Chapter 20 #2
I don’t need a book or anything else to distract me. I could spend every hour of the rest of my life just looking at her. I watch her as she fidgets and sighs. She frowns down at her nails, picking at them.
“I forgot the nail polish remover.”
“What?”
“On the list I gave you,” she explains. “I wanted to take off my wedding nail polish.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back. “You’ll probably want to take that off before your next wedding.”
She makes a face at that. I smirk, but she likely can’t see it behind the mask. Since I’m not worried about hiding my face, I pull it off and stuff it into my pocket.
We lapse into silence as the train rolls down its tracks.
I watch her. She casts her gaze about the car, looking at anything but me.
When one of the doors to the car opens, I tense, my hand going beneath my jacket.
Aurora twists to see whose coming and enthusiastically says hello to the train porter wheeling a cart of food towards us.
She hasn’t spoken to anyone but me in days.
And I can’t be described as a chatterbox at the best of times.
I stare the porter down and watch his every move.
But when he doesn’t pull a gun out from his little snack cart, I relax slightly.
I still pay careful attention to his interaction with Aurora, but he seems to be just a cheerful, professional older man doing his job.
He gives Aurora a bottle of sparkling water and a sandwich at her request. Then he turns to me.
The friendliness in his smile falters and distorts.
Can’t say I blame him. Most kind, normal people don’t react well to me.
They might seem alright with me at first. But the more time they spend looking at my face, my eyes, the more they sense that something is off.
Some innate survival instinct innate to prey.
“Do you want anything, sir?” asks the porter. I shake my head.
He grabs the cart handle and hurries out of there. Like he can’t get away from me fast enough.
Smart man.
Aurora opens her sandwich and eats it over the next little bit. When she’s finished with her drink, she starts fiddling with the empty bottle. She puts it on its side and spins it. The green glass twinkles beneath the golden-hued lights of the train car.
“Have you ever played spin the bottle?” she asks, giving the bottle another push.
“No.”
“Me neither. But I know the rules. You’re supposed to kiss whoever it lands on.”
“Sounds stupid.”
“Yeah. It probably is.”
I cross my arms over my chest, watching as she keeps fucking around with the bottle. It’s like she’s practicing different techniques. Sometimes she spins it fast, sometimes slow. Sometimes with a funny little flick of her wrist that nearly sends it sailing off the table.
“Are you trying to make it land on me?”
“What?” she asks, startled. I can see her big eyes widen behind the sunglasses. “No! God, Curse.” She abandons the bottle on the table, leaning back against her bench, her pink mouth going all sulky at my suggestion.
She even looks good when she’s pouting. She should look spoiled and ridiculous. But instead, she’s just fucking cute.
The bottle is still spinning from when she just let go of it. When it finally stops, the neck of the bottle is aimed directly at me.
“Ignore that,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’” she asks. “You just said it was stupid. And it is. I wasn’t actually playing. I was just trying to entertain myself.”
“I see.”
“It’s not like you’d let me kiss you, anyway,” she says quietly. “You don’t even let me touch you.” She goes back to picking her nails. Apparently, she’s finished with this conversation.
But I’m not.
“What did you just say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” she says to her nails. She won’t look at me. And it’s suddenly fucking infuriating.
“Yes, you did,” I say. “You said that I’d never let you kiss me. Because I don’t let you touch me.”
“If you heard what I said, then why did you bother asking me to repeat it?”
“Aurora…”
“Well, it’s true,” she snaps. “I made the mistake of touching you once. Your cheek. That first day at your house. And you made it painfully clear that you never wanted that to happen again.”
“Because I don’t.”
I can’t take it. Can’t take her softness. I’d fucking crush it right out of her.
“I know! Jesus! That’s what I’m talking about. I’m saying that I understand!”
But even if she understands, she seems agitated. The skin at the side of one of her nails has started bleeding, but she keeps picking at it.
Fuck me. I can’t keep looking at that little bright point of blood on her creamy skin.
“Do you want to touch me?” I ask. My voice doesn’t sound right in my ears.
“No,” she says immediately. “I want to get all of this over with. So I can divorce you as soon as possible. And never have to see you again.”
Good. She should never want to see me again. That’s what I’ve been trying to get across to her since I was eighteen fucking years old.
