Chapter 11
Tommaso
Gina is silent as she clutches my hand, and I lead us down the dirt path. It slopes gently toward the water, the sound of the ocean echoing off the cliffs.
I love it here, especially at night. The crumbling pools and foundation of what remains of the Sutro Baths, with no one around, feels like standing on the world’s edge.
But as I stand with Gina by my side, it feels like that edge is meant solely for us. For her to take the leap with me into the dark unknown, trusting that her light and my strength will help us forge something new. A new kingdom. A new empire.
The wind whips her ponytail. I want to wrap it around my fist and kiss her, control her, but I fight that urge and remain calm and in control.
She looks up at me with a smile. “What is this place?”
A surge of need for her causes raw lust to pulse through me, and the unhinged beast in me wants to take control.
But I will not fuck her the first time on the ground. She deserves to be worshipped on an altar like the goddess of light that she is.
“It's what's left of the Sutro Baths.” My voice is thick with lust and need, but I’m hoping her innocence won’t allow her to realize that. “It once was an indoor saltwater bath built in the 1800s.”
“What happened to it?” She gingerly steps around one of the foundations filled with rain and seawater.
I watch her—the gravitational pull of her demands it. “It burned down years ago.”
“And you like to come here?” Her head snaps up to look at me across the pool. “Wait, do you get rid of bodies here?”
“Do you think that’s why I brought you here?” I test.
“No.”
I slowly stalk around the crumbling cement to stand in front of her. My thumb gently runs over the pulse on her neck, watching her beautiful face in the moonlight. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
If she knew even half of what I was planning, she’d run from me, screaming. Or she should. But if she did, she wouldn’t get far. Because I’ll never let her go.
She shakes her head, stepping closer and craning her neck to look up at me. “I’m not afraid of you, Tommaso. But…I am scared.”
My thumb presses harder over her thundering pulse. My words are halted, though, when her eyes glisten with tears.
“It scares me…this thing between us. How fast I’ve fallen,” she admits, and my heart hammers painfully. “How intense it feels. How unreal.”
A tear slips free to land on her cheek, and I brush it away. “Why the tears?”
“Because…” She closes her eyes, and there’s doubt staring back at me when she opens them again. “Because you’d never want a woman like me…not truly or in the ways that matter in our world.”
I’m struck speechless.
“I’m not beautiful enough. Or refined or elegant enough, or—”
“Stop,” I say harshly. “You’re never to speak of yourself like that. As being lesser.” Both my hands frame her face, holding her so she stays looking at me and understands. “As being anything other than perfect.”
She scoffs, then snorts. And squeaks in horror.
And I burst out laughing, wrapping my arms around her to keep her to me. “You’re absolutely perfect.” My humor fades, and I sober so she understands I’m serious. “You’re the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen, Gina.”
“Tommaso… Look at me.”
“I am, il mio sole.”
“Well, your sun must be blinding you because I’m standing here with my crazy hair and sweatpants, no make-up—”
“None of that creates beauty.”
“Says the man who I’ve only ever seen in a perfectly tailored—not to mention, expensive as fuck—suit.” I hike my brow at her cursing, not hating it, and remain silent for her to say what’s on her mind. “And your perfectly styled hair. Your calm and controlled demeanor.”
I smile, then reach down and hike her up around my waist, and she naturally wraps her legs and arms around me as if we do this every day.
“What are you doing?” She’s breathless.
I walk with her over to a higher raised slab of concrete and gently set her down on it.
“What are you doing, Tommaso?”
I answer by unbuttoning my suit jacket and shrugging it off. I take off my weapons holster and set it on the ground, where I can quickly grab a gun if I need to.
Her eyes are wide, traveling over my broad chest and arms encased in my white shirt. I spread my jacket out on the makeshift altar that will have to do for now, pick her up, and place her on it so she’s not directly on the cold concrete.
“Tommaso.” Her voice is shaky, trembling. “I’m a virgin,” she whispers.
I pinch her chin between my finger and thumb. “I know. And that isn’t what’s happening right now.”
Disappointment cascades over her features before she hides it, and her long, graceful throat moves as she swallows.
“We won’t be having sex…not tonight,” I say, both for her as well as a stern reminder to myself.
“Then what are we doing?”
“I’m shedding a bit of my armor.”
Her brow pinches in confusion before she quickly realizes what I mean. “Your suit. It’s your armor.”
“I can’t very well get naked right now.”
She leans back, resting on her hands, with an impish grin. “Oh, I don’t know about that…”
Oh, the little minx wants to tease, does she?
I pull off my tie and toss it beside her, then remove my cufflinks and put them in my pants pocket. Next, I slowly unbutton my shirt. She sits up tall but doesn’t say anything to try to stop me.
When I shrug out of my shirt, her eyes are wide as she takes me in. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “Somehow the clothes make you look smaller. How is that possible?”
I chuckle, standing still, letting her take her fill of me. She reaches toward me, and her fingertips run over the sole tattoo on my body—my family’s crest above my heart.
“You’re magnificent, Tommaso.”
There’s reverence in her tone, and I cup her chin, tilting her face up to look into her luminous, deep eyes.
“The clothes don’t make the person, but to many, they think they do.
When people look at me, they see a powerful, successful king who’s in control of his world, because that’s what I let them see… what I want them to see.”
