Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Damiano
Nothing happens in my house without me knowing about it. Thanks to the sophisticated security systems I have installed, I'm able to track people's movements via motion sensors and cameras.
Over the past few days I've been watching Violetta. It's how I know she's contemplated running and decided against it. I've seen her checking out windows, doors, the gate at the end of the garden. She's figured out ways to leave and she hasn't. Yet.
Viewing hours of footage of her wandering around the house is also how I know my restless wife comes down to the pool late at night when she thinks everyone else is sleeping. It's her sanctuary and I haven't intruded. Until now.
Tonight I decided enough is enough. We can't go on like this, existing in the same house but drifting past each other like ghosts. So I came down here before her. If she comes, I’ll take it as my opening. If not, I’ll think of something else.
I'm in the water when she walks through the door. I finish my length and look up at her. She's hesitant. It's been six days since I forbade her from leaving the house and she's still wary of my intentions.
"Come on in,” I tell her.
She twists her lips to the side as she makes her mind up. Then she unties her robe and lets it fall. She's wearing a dark blue swimsuit. It suits her.
With flawless execution she dives into the pool and powers through the water. She swims to the far end, tumble turns and reaches me in seconds. She does this several times before coming to a stop. Resting her arms on the edge of the pool, she examines me in the low amber light.
"I didn't realize you enjoyed midnight swims."
"It's two a.m."
She smiles tightly. "You know what I mean."
"I couldn't sleep.” That’s not entirely true.
"Conscience troubling you?" Her tone is curious, not confrontational.
"Is yours?" I return.
"I have nothing to feel guilty over."
"Nor do I."
She frowns as she mulls that over.
"Tell me about the Martelli situation," she says. "Any progress?"
"Anxious to leave, are you?"
The lines around her mouth tighten. "I'd like to know if the threat's still out there."
It would be easy to lie. But whatever future we may have can't be built on lies. I’ve been holding her here under false pretenses for days and I can’t continue. Not with her.
"The threat has been neutralized."
She huffs out a breath. Relief or disbelief, I'm not sure.
"Since when?"
"Since a few days ago."
She works her jaw as she processes this, taking her time. That's something I've come to rely on about Violetta. She thinks before she speaks.
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"I thought about it. I didn't want to."
She frowns, then turns and swims away. I join her. She's fast but I have to slow my natural pace to stay alongside her.
We swim in silence for a while. It's the closest we've been in eight days and neither of us acknowledges it.
I'm aware of her the whole time, the breaths she takes, the grace with which she tucks into a turn, the way she moves through the water with the ease of someone who mastered this when she was young.
After several laps, I get out and sit on the edge of the pool, my feet in the water.
Violetta stops after her next lap. She treads water and studies my face.
"You had no right to keep that from me. I was scared."
"I know."
Her eyes widen. "Are you sorry?"
"About that? Yes."
She looks at me for a moment as if deciding whether that's enough. I'm not sure it is. I'm not sure anything I could say would be enough right now.
She comes to the edge and starts to pull herself out. I reach down and help her. We sit next to each other in silence until she begins to shiver. I get up and fetch her a robe. She stands and I wrap it around her shoulders.
"You're a controlling asshole."
"I am."
She looks at me for a long moment, then turns to walk away. I let her go. It’s all I can do.
Violetta reaches the door and stops. She turns and walks back to me.
Even in her bare feet, with wet hair hanging loose around her face, in a fluffy white bathrobe, she looks regal.
When she reaches me, she raises her hand and I think she's going to slap me. I'll let her if that's what she needs.
She doesn't. Instead she curves her hand around my cheek. Then she pushes up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. I go completely still and let her.
Violetta
I don't plan to kiss him. It just happens. But the moment my lips touch his I know I want to see this through, to go wherever it takes us. Whatever else I've felt about Damiano over the last few days, I've missed his closeness, his touch, the pleasure he gives so freely.
This kiss feels different. Damiano isn’t the one in charge. He holds back. His restraint is for my sake, not his.
He lets me kiss him on my terms for a moment. Though there's a certain satisfaction in being in control it doesn't offer the thrill I need. Pressing myself against him I whine in the way that always gets him going.
Immediately, Damiano takes control, kissing me harder, his tongue probing my mouth as he stakes his claim. Without breaking the kiss, he walks me backward until I hit the wall. Then he steps back.
"You want this?"
I nod and he waits for verbal confirmation. There's no room for misunderstanding.
"Yes, I want this."
A wicked gleam brightens his eyes. "Then strip."
I work my arms out of the thick fluffy bathrobe and let it drop to the floor. Then I lower the straps of my swimsuit. It clings to my skin but I quickly struggle out of it. Damiano lowers his swim shorts and tosses them away.
I reach for him but he steps back.
"Uh-uh, volpina. On your knees."
Something about him calling me little fox drives me wild. I drop to my knees and look up at him, nervous anticipation thrumming through me as I await his instructions.
"Open your mouth."
I do as he asks, parting my lips wide enough to make my jaw ache. He strokes his thick, hard cock a couple of times and then steps forward to slide his length all the way to the back of my throat.
My eyes water as I try not to choke. Damiano strokes my cheek, soothing my panic, and I get myself under control. I wrap my lips tight around him as he grabs a fistful of my hair to hold me in place.
"I'm going to fuck your hot little mouth, Violetta, and come down your throat. You'll swallow every drop."
I nod as much as I'm able, eager to give him this. As he thrusts in and out, setting a furious pace from the start, I reach out to grab hold of his thighs.
"No, Violetta. Hands behind your back."
