Chapter 8 #3
‘We should celebrate,’ I murmur, staring into her deep-blue eyes and getting a little lost in the warmth I see there.
‘What are we celebrating?’ she murmurs back.
‘You.’
‘Me?’ She looks confused.
‘Yeah, you. For finally breaking out of your chrysalis and becoming a butterfly.’ I cringe a little at how cutesy that sounds, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she quite likes the idea of it.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ she says, sliding her hand up to cup my jaw and draw me towards her for a kiss. As soon as our lips meet, I feel a rushing sensation all over my body. It’s not just lust. It’s something deeper than that. Something new and frightening.
‘So now you can go back to your lecturer guy and seduce the Y-fronts off him,’ I joke, trying to throw off the disconcerting way I’m feeling.
But even as I say this, I’m hoping she’ll laugh at the idea of that.
Tell me she’s changed her mind about Adam – that she wants to stay with me, to continue whatever it is we’ve started here.
My stomach lurches when she just nods, smiles and says, ‘I don’t think he’s the Y-fronts-wearing type. He strikes me as more of a boxer shorts kind of guy.’ There’s a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s picturing him right now, standing in front of her with a hard-on and a smile.
I feel sick.
I want to say something disparaging about him – point out that the guy doesn’t deserve her if he hasn’t taken the time to figure out what an amazing woman she is – but before I can formulate the words I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see an old school friend of mine grinning back at me.
‘Francesco!’ I say, giving him a jovial slap on the back. ‘Come va?’
‘Bene,’ he replies, returning my friendly greeting.
‘Good to see you. I thought you were in London now?’ He glances towards Juno and I turn to look at her too.
She’s gazing at him in fascination. Now, Francesco is a handsome guy, I’ll admit that, but I don’t think he warrants that much fucking adoration.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as she flashes him a smile.
‘Ciao, bella,’ Francesco murmurs smoothly, stepping towards her and kissing her lightly on both cheeks. I can tell from his body language that he finds her attractive. Too fucking attractive for my liking. ‘And who are you?’
‘I’m Juno. I’m a friend of Sandro’s.’ She says this so easily, I know in my heart that’s exactly how she thinks of me. Just a friend – with benefits, sure, but still just friends.
‘Hey, have you guys visited the Bargello while you’ve been here?’ Francesco asks.
When we both shake our heads, he says, ‘You must! I’m the curator there now and we’ve been doing wonderful things.
You were always interested in art, weren’t you, Sandro?
’ Before I get a chance to reply, he carries on speaking, looking directly at Juno, to my utter fucking annoyance.
‘Come. I’ll show you around personally. We have some amazing exhibits at the moment. You’ll love them.’
‘That would be wonderful, but I’m not going to be in Florence for much longer,’ Juno says sadly.
‘What? No, you must stay!’ Francesco says, giving it the full works: big, sad eyes and a covetous hand on her shoulder. I recognise the move. It’s one I’ve used myself to good effect.
‘Maybe I’ll make it back some day soon,’ she says, clearly buying in to this crap.
I want to punch something. Probably him.
‘I need another drink,’ I mutter, and before either of them can say anything I stride away to the bar and order a double shot of whisky.
Turning back with the glass clutched in my hand, I watch them from a distance, feeling my heart hammering in my chest.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
Francesco moves his hand to brush an eyelash off Juno’s cheek and shyly she smiles up at him.
Out of nowhere a veil of blinding rage descends over me.
I bunch my hands into fists and drag in a ragged breath, feeling as if someone’s just ripped my fucking guts out.
I don’t want anyone else touching her like that, seeing that hazy look in her eye, making her smile. I want it to be all for me – only me.
Not for Francesco – and definitely not for that fucking lecturer asshole back in England.
Unfortunately, she chooses that moment to look over towards where I’m standing and the smile fades from her face.
I see her excuse herself from Francesco and start to move through the crowd towards me.
Forcing a neutral expression onto my face is pretty fucking tough, but I think I manage it, because when she makes it over to me she gives me a tentative smile.
‘Are you okay? It looked for a second like you were annoyed about something.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, swatting away her concern and staring over her shoulder at a small group of women by the bar.
She turns to follow my line of vision and I sense her tense as she spots what, or rather who, I’m looking at.
