Chapter 1 #8
I look up and I see Gio enter the room in a black button-up. Sleeves rolled just enough to show the tattoos on his forearms. His trousers are dark. Black hair slicked back but a little undone. Sharp jawline. That chain glinting against his throat.
He looks like the kind of man people lie for.
Or kill for. Or give up everything for.
And I have a key. To him.
Oh my God, who am I.
Now he's across the table, not even looking at me. I almost smile to myself. Almost. Because for a second I forgot…this had an expiration date.
But it's just harder to walk away from someone once you've seen them scared. Harder to pretend they were just a good time.
I know I don't have the kind of heart that cares lightly.
I know myself. It's always all or nothing with me, even when I swear I'll keep it casual. I swallow hard. Don't think about it. Not now. Live the moment. He finally looks at me. Just once. We sit. Right across from each other. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the static.
He glances down at my fingers on the table. I glance at his lips. We don’t speak. But we almost smile. Phone buzzes.
I check it.
LORENZO:
-Rava. I'm literally BEGGING you.
-Could you say something smooth to Daisy about me. Please.
-In exchange, I give you 12–15 uninterrupted, nobody-else-knows-about-this-minutes with Gio. Right now. Door locked. No cameras.
-Say yes <3
I blink. I read it again. Then again.
ME:
-Wait. Hold on. What?!
LORENZO:
-You heard me. I need your help with your sister.
-And I know exactly what you and Gio need.
ME:
-Waitwaitwait
-You want DAISY?
LORENZO:
-Yes, Romeo, I want your very smart, very hot, very terrifying sister. Don't judge me.
ME:
-Since when?!
LORENZO:
-Since she yelled at the guy at a rental car desk and I almost proposed on the spot.
ME:
-…you need therapy.
LORENZO:
-Probably. But you need my cousin. So. Trade?
I cover my mouth with my hand and look around. Across the table, Gio still looks unfazed. His finger is tracing slow circles on his notepad.
ME:
-Okay. But if she murders you, I want it on record that I tried to stop this.
LORENZO:
-Accepted. If she kills me, scatter my ashes over your Spanish hotel bed. The one where Gio probably almost broke your spine.
ME:
-LORENZO WHAT THE FUCK.
He sends me a heart emoji.
Five minutes later
Lorenzo raises his voice like he just remembered something genius.
"Wait—before we move on, the Spain samples, did anyone grab those?" A couple of people glance around, confused.
He continues, effortlessly. "They're locked in the back room. Only I have the key. Rava, Gio, you two saw the real ones in person. Go grab what you think fits best."
Gio stands slowly. Straightens his shirt. Doesn't say a word. I follow, doing my best not to look like I've just been sold into some secret deal with the mafia.
As we pass by Lorenzo, he leans in with the cockiest smirk I've ever seen.
"Fifteen minutes," he whispers. "Make them count."
I don't respond. Because I already know we will.
We have fifteen minutes. That's all Lorenzo gave us. Fifteen minutes away from that suffocating table. Fifteen minutes where I get to stop pretending I'm not going out of my fucking mind. And the second Gio slams the door shut and locks it, I’m on him.
I grab him by the collar, shove him back against the metal shelf, and kiss him violently.
I gasp and he takes that as an invitation to shove his tongue deeper. I've got his bottom lip between my teeth, and I bite it.
He fists one hand in my hair and the other wraps around my throat. My knees nearly give out. I'm gasping, already drunk off the tension, and his hand squeezes just a little harder around my neck.
Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I want. I smirk against his mouth, barely able to talk through how wrecked I sound. "Harder."
His eyes flash. The pressure tightens and I moan, whimpering silently into his mouth. "You like that?" he whispers, lips brushing my jaw as he pins me to the wall.
"Obviously," I pant, kissing his neck multiple times. "What gave it away?" I ask, smiling. He smiles back, and then crashes his mouth back onto mine like he's done letting me talk. I bite his lip again. "You look so hot in that shirt," I breathe against his mouth. "I couldn’t stop staring at you."
He chuckles, low. "Yeah? You gonna do something about it?"
I kiss him harder. He grabs my ass. Hard. Drags me into him. I gasp. "You were thinking about last night."
"I was thinking about your mouth." He slides a hand between my thighs. I almost buckle. "Oh my god—"
"The noises you made when you came between us."
I moan, and he kisses me again to shut me up. I melt into him. Can't even breathe straight. "Don't be loud, love," he says, "your whole family is two rooms away."
"I know," I gasp.
He laughs. Fucking laughs.
I bite his neck. "Can I go down on you?" I whisper.
