Chapter 21 Emilio #2
"Patience." But he reached for the lube. Slicked his fingers. "Spread your legs."
I obeyed. Let him position me exactly how he wanted. Vulnerable and open and completely at his mercy.
His first finger pushed inside slowly. Carefully. Like he was afraid of hurting me even though we'd done this dozens of times.
"Relax," he murmured. "I've got you. Just breathe."
I breathed. Let my body adjust. Let him work me open with patient thoroughness.
"That's it. So perfect. Taking this so well." Another finger. Stretching. Finding angles that made me see stars. "God, you're beautiful like this. Completely open for me. Trusting me."
"Always trust you." The words came out broken. "Even when I shouldn't."
"You should trust me with this. With your body. With making you feel good." A third finger. Pressing deep. Finding my prostate and working it deliberately. "I'll always take care of you like this. Always make sure you feel perfect."
By the time he pulled his fingers out I was trembling. Desperate. Beyond words.
I heard him open the condom. Felt him position himself between my legs. Looked up to find him watching me with an intensity that stole my breath.
"I love you," he said. "More than I've loved anything or anyone. You changed everything."
"I love you too. Now please—"
He pushed in slowly. So slowly I felt every inch. Every bit of stretch and fullness. It was overwhelming and perfect and exactly what I needed.
When he was fully seated, we both groaned.
"Okay?" he asked.
"More than okay. Move."
He did. Started with shallow thrusts. Let me adjust to the rhythm. Then deeper. Harder. But still careful. Still controlled. Like he was afraid of being too rough.
"You won't break me," I said. "You can let go."
"Not tonight. Tonight I'm making love to you. Slow and careful and worshipful." He shifted his angle. Hit my prostate. "Tonight you get to feel how much you mean to me."
He made good on that promise. Took his time. Varied his rhythm to keep me on edge but never quite enough to make me come. Used his hands and mouth and cock to map every response. Every sound I made cataloged and remembered.
"Touch yourself," he finally said. Voice rough with strain. "I want to feel you come around me."
I wrapped my hand around my cock. Stroked in rhythm with his thrusts. The dual sensation built quickly. Too intense. Too perfect.
"That's it. So good. Come for me, Emilio. Let me feel it."
My orgasm hit like a wave. Crashed through me and left me gasping his name. My ass clenched around him. Pulled him deeper. Triggered his own release.
He came with my name on his lips and his face buried in my neck. Marking me. Claiming me. Proving we belonged to each other in the most fundamental way.
We collapsed together. Both breathing hard. Both completely spent.
After a moment he pulled out carefully. Dealt with the condom. Cleaned us both up. Then pulled me against his chest and just held me.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?"
"For tonight. For taking care of me. For making me forget about everything except us." I pressed closer. "I needed that."
"You deserve that. Every day. Not just after difficult testimony." He kissed the top of my head. "I meant what I said. I love you. More than anything."
"I know. I love you too."
We lay in comfortable silence for a while. Then Sandro spoke again.
"What you said today. About repaying the money. Were you serious?"
"Yes. I've been making payments since I started at Diana's firm. Thirty thousand so far. I figured if I'm paying you back, no one can claim I was bought."
"I never wanted you to pay me back."
"I know. But I wanted to. For my own peace of mind." I shifted to look at him. "Does it bother you?"
"No. It's very you. Ethical and principled even when you're in love with someone who's neither of those things." He smiled slightly. "Keep the payments if it makes you feel better. Or don't. Either way, the money's not why I love you."
"Why do you love me?"
"Because you're brilliant and ethical and brave. Because you chose me knowing it would cost you everything. Because you defended me in court and on the witness stand without compromising who you are." He cupped my face. "Because you make me want to be better than what I was raised to be."
"You are better. You let Vincent go with mercy instead of violence. You're trying."
"Because you asked me to." He kissed me softly. "That's what love is, isn't it? Choosing to be better because someone you care about asks you to try."
"I think so. I'm still learning." I settled back against his chest. "Marco called it Stockholm syndrome. Said I fell for my captor."
"Did you?"
"Maybe. I don't know anymore. All I know is I chose you. Keep choosing you. That has to mean something."
"It means everything." He tightened his arms around me. "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we go back to court. Back to playing our roles. But tonight we're just us."
I fell asleep in his arms feeling safer than I had all day. Despite the trial. Despite my testimony being used against him. Despite everything still uncertain and unresolved.
Because this—us—this was real.
Everything else was just noise we'd learn to navigate together.
I woke before dawn. Sandro was still asleep beside me. One arm thrown across my waist possessively even in sleep.
In a few hours we'd be back in that courtroom. But this moment—right now—this was ours.
I kissed his shoulder gently. Slipped out of bed. Found my clothes from yesterday. Got dressed quietly.
Sandro stirred. "Where are you going?"
"Home. Need to change before court. But I'll see you there."
"Emilio." He sat up. Hair mussed. Eyes still heavy with sleep. "Thank you. For last night. For everything."
"You don't have to thank me for loving you."
"Maybe not. But I'm grateful anyway." He stood and walked to me. Naked and unselfconscious. "Whatever happens with this trial. Whatever the jury decides. We're going to be okay. Together."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He kissed me. Long and deep. "Now go. I'll see you in court."
I left his apartment and drove home through empty morning streets. Showered. Changed into a fresh suit. Tried not to think about what the prosecution's remaining witnesses would say.
Tried not to think about how close we were to a verdict that could change everything.
Tried not to think about anything except the way Sandro had held me last night. The way he'd made love to me like I was precious. The way he'd promised we'd be okay.
Because I believed him.
Against all logic and evidence and professional training, I believed him.
And that faith—that trust—that was either going to save us both or destroy us completely.
I'd find out which soon enough.