‘Do you know them?’ she asks. Her voice sounds high-pitched and accusatory, as if she thinks I have a nerve to check out other women in the room. This riles me. She has no right to police what I do, not when she clearly thinks it’s okay to make eyes at my friend in front of me.
I shrug. ‘I’ve seen them around at parties. I may have slept with one or two of them.’
This is a lie, and I feel a sting of shame as I see her visibly tense at the insensitivity of my answer.
‘It looks like you’re not finding it hard to handle attention from men today either,’ I add, feeling the need to defend myself.
I wouldn’t have been looking at those women if she hadn’t been fawning over Francesco the wonder kid.
Even as I think this, I know what a fucking tool I’m being.
She’s just testing her new-found abilities.
Life has suddenly opened up to her and she’s enjoying treading new ground. I get that.
But I also hate it.
I notice a photographer spot us from the other side of the room and start to head our way, his camera held up ready to take our photo. Panic shoots through me. I don’t want to have to deal with that right now.
‘Come with me,’ I whisper into her ear, taking her by the elbow and quickly leading her out of the room. There’s a sweeping staircase to our right that leads to more function rooms and the roof terrace. A good place to hide out for a while.
‘Where are we going?’ she pants as I urge her to climb the stairs in front of me.
It reminds me suddenly of following her up the stairs at the party in Chelsea and I feel a pang of nostalgia for the life I had before we embarked on this crazy folly.
But only for a second. What I have in front of me now is worth so much more.
I’ll never regret agreeing to help her. Never.
Even if it does end up tearing my fucking heart out.
‘I’ve never had sex on a roof,’ I murmur as I come up alongside her on the landing. She looks at me with shock in her eyes.
‘What? We can’t have sex here.’
‘Of course we can,’ I say. ‘We’ll be discreet. No one will know.’
She pauses for a moment, as if needing to think about it, then nods, her mouth widening into a mischievous smile. ‘Okay, then. I guess there’s no harm in adding it to our catalogue of sexual experiences.’
Our. I like that word on her lips.
The door to the terrace is locked, but I pull out a credit card and jemmy it a bit until it unlatches.
Juno looks at me with awe. ‘I had no idea I was sleeping with a master criminal.’
I give a nonchalant shrug. ‘I spent a lot of time in my youth figuring out ways to escape from places.’
‘Which places?’
‘Locked detention-classrooms at the school I went to mostly.’
She shakes her head, her expression dismayed, but I’m too busy thinking about what we came up here to do to worry about her reaction.
It’s a good-sized roof terrace with creeping plants clinging to an ornate, chest-height, wrought-iron railing that runs one length of the building. We both stand and stare at the cityscape in front of us for a moment, entranced by its higgledy-piggledy beauty.
‘Wow,’ Juno murmurs, walking to the railing, her hips swaying provocatively, her ass looking incredible in her tight shiny dress.
I stride over to stand behind her, pressing the front of my body to her back so she can feel exactly how much she’s turning me on.
‘Yes, wow,’ I say, pushing her hair to one side and bending to kiss her elegant neck.
I feel her shiver as I brush my lips over her skin.
She smells amazing – clean and fresh, but with the spicy undertone of her own unique scent.
My mouth waters as I move across to kiss her bare shoulder and slide my hands round to cup her breasts.
Pressing herself back against me, she leans into my body, using me for support. And it’s another perfect moment. Her scent in my nostrils… her beautiful body under my hands.
I don’t want it to end. But I know it’s going to.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with frustration.
Why wasn’t I born with astounding intelligence instead of my useless fucking looks? Why can’t I be the kind of man she wants to spend the rest of her life with?
There’s only one reason she’s with me right now and I guess I’ll have to play that to my advantage.
I want to ruin other men for her. I want her never to have sex with anyone the way she has it with me. And I want her never to find anyone else to satisfy her the way I can.
I want her like I’ve never wanted anything or anyone before. Just as I’ll never be the same again if I can’t have her.
I ache for her, my body a throbbing mess of torment.
Skirting my hands away from her breasts and over her stomach, I bunch the skirt of the dress in my hands and lift it up till I can slide one hand between her legs. I drag in a guttural breath as I discover she’s not wearing knickers, my cock jumping with excitement at the discovery.