His hand slips under my shirt, dragging up my stomach.
"Please?" I’m already so hard it hurts.
"You're gorgeous when you beg," he mutters. "You should see yourself. So fucking needy."
I grab his belt. Yank him closer. "Take it off," I say. He raises an eyebrow. "You giving orders now?"
"I'm desperate," I breathe. "Don't pretend like you don't love it." He pushes me against the shelf this time, lips back on mine, hips grinding into mine.
"I do," he whispers. "I fucking love it." We kiss like animals. Moaning silently into each other's mouths. My hands in his hair, his mouth at my jaw, my ear, my throat. I’m burning.
"Fuck—" He gasps. "Fifteen minutes isn't enough."
"Then we better start now." I drop to my knees like I belong there. Eyes up, waiting for him to give me permission to touch.
He’s already hard and so fucking beautiful I almost whimper. His shirt is open, abs glistening with sweat, chain hanging low between his collarbones.
He looks down at me like I'm the filthiest thing he's ever seen. God, I want that look. I crave it. I reach for his zipper, but he grabs a fistful of my hair first, lifting my head up. "Look at me," he says.
I do.
Knees pressed to the floor. My dick already throbbing from nothing but the weight of his stare. "You want this?" he asks. I nod. "Please." His lips curl, half-smile. "Such a good boy."
Fuck. I almost cum right then. He lets me go, and I move carefully, unzipping him, pulling him out. I kiss the head first. Just to hear his breath hitch. Then I lick a stripe up the underside and try not to moan.
"You're so hard already," I whisper. "Did I do that to you?"
"You did. You on your knees like this? Shit, Rava…
fuck me sideways." He tangles his fingers in my hair again, tighter this time, guiding me.
Reminding me who I'm doing this for. And I love it.
I open my mouth and take him in, lips wrapping around the head, tongue teasing the slit, hand stroking what I can't reach.
My throat is already stretching for him. My jaw burns. But I don't care at all.
I want to feel used. I want to be good for him.
"Just like that," he hisses, hips jerking forward. "Fuck, your mouth should be illegal."
His praise makes me moan around him. The vibration makes him grunt.
"You're made for this," he says. "You're made to suck my dick."
I pull off just long enough to nod. "I love it," I breathe. "I love making you feel good."
"Then keep going," he says. "Show me how much."
And I do. I sink back down, let him slide deeper this time.
Gag once, and he moans. I can feel his dick twitch on my tongue as I suck harder, faster, worshipping every inch of him.
He holds my hair tight now, guiding me. His hips roll slow and deep into my mouth, controlled but desperate.
Every time I look up, he's already watching me.
"Look at you," he whispers. "So fucking pretty like this. You're the fucking standard now."
I moan again, while my spit soaks his dick.
My hand is shaking around the base. I don't want to stop. I want to make him cum down my throat and praise me for it.
Begging with my actions and I don't even care.
Because when Gio talks? When Gio praises me?
It's like the whole world fucking tilts.
I need to be told I'm doing it right.
That I'm making him feel good.
That I'm giving him what he needs.
"God, Rava—" His voice cracks. "What the fuck did you just do with your tongue, do it again, don't stop—" His grip in my hair goes rigid. His thighs lock.
And I let him fuck my mouth. He’s close.
I can feel it. In the way his thighs tremble.
In the death grip he has on my hair. But most of all, in the way he keeps trying not to make a fucking sound.
We aren't alone. There are voices down the hall.
He knows it. I know it. And it makes everything worse. But better.
I hollow my cheeks, suck harder. They don't know I’ve got Gio's dick down my throat.
God.
God, it's hot. The secret. The silence. Me on my knees, him barely holding it together. The risk of someone knocking. The idea that anyone could hear if he's too loud.
"Rava," he hisses through gritted teeth, "fuck, I'm gonna—"
I suck deeper. Want him to cum completely undone, right here, right now, and not be able to moan about it. His body jerks and his hand flies up, clamps hard over his own mouth just as his hips buck and I feel the first hot pulse of his orgasm shoot down my throat.
I want to smile. His head slams back against the wall. His hand over his mouth. The other one yanking my hair tight, like he's hanging on for dear life, like he's trying not to scream.
And fuck, I love it so much. His dick twitches in my mouth, spilling over my tongue. His abs clench, the whole time he’s muffling himself with his own hand, desperately quiet. I reach up and grip his wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth just a little, to hear the sound that slips out.
It’s a gasp. A guttural, broken one. I smile. He’s still on it. So I suck harder. Let him have it. Let him fuck my throat until he has nothing left. And when he finally stops, I pull back.