Chapter 18 Sandro #2
He hung up and I stood there holding my phone, feeling something warm and unfamiliar in my chest. Pride, maybe. Or satisfaction. Or the strange realization that I'd made a choice because Emilio had asked me to be better, and his approval meant more than revenge.
I spent the thirty minutes preparing. Had my housekeeper change the sheets. Dimmed the lights. Put on music—something low and instrumental that wouldn't distract. Poured wine and left it breathing on the nightstand.
When Emilio arrived, he looked good. Dark jeans. Sweater that hugged his lean frame. Hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it. He walked straight to me and kissed me hard.
"Proud of you," he said again against my mouth. "So fucking proud."
"It was the right choice. Strategically." I pulled him closer. "Killing Vincent would've created more problems than it solved."
"I don't care about strategy right now. I care that you chose mercy. That you're trying to be better." He bit my lower lip. "That deserves celebrating properly."
"How properly are we talking?"
"Very. Thoroughly. Slowly." He pulled back and started unbuttoning my shirt. "I'm going to take my time with you tonight. Show you exactly how much I appreciate you choosing to be better than what you were raised to be."
"I'm still the same person, Emilio. I just made one different choice."
"One different choice is how it starts. Then another. Then another. Until you've built something completely different from what you were." He pushed my shirt off my shoulders. "Now stop talking and let me reward you for good behavior."
I let him take control. Let him undress me slowly while kissing every inch of skin he revealed. Let him push me down onto the bed and map my body with hands and mouth.
This was different from our usual dynamic. Usually I was the one in control. Setting the pace. Taking what I wanted. But tonight Emilio was worshipping me like I'd done something miraculous instead of just showing basic human decency.
"You have no idea," he murmured against my chest, "how much it means that you listened. That you chose differently because I asked you to."
"I'd choose differently for you every time. If you keep asking." My breath caught when his mouth found my nipple. "If you keep rewarding me like this."
He bit down lightly and I gasped. "I'll keep asking. And I'll keep rewarding. As long as you keep trying to be better."
He worked his way down my body with agonizing slowness. Kissing. Licking. Biting just hard enough to make me see stars. By the time he reached my cock I was hard and leaking and absolutely desperate.
"Please," I managed.
"Please what?" He looked up at me with dark eyes. Pupils blown. Lips swollen from kissing. "Use your words, Sandro. Tell me what you need."
"Your mouth. I need your mouth on me."
"Like this?" He licked a stripe up the underside of my cock. Slow. Teasing. Not nearly enough.
"More. Fuck, Emilio, more—"
He took me in his mouth. All at once. Deep enough that I hit the back of his throat. I shouted and my hips bucked up involuntarily. He held me down with surprising strength and worked me with his mouth until I was trembling and cursing and begging incoherently.
"Not yet," he said, pulling off with an obscene pop. "You don't get to come until I'm inside you."
I stared at him. We'd never done it that way. I was always the one fucking him. Always in control. Always the one taking.
"You want to—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"I want to make love to you. Want to show you what it's like to surrender completely. Want to take you apart the way you take me apart every time." He kissed me softly. "Will you let me?"
I should say no. Should maintain my dominance. Should keep the power dynamic exactly where it had always been.
"Yes," I said instead. "Yes. Anything you want."
The smile he gave me was devastating. "That's my Sandro. Always surprising me."
He grabbed lube from the nightstand and slicked his fingers. "Spread your legs. Let me see you."
I obeyed. Felt vulnerable and exposed and absolutely electrified by the reversal of our usual roles.
His first finger pushed inside and I tensed. "Relax," he murmured. "I've got you. Just breathe."
I breathed. Tried to relax. Let him work me open slowly and carefully. He was gentle. Patient. Talked me through every sensation in a voice that was soothing and arousing simultaneously.
"That's it. You're doing so well. Taking this so perfectly." Another finger. Stretching. Finding angles that made me gasp. "God, you look beautiful like this. Completely open for me. Trusting me."
"Emilio—" His name came out strangled when he found my prostate.
"Found it." He pressed deliberately and I saw stars. "You're going to feel so good when I'm inside you. So perfect and tight and mine."
By the time he added a third finger I was past words. Just sensation and need and the overwhelming desire to have him actually inside me instead of just preparing me.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes. Please. Now."
He rolled on a condom and slicked himself up. Positioned himself between my legs. Looked at me with an expression that was almost reverent.
"I love you," he said. "And I'm going to make this so good for you."
He pushed in slowly. So slowly I felt every inch. Every bit of stretch. Every moment of fullness. It burned slightly—I wasn't used to this—but the sensation was incredible. Overwhelming in the best way.
"Breathe," he reminded me. "Just breathe through it."
I breathed. Let my body adjust. Let the burn fade into pleasure. When he was fully seated, we both groaned.
"Okay?" he asked.
"More than okay. Move."
He did. Started with shallow thrusts. Let me get used to the rhythm. Then deeper. Harder. Finding angles that made me curse and claw at his back.
"You feel amazing," he said against my ear. "So tight. So perfect. Like you were made for this."
"Emilio—fuck—right there—"
He'd found my prostate and was hitting it with every thrust. Deliberate. Precise. Absolutely devastating.
I'd never felt anything like this. Had never let anyone have me this way. But with Emilio it felt right. Felt like surrender and trust and love all mixed together into something transcendent.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. "I want to feel you come around me."
I wrapped my hand around my cock. Stroked in rhythm with his thrusts. The dual sensation was almost too much. Pleasure building too fast. Too intense.
"Emilio—I'm going to—"
"Do it. Come for me. Let me feel it."
My orgasm hit like lightning. White-hot and all-consuming. I came across my stomach and chest while my ass clenched around him. Heard him curse and felt him thrust harder. Chasing his own release.
When he came, it was with my name on his lips and his teeth on my shoulder. Marking me. Claiming me in a completely different way than I'd claimed him.
We collapsed together. Both breathing hard. Both completely spent. He kissed my shoulder. Right where he'd bitten.
After a moment he pulled out carefully. Dealt with the condom. Grabbed tissues and cleaned us both up. Then pulled me against his chest and just held me.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?"
"For showing me what that feels like. For making it good. For—" I paused. "For seeing me as something more than what I've always been."
"You've always been more. You just needed someone to show you." He kissed the top of my head. "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we go back to trial prep. Diana might not be as good as me, but she's competent. You'll be fine."
"I miss working with you."
"I know. I miss it too. But this is better. No ethical violations. No conflicts of interest. Just us choosing to be together without professional complications."
He was right. This was better. Even if Diana's trial preparation was boring compared to Emilio's brilliance. Even if I had to get used to competent instead of extraordinary.
What we had now was worth the trade.
I fell asleep in Emilio's arms thinking about mercy and second chances and the way love could make you choose differently than you ever had before.
Vincent Paglia was gone by morning. My investigator confirmed he'd boarded a flight to Phoenix at 6 AM. Probably had family there. Somewhere to disappear into normalcy and never look back.
I could have killed him. Should have, by the standards of my world. But I'd chosen mercy instead.
Because Emilio had asked me to be better.
And I was learning that being better felt surprisingly good.