But my blood is pounding too hard in my veins now. My inner ears throb with the thunder of my heartbeat. If I stopped to think about it, I might even realize that I’m shaking.
But I don’t stop. And I don’t think. In a deadly-quick movement, I half stand, bending at the waist and reaching for her. I seize her under her arms, lifting her and dragging her across the table’s surface until she topples onto my bench.
“What the-”
Before she can finish her question, I crash my mouth to hers. She goes rigid at once
I cage her in against the train’s wall, moving my mouth across her lips.
I’ve never kissed anyone on the mouth like this.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I move purely on instinct, claiming, crushing, maybe even bruising, until her lips part beneath mine.
Sweetness floods my mouth. I plunge my tongue inside like I’m fucking her with it.
She fists her hands in the collar of my leather jacket. But she doesn’t do more than that. She doesn’t draw me closer. But she doesn’t try to push me away, either.
I pull her closer instead. My control is fraying. Should have never fucking started this.
Aurora whimpers into my mouth. Her tongue touches mine.
And I am fucking done for.
All the years I’ve spent dreaming of her. Flowers and granita and sun and sea. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Blood and sweat and smoke and come.
It all collides inside me. Explodes with a force I can’t even hope to contain, until my vision goes nearly black with need.
I rip her leggings and panties down, exposing her pussy. She arches and whimpers again when I grasp her clit between my fingers and squeeze. With my other hand, I free my cock, groaning when the tip bumps against the silken skin between her thighs.
Her head thrashes back, away from me.
“Yes,” she says, rubbing her pussy on me. “Yes.”
“Say ‘yes’ one more goddamn time,” I growl savagely, “and I will actually do it, Aurora. Right fucking here. Right fucking now. And I won’t stop even if one of those fucking porters comes in.”
Her eyes are huge behind her sunglasses. Breath tears in and out of her. Her lips are swollen. Because of me.
Fucking Christ. She’s a virgin. Her first time should be in a big, beautiful bed with rose petals or some shit scattered all around it.
But instead, her first time will be with me.
On a train to Toronto.
If she says that fucking word one more fucking time.
“Yes.”
I surge forward. No hesitation.
No condom.
Aurora gasps, then bites down on the scarf.
“Don’t scream,” I grunt. My muscles flex as I shove myself further into her tightness.
She’s so deliriously fucking hot down here.
But she’s not wet enough to fully take me yet.
I press my thumb to her clit, beginning a demanding rhythm that makes her shudder beneath me, squeeze tighter around me, which I didn’t fucking think was possible.
She doesn’t scream. But she does scrunch her face up in pain. She might bite a hole right through the scarf at this rate.
“Tell me to stop, Aurora.” I rub her clit harder. Bury myself deeper. “Fucking say it.”
I don’t know if it’s her pride or her foolishness or her way of letting go of the boy she once loved in Sicily. But she doesn’t take that last chance I give her. She doesn’t tell me to stop.
She wraps her arms my neck.
And wraps her legs around my back.
I brace one arm on the bench and start ruthlessly fucking into her.
Her body jerks with each thrust, her tits bouncing in her sweater.
Tears stream down her cheeks, and I groan like I’m the one in pain.
Because maybe I fucking am. I drag my mouth desperately across her skin, sucking and kissing away the tears even while I’m the one who fucking put them there.
I don’t know how to fix any of this. I don’t know how to stop it. How to go back to what it was before I knew what it was like inside her.
Aurora’s expression slackens. The scarf falls from between her teeth, and she gives a long, low moan. Even with the furious pace of my thrusts, I can feel the beginning quiver of her cunt around me. She’s wet now. Maybe from arousal, maybe from blood.
She’s going to come.
“Do it, angel,” I command her viciously, driving myself as deep as I can go.
She’ll take all I have to give her.
The pain. The pleasure. And the terrible violence of their collision.
She smacks a hand over her mouth when she comes, holding back a guttural scream. Tremors wrack her frame. Her pussy clamps down so hard it makes my hips stutter.
But I keep going, keep thrusting, driving right fucking through it. Until I’m fucking unspooling inside her, nerve by unravelling nerve. Head pounding, chest aching, dick throbbing…
I explode into my angel with the force of a gun going off.