As I do as he commands, clasping my fingers together, my shoulders are drawn back and my breasts pulled forward. Damiano murmurs his approval as he fucks my mouth like a man possessed. Tears spill from my eyes as I gag but he doesn't let up. He grasps my hair tightly and takes what he needs.
When he groans as if in pain I know he's about to come. He pulls back a little as his seed bathes my tongue. I do as he commanded and don't waste a single drop.
His breathing is harsh as he bends to pull me to my feet. Before I can register what he's about to do, he lifts me up and dumps me over his shoulder.
The last time I was carried this way it was Tomasz taking me away from the scene of the ambush. This feels nothing like that. Then I was terrified. Now I know I’m safe. Whatever else has happened with Damiano, I trust him in this.
He carries me up the stairs at the back of the palazzo and along the corridor to his bedroom. I squeal as he tosses me down on the bed. He's on me a second later, stealing my breath with a kiss that ignites my arousal.
As he presses against me I realize he's already hard again. The man is insatiable. I’ve been mulling something for days. I know what I give him, though I can’t be sure why. He positions himself between my legs and I make a decision. Whether it's a wise one, only time will tell."
I put my hands on his chest and he pauses. "Not like this."
He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at me, unsure. I push him away and he goes without hesitation.
Before he feels the sting of rejection, I roll over onto my stomach. Then I get up onto my hands and knees.
"Ah," Damiano murmurs, understanding I want something different.
He kneels behind me and grabs my hips. His cock nudges my pussy and I shake my head.
"No, not there."
Damiano goes very still. "Violetta?"
I know he's clever enough to grasp what I'm offering but he won't take it until I'm sure. That's one thing I love about him. He'll push my boundaries but never overstep.
Though the words feel wrong in my mouth I say them anyway. "I want you to fuck my ass."
He blows out a breath, then trails his fingers along the crease between my butt cheeks to press against my forbidden hole.
"Violetta, are you sure?" he checks. "You really want to give this to me?"
"I do."
He murmurs something quietly to himself, making his own decision.
For a minute, as he climbs off the bed, I think that's it. I've gone too far and upset him somehow.
Then I hear the drawer in the nightstand opening. He gets back onto the bed behind me and presses down on my shoulders until my face hits the mattress.
I hear him uncap the bottle he got from the drawer and the sounds of him slicking his cock with lubricant. He dribbles a little on my ass and smears it over the puckered hole.
When he slides a finger inside me I moan deeply. It's strange but I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't touched myself there before. He adds another finger and pushes them as far as they'll go before slowly drawing them out again.
"You're sure about this?" he asks again.
"I'm sure," I say resolutely. "It's yours."
He emits a strangled sound I don't have time to interpret, because he follows it by slowly pushing the head of his cock into my ass. I breathe slow and steady as he presses forward.
My muscles resist at first but he reaches between my legs and plays with my clit, distracting me with tingles of pleasure as he seats himself fully inside me.
"How does it feel?" he asks.
There are a million words to describe the fullness, the stretch, the slight burn. I could wax lyrical for hours about the sense of completeness I feel at giving him his last part of me. I could tell him how in this moment I”m sure everything will be alright. Instead, I opt for a single word.
“Good."
I whimper as Damiano slides out then drives forward, his hips slamming against my ass. He does it again, harder this time. He's experimenting, seeing what I can take.
"More," I urge him.
My plea pours fuel on the fire burning inside him. His fingers dig almost painfully into my hip as he fucks me. I push back against him, taking him as deep as he can go.
"Touch yourself," he commands.
Instantly obeying, I slide a hand between my legs. I'm drenched. I run a finger over my clit until the pressure starts to build at my core.
"Put a finger in your pussy," Damiano grits out as he pounds into my rear. "Fuck yourself with it."
I shove a finger inside myself and begin to move it back and forth in a steady rhythm.
"I feel you. It's like you're stroking my cock." Damiano echoes what I was thinking.
As my breathing becomes more erratic, Damiano shoves my hand away and replaces it with his. He drives two fingers into my pussy and presses down on my clit. I scrabble at the sheets trying to find something to hold onto.
And then it happens. My arms and legs tremble as the most intense orgasm I've ever felt sweeps over me. I forget how to breathe. Blood thunders through my veins and my vision blurs. I collapse against the mattress, a boneless mass.
Damiano drops down next to me. I lie there beside him, his cum leaking from my ass, and smile as he stares over at me. He reaches over and strokes my hair back from my face.
There's a tenderness in the action at odds with the tumultuous look in his eyes. The contradiction is so like my husband. I think I understand him better in this moment than in all the time I’ve known him.
I open my mouth to, what? Offer him assurance? Tell him that everything is fixed between us when I know that it's not.
I don't get the chance to say anything. He speaks first.
"If you want to leave, to return to your old life, I won't stop you."
Stunned, I take a moment to absorb that. Is that what he wants me to do? Before I can challenge him, his phone buzzes on the nightstand, the sound becoming more insistent the longer he goes without answering.
With a curse, he sits up and grabs his phone. He checks who's calling. He gets up from the bed and disappears into his walk-in closet, presumably for privacy.
Damiano emerges a few minutes later, dressed in black pants and a black shirt. It’s like a slap in the face. One minute we were lying naked on the bed together and now he’s dressed like he’s going to the office.
“I have to go.”
He offers no explanation. As he leaves, I shake my head in disbelief. What business won't wait until morning?
It smarts that whatever the call is about it's more important than me, than us.
Wrapping myself in a sheet, I get up and head for my own room.
As I clamber into bed, tears prick my eyes. I gave him every part of me and it still wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us.