2. Elio
ELIO
Her lips are soft, yielding in a way that makes my blood roar.
She is soft in the way I knew she would be and still, somehow better than anything I imagined, giving in to me just enough to make the blood rushing through my ears suddenly surge straight down to my cock, coaxing something primitive inside me to lift its head and bare its teeth.
She tastes like the wine from dinner and something sweeter, something uniquely belonging to Isabella.
A taste I could spend a lifetime chasing and still never have enough of. The realization hits me so hard, it draws a low groan from deep in my chest, rough and involuntary.
I deepen the kiss before the thought can settle and caution can drag me backward and remind me what a terrible idea it is to give in like this.
My free hand slides to the small of her back. The other remains locked around her face.
My palm spreads over her spine and I pull her flush against me, my cock giving a hard jerk the moment her body fits against mine.
Christ.
The contact is brutal in its perfection.
Her slim curves mold against my broader frame, obliterating every ounce of self-control and reminding me of every sleepless night I’ve spent thinking about what it would feel like to have this exact collision.
She feels made for my hands, for my mouth.
The thought is possessive enough to shame me, but shame has no place left in me now. Not with her mouth opening under mine and my tongue curling against hers until she moans.
When we break apart, her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from mine, and those amber-flecked eyes are dark with want.
“Come with me,” I tell her. The words are not a request.
She nods once, trusting in a way that should terrify me for her. It does in a way, but not enough to stop me from pulling her away from the wall and taking her hand in mine, lacing our fingers to prevent her from pulling away.
I lead her out of the small room and through a side exit of the venue, the cool night air of the city wrapping around us slowly.
My car waits in the back parking lot, it black armored exterior catching the faint moonlight overhead.
I open the door for her, watching as she slides in with that graceful ease she always carries, and then join her behind the wheel.
We drive in silence as the city lights streak past us in blurred ribbons of gold and white, the whole world outside the windshield dissolving into motion. The engine hums low in the background.
Neither of us speaks.
Everything that needed saying had already been done, so just by the single look she gave me inside that moonlit room and in the way she let me lead her out without protest and settled into the passenger seat beside me with that same maddening certainty.
My hand leaves the wheel long enough to move across the center console and find her thigh.
The moment my palm settles there, a dark satisfaction curls through me when she doesn’t push it away.
My fingers tighten once, squeezing just enough to feel the shape of her beneath them.
Her fingers wrap around mine.
There is nothing timid in the gesture as her thumb traces idle patterns over my knuckles, slow and absentminded on the surface, yet each light stroke sends another sharp current racing straight down to my cock until my grip on the wheel tightens hard enough to ache.
“Where are we going?” she finally asks.
“Somewhere no one will look for us,” I answer automatically.
Where we are going is my private apartment, a place no one knows about. I have never brought anyone there before—lover, ally, not even family.
It exists outside the usual map of my life, a place carved out in secret from the demands of the city and the endless reach of my name. It is not home, but it is the closest thing I allow myself to a reprieve.
The building itself is forgettable by design, tucked into a quiet residential pocket far from the neighborhoods my family owns.
We pull into the private garage beneath the building, my tires whispering over the well-maintained concrete before I guide the car into its designated space.
The second the engine cuts, the silence that follows is nearly deafening.
Only the faint ticking of the cooling engine and the sound of my own pulse beating too hard keep my ears from ringing.
When I look over at Isabella, she is watching me. That honey-gold gaze slides from eye to eye as she reads me.
Her lips part slightly, but whatever thought crosses her mind stays there.
I get out first and come around to open her door.
The garage light paints her in muted shadow, softening nothing about the effect she has on me.
She places her hand in mine as she steps out, and that simple trust nearly undoes me more than any flirtation could. I close my hand around her fingers and lead her toward the private elevator without a word.
The ride up is brief. The doors open directly into the apartment. Inside, it’s sparsely decorated.
Dim light spills across hardwood floors and the few pieces of furniture I’ve bothered to furnish the space with. She steps inside and turns slightly, taking it in.
For one absurd second, I wonder what she sees when she looks around.
Not just at the apartment, but at the part of me that this exposes.
As soon as the door closes behind us, whatever little restraint I had left snaps.
I move before thought can interfere, pulling her to me again and kissing her harder this time.
She meets me with equal fire, her hands shoving my jacket off my shoulders, fingers working at the buttons of my shirt.
I back her toward the bedroom, lifting her easily when we reach the threshold of it. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, and I groan at the searing heat of her core pressed right against the thick bulge straining in my pants.
We tumble onto the only piece of furniture in the room, a massive king-sized bed, in a tangle of limbs and desperate touches.
Her dress rides up around her hips, one delicate shoulder strap slipping down to reveal the soft swell of her breast and those faint freckles that dust her light olive skin.
They trail lower, disappearing beneath black lace, and I lose my mind at the sight of them.
I kiss every single one I can reach, slow, open-mouthed kisses that turn into bites and sucks, marking her as mine.
Mine.
After fucking weeks of stolen glances and subtle teasing that I had convinced myself I’d been reading into, she’s finally underneath me where she belongs.
“Elio…” She breathes out my name, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me hiss.
I strip her slowly despite the inferno raging in my veins. I want to savor this, memorize every inch I’ve been stupid enough to deny myself of touching and tasting.
Her dress pools on the floor when I finally strip her of it and her lace bra—fuck, the same black set that has haunted me since I caught a glimpse of it—comes into full view.
I peel it away reverently, groaning at the sight of her perfect breasts, nipples already tight and begging for my mouth on them.
“Do you have any idea,” I rasp, cupping one in my hand, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her back arch off the mattress, “what you do to me?”
She moans in response.
I lean down and suck her nipple into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the sensitive peak while my thumb teases the other.
Isabella moans again, the sound making my cock throb painfully. Her hands fist tighter in my hair, holding me to her as I devour her like a starving man.
I move lower, kissing down the delicate trail of freckles across her ribs and stomach until I reach the edge of her lace panties.
I hook my fingers in the waistband and drag them down her legs, leaving her completely bare beneath me.
For a moment I just stare, drinking her in. Her pussy is glistening, so fucking wet for me, it makes my mouth water.
“Such a pretty thing you are,” I murmur.
I spread her thighs wide and settle between them, dragging my tongue slowly up her slit. Isabella cries out, her hips jerking against my mouth to grind against it. I growl and pin her down with one forearm across her lower belly, then feast on her like she’s the last meal I’ll ever have.
Long, deep licks quickly move to swirling around her swollen clit. I take two fingers to circle them around her dripping hole before sliding them both inside her, curling them until her entire body jerks again.
I want to savor her.
I want to ruin her for anyone else.
I pump my fingers in a steady, punishing rhythm while my tongue works her clit without mercy.
Her walls flutter and clench around my fingers, getting