She shifts to pull her legs up, then she rises to her knees. Even with my jacket, the concrete would be hard on her knees, but she isn’t showing any signs of discomfort, so I let her be.
She reaches to muss up my hair, threading her fingers through it over and over again, and I love the feel of her touching me.
I might look like I’m in control, but I’m on the verge of snapping and pushing her down on the concrete slab and ravishing her.
Worshipping her, so the only thing she knows, accepts, and prays to is me as her god.
“You’re trembling.” She pulls her hands from my hair and places them on my chest. The warmth of her touch sears my insides. “You’re cold.” She reaches for my jacket under her, but I catch her wrist.
I yank her so she’s off-balance and tumbles into me.
“I’m not shaking with cold. I’m shaking because, with you, I find it hard to remain calm.
” I grip her shoulders and lay her down, leaning over her as she stares up at me, with small, little pants escaping her lips. “I find it hard to remain in control.”
Her eyes travel over my face, and in her gaze, I see a challenge. “Then let go.”
I’ve never understood when people have said they could hear it when their control finally snapped. But I do now.
It’s like a crack of thunder within me, and I grip her as she lifts to meet me. She doesn’t shy away from the ferocity of my kiss or my touch, which is good because I’m not tender or slow; I’m ravenous and unhinged.
Gina’s hands don’t stop moving; she’s exploring every inch of my chest, back, and arms. My face and my hair.
To think she’s untouched is making me mad. She’s a blank canvas. One that she and I can explore together, discovering what she loves, what brings her pleasure. One that we can paint together, depicting the beautiful life I’m determined to create with her.
She whimpers as I bite her throat and arches into my mouth. “More. Please,” she begs.
I suck and kiss the bite mark, soothing away the pain. “What do you need?”
She takes my hand and places it inside her jacket, where her breast fills my palm. I can feel the lace of her bra under her shirt, and her tight, hard nipple.
Breaking the kiss, I lower my hand to the hem of her shirt and lift it slowly, giving her time to stop me. She doesn’t, and when I reveal her breasts, encased in see-through light pink lace, I’m nearly taken out at the knees.
“You’re beautiful.” Those words don’t do it justice, though.
“Touch me,” she pleads.
My eyes lift from her dark, perfect nipples peeking at me through the lace to her eyes. And I fall deeper for her.
Keeping my gaze locked on her, I lower my head and lick her taut nipple first before wrapping my mouth around it, swirling my tongue over it and the lace.
“Oh God.” Her voice shakes. Her eyes close, and she threads her fingers through my hair. “More, Tommaso. God, I want so much more.” Her hips lift and wriggle, searching and needing.
“Tell me to stop,” I say before going back to my ministrations on her perfect breast and caressing her other one, then her ribcage and her stomach as I run my hand lower.
She doesn’t tell me to stop; she only urges me on with her movements and how hard she’s gripping my head and directing it to her other breast.
When I slip my hand under the waistband of her sweats, I pause to check in with her. “Gina.”
She doesn’t answer; she just tries to pull my head back to her breast and arches up into me.
Biting back my chuckle, I say again, more firmly, “Gina.” Her eyes pop open and find mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Fuck no,” she breathes.
I can’t stop my laugh this time.
Doubt flashes across her face. “Are…are you not into it?” She tries to sit up. “Dammit, what the hell was I thinking?”
I take her hand while I straighten and place it over the raging hard-on tenting my pants. “Does this feel like I’m not into it?”
“Cristo,” she breathes, momentarily slipping into Italian. “That feels unbelievably large.” Her gaze lifts from staring at my crotch, a bit panicked. “Is it supposed to be that big?”
“My queen will learn to take every inch of her king.”
She melts back, a soft, dreamy look in her eye. “I like it when you talk like that. Dominant but tender…and dirty.”
I run my knuckles up her stomach and back down.
She catches my hand. “I’m not ready for sex,” she whispers. “But I’m ready for something.”
Guiding my hand, she slips it back into her sweats and underneath her lace panties, while bending her knees and letting them fall.
“My perfect queen,” I groan as my fingers touch her slick core. Before I have a chance to explore her, to get her used to my touching the most intimate part of her body, she lifts her hips and guides my finger inside her.
Her taking control of her pleasure, owning it, is sexy as hell, and eroding my threadbare control.
Her eyes widen in shock as pleasure coats her face. “Your finger feels so much better than mine.”
I sink deeper into her, groaning again at how amazing she feels. So slick, silky, and unbelievably tight as she clenches around my finger. “Have you been touching yourself, fucking yourself”—she releases a guttural moan at that—“and making yourself come?”
“Yes.” Her hips buck as I find a slow rhythm, moving in and out of her. “I’ve been thinking of you. Only you.”
“That’s a good girl.” She clenches hard around me. “My good fucking girl.”
“Tommaso,” she gasps as I thrust into her harder. “Tommaso.”
“Say my name, Gina. Sing it, scream it while I make you come all over my finger. You’re soaking my hand, my perfect girl.”
Her hips lift in an instinctual rhythm to my thrusts as I explore what she loves and what takes her higher.
Her head twists as she writhes under my touch. When I finally give her clit the attention the swollen bud needs, her back arches, and I know she’s on the cliff.
Her inner walls quiver and clench as she curses in nearly incoherent Italian. Then she’s crying and screaming my name, uninhibited, as she completely unravels under my touch.
She doesn’t know it yet, but if her fate wasn’t sealed before, it most certainly fucking is now.