I reach around and find her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles while I pound into her. Her moans grow louder, more desperate. Her pussy starts squeezing me rhythmically as she gets close.
I keep the pace steady, relentless, fucking her through the rising waves until she shatters. Cumming hard on my cock with a loud, broken cry, her walls pulsing and drenching me.
I don’t stop. I ride her through it, slowing just enough to savor every contraction before picking up speed again.
Finally, I pull out and flip her onto her back. Her legs spread wide for me instantly. I slide back inside in one smooth thrust and kiss her deeply. Messy, hungry, tongues tangling as I start fucking her with purpose. My pace builds, harder and faster, the bed creaking beneath us.
"I’m gonna cum." I groan against her mouth, my rhythm becoming erratic as pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine.
"Cum inside me." She begs, wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me deeper.
That’s all it takes. I thrust deep one final time and bury myself completely as I explode, thick ropes of cum pulsing into her.
I keep moving slowly, grinding against her, emptying every drop while we both tremble and gasp for breath.
Our foreheads rest together, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding against each other.
I stay inside her for a long moment, kissing her softly as our bodies calm down. Her pussy is still gently fluttering around my cock, warm and full of my cum.
Only when our breathing begins to steady do I ease out of her and settle beside her, pulling the blanket over us before opening my arm in silent invitation. She doesn't hesitate, curling into my side and resting her head on my chest as though it's the most natural place in the world to be.
My arm slips around her waist while my fingers trace slow, absentminded circles along her back. Neither of us feels any need to speak as the room settles into a comfortable silence. We simply lie there, listening to each other's breathing.
After a few quiet minutes, I become aware of her gaze lingering on me. She isn't saying anything, just watching with an intensity that almost makes me smile.
"What?" I ask without opening my eyes.
"Nothing."
I crack one eye open and raise an eyebrow. "Liar."
The corner of her mouth twitches. "I was just thinking."
"That’s a dangerous habit you have."
A soft laugh escapes her, quieter than any I've heard from her before. "I don't remember giving you permission to make fun of me."
"I don't remember needing it."
She nudges my side with her elbow, though there's no real force behind it. "You're impossible."
"And yet..." I murmur, tightening my arm around her until she's tucked even closer against my chest. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I look down at her. "...here you are."
She rolls her eyes, but the warmth in them gives her away. "You talk too much."
"I've noticed you only say that when you don't have a comeback."
"I have plenty."
"I'm waiting."
Instead of answering, she studies my face for a long moment before reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from my forehead. The gesture is so gentle it almost catches me off guard.
"I like you better when you're quiet."
I catch her hand before she can pull it away, turning it over to press a lingering kiss into her palm.
"I like you better when you're smiling."
Her expression softens almost immediately. "I wasn't smiling."
"You are now, Elf."
She lets out the smallest laugh and shakes her head before hiding her face against my chest, pretending to be annoyed. "I hate that nickname."
"No, you don't."
"...Maybe a little."
"Good." I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'd hate to have to find you another one."
She slips her fingers between mine, absentmindedly tracing the scars across my knuckles with her thumb before giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
"You'd still call me Elf."
"I would."
"I know."
The conversation fades as naturally as it began. Neither of us feels the need to fill the silence anymore. After everything we'd survived, simply lying there together somehow says more than words ever could.