16. Isabella
sixteen
Isabella
Fear, excitement, and adrenaline are pumping my blood.
Passion, lust, and confusion.
Fear of getting shot, or even worse, killed.
Excitement of the action and escaping the bullets. But how do I feel, and why did I hit Salvatore when he’s injured? I hit him until he pulled me to him.
I hate him for forcing me into this marriage, but I can’t stop kissing him. I need more.
His wound.
I tear my lips from his, his dark eyes filled with lust and demand. I tear his shirt open; I need to properly check his wound. It has stopped bleeding. It’s an exit wound, thank God. Otherwise, I would be afraid of doing what I do next.
I place my hand on his chest and trail my finger down to the valley of his abs. Salvatore’s eyes never leave mine. When my hands reach his pants, I swallow down my nerves, forgetting all the promises I made and all my fears. I unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants.
I want this; I need this.
Salvatore’s hand finds my neck and he pulls me to him, kissing me frantically. His kiss is dominating, demanding.
Still kissing him, I pull his hard cock out of his pants. I wrap my hand around his thickness, running my hand up and down. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easy for me. He growls against my mouth, his lips trailing kisses down to my neck, where his tongue licks the length of my neck. My hands clutch his hair, and I throw my head to the back, moaning. With his hand on my back, pulling me to him, he kisses from my neck down to my collarbone and the exposed flesh of my breast. Groaning, he tears down my dress from behind instead of opening the zipper. My breasts spill out in front of his face. Grinning, he takes one into his mouth, then the other. Sucking, biting.
We’re both frantic. All that can be heard is our grunting and moaning. His hands find their way under my dress and between my legs.
“Fuck!” he roars, finding my panties drenched with my arousal as he rips the material from my body.
I kissed him first, knowing very well where the kiss would lead. I made the first move. I raise my hips slightly until my wetness touches his cock.
I need this.
I never thought I would. Still kissing him, I slowly glide my pussy on his cock. When his cock reaches my barrier, without thinking twice, I slide all the way down, ignoring the instant pain in favor of the lust, need, and want that are overpowering my mind and taking over my senses. He tears his lips from mine, a questioning look in his eyes. I never told him, never planned on having sex with him. I bite my lower lip, fighting the pain.
He opens his mouth to ask, but I shake my head.
“Don’t stop. Please, I need this.” I kiss him. “Don’t talk. I’m begging you. Just fuck me.”
I begged, just like he said I would.
He grabs my hips, helping me up and down, the feeling of his cock inside me so liberating. My pussy clutches him as I slide up and down.
My moans and his grunts fill the small space of the car. The feeling of his skin on mine is euphoric, the pain now covered by pleasure. I find the rhythm and match his.
With his head buried in my neck, he kisses me, marking me. The electric feeling down my spine follows to my core when his finger presses my clit, making me scream his name as I come. Salvatore follows soon after, cursing under his breath.
I bury my head in his neck, his hand tracing my back.
With his cock still inside me, I wait as the adrenaline leaves my body.
It’s then I realize what I’ve done and relief and guilt both flood through me.
“Care to explain what just happened?” Salvatore asks.
I exhale heavily, pressing my face deeper into his neck. I’m not ready for this conversation. “No, not now. Can we talk about it later?”
I can feel his disagreement, but I’m saved by a knock on the window.
“Don’t move,” Salvatore says.
I don’t plan to. I’m too exhausted.
Salvatore wraps his jacket over my body before he slightly opens the window. I can hear a commotion outside, but still, I stay in my place, unable to move.
“We’re fine. We’re going back to the hotel. We can talk later,” he says to whoever is there. The exhaustion overpowers me, and when Salvatore pulls his cock out of me, I wince.
I pull away from Salvatore, his face a mixture of emotions. “The adrenaline is wearing off you. I’ll drive us back to the hotel.” He buttons up his pants and he does up his jacket covering me.
I nod, not having the energy to talk. He opens the door and slips from beneath me, letting me sit on the passenger seat. He buckles my seat belt before closing the door.
As I fall asleep, all I catch from Salvatore is, “You are going to be the death of me.”
I stumble from my disoriented nap just as Salvatore pulls the car into the underground garage.
He opens the door, leaning down to scoop me in his arms.
“No, I can walk. You’re hurt,” I say, pushing him as I get out of the car. He says nothing, just nods firmly. Two more cars pull into the garage, which he ignores. His hand falls on the small of my back, leading me toward the elevator. His body shields me from behind. From the threat, or from the questioning eyes?
Pressing his hand on the screen, the elevator opens and we enter, his body in front of mine now. The door closes and I catch a glimpse of Dante and Gabriel, followed by more men.
When the elevator door opens, he takes my hand and leads me inside our suite. Only then does Salvatore relax. His shoulders fall, relieved. He leads me inside the bedroom and to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, and even covered in his jacket, my front is on display, my torn cream dress barely covering me. I’m covered in Salvatore's blood. It’s even on the side of my face, my makeup smudged, and my hair is all over the place.
Slickness and the slight pain between my legs are the only reminders of what happened between us. The disappointment that I couldn’t keep my promise doesn’t come. It’s almost like I’m someone else, living in some other universe.
The water from the shower catches my attention. I look at Salvatore, who has taken off his shirt. His face looks haunted, but the moment he looks at me, it changes like he’s trying to suppress how he feels.
“Take a shower. I need to take care of my shoulder.”
Shit, I didn’t think. Of course. He was hit, and it hurts.
I take a step toward him. “I’ll do it. Do you have a first aid kit?” He looks at me questioningly. Probably contemplating if he can trust me. “I know what I’m doing. I used to help my father’s soldiers.”
“It’s in that cabinet.” He motions to one near the left side of the basin. I turn around and take it out of the cabinet. Turning around, I find Salvatore already sitting on the closed toilet seat. I take time tending his wound, disinfecting it well.
Salvatore never takes his eyes off me, like he’s studying me. My body heats under his gaze. Strangely, I like it. I shouldn’t, but I do. I like his attention.
He breaks the silence. “You should have told me.”
I look at him, contemplating the look on his face. “Why would I? And when? When you ordered me to choose to marry you, or when you avoided me until the wedding? Or when you were conspiring about how to send my father pictures of us marrying?” Anger fills my chest. How dare he?
“You’re right. I avoided you, I had my own reasons for that.
I cover the wound before looking at him. “You don’t get to judge me, Salvatore. It was my choice and no one else’s.” My voice shakes a little, and I take a deep breath to control myself. “So, can we please not talk about it? I don’t owe you any answers.”
“Fine, for now.”
“Now and in the future. This is an agreement, Salvatore, not a real marriage.”
“Fine. You can take a shower. I’ll clean up here.”
“You go first. I need to pull the pins out of my hair.”
He nods and takes his clothes off. I watch him pulling down his pants and underwear, showing me off his firm ass and muscular legs. His cock is smeared with my blood. And it isn’t a little. It’s too much for virgin blood. I wince, the image reminding me of the pain between my legs.
I take the pins out and turn to Salvatore, washing his blood off his body and mine from his cock. And then I do something stupid. I take my torn clothes off and join him in the shower.