‘Not wearing any underwear out to a fancy party like this?’ I mutter teasingly into her ear. ‘Bad girl – wicked, filthy girl. I should punish you for that.’
She makes a sound, as if she agrees with me.
Gathering up her beautiful mane of hair in my left hand, I wrap it round and round my fist till I’m clutching it in a tight knot at the base of her skull.
She’s all mine to control now. With my right I slide my fingers between her pussy lips and find that magical bundle of nerves, running my fingertip gently over and round it.
I hear her gasp in pleasure as she jerks at the intimacy of my touch. ‘Yes. Yes, just there, touch me there,’ she urges.
She’s already wet with excitement, and I use the silky lubrication to glide two fingers into her pussy. Her body rocks against me, juddering with pleasure as I begin to finger-fuck her, sliding the pad of my thumb over her clit.
‘An orgasm with a view,’ I murmur and she lets out a throaty laugh, her body wiggling seductively against mine.
‘I want you to fuck me,’ she whispers, turning her head to look me in the eyes. ‘I want to feel your cock inside me.’
I’ve never been more willing to do something in my life.
I slide my hand away from her and release my grip on her hair, then quickly undo my tux trousers and pull out my cock, which I quickly cover with a condom that I stashed in my pocket earlier. Just in case.
‘Spread your legs,’ I instruct her roughly. As soon as she does this, I pull her hips back towards me and slide inside her, taking myself right to the hilt in one quick, smooth movement.
‘Ooh!’ she moans, but it’s a happy sound. The sound of relief.
I begin to pound into her ruthlessly, possessing her entirely. I want her never to forget this. Never to forget me. To yearn for this time we’ve spent together for the rest of her life.
She’s tight and hot around my cock, and is pushing her ass back against me now, taking my hard thrusts, her breath panting out of her throat in rough, vocal gusts.
‘Sandro, I’m so close. Please, please…’
She wants my hands on her too. I know she does. She needs to come desperately, but can’t quite get there. I’m totally in control of her pleasure and she’s begging me for mercy…
And suddenly I’m coming – spurting hot and forcefully inside her. My head rushes with lights and colours and my whole body jerks with the ferocity of my orgasm. And I ride it, on and on, still thrusting inside her until the feeling finally begins to subside and my senses return.
Then the shame hits me.
I feel as though I’ve just regressed ten years.
Because for the first time in my life I’ve lost control of my own need. The one advantage I had, the thing I’m so good at, so proud of – the thing that drew her to me specifically in the first place – has just shattered into a million useless pieces.
‘Oh!’ she mutters. ‘Did you come already?’
I hate the sound of confused disappointment in her voice. But I’m not about to let her see my distress.
Ignoring the insistent aftershocks of my orgasm, I spin her round and push her against the railings.
Then I drop to my knees and lift her leg to hook it over my shoulder and suck down hard on her pussy, finding her clit with my tongue and lashing at it over and over again.
She begins to jerk and twitch against me.
‘It’s too much, Sandro, too hard!’
Through the heat of my humiliation I force myself to be more gentle and take my time with her, slowing my movements until I feel her begin to move with me instead of against me.
Her hands grip my head, her fingers tugging at my hair, and I allow her to guide my movements, giving her the control for once, letting her win this.
A few more strokes of my tongue and she starts to come, making breathy, satisfied sounds in the back of her throat and gripping my hair tightly between her fingers until she’s finally satisfied.
And I know in that moment that that’s the end of it. The end of us. I’ve taught her everything she needs to know now. She’s surpassed me. There’s nothing more she can learn from me. So I’ve served my purpose. Now I have no unique selling point.
I don’t want to look at her. My heart is thumping so hard I think it’s going to break my ribs. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.
Adrenaline shoots though my bloodstream, making me antsy, and all I can think about is getting out of there. Getting away from the curious look on her face and the gnawing sadness in my gut.
‘Are you okay?’
The confusion in her voice only adds to my sick feeling of guilt. Whatever I say right now, it won’t be enough to stop this falling to pieces right in front of me.
I’m itching to get out of here now. So instead of answering her I take the coward’s way out.
‘Let’s go back to the apartment. I think we’ve had about as much fun as we’re going to have here,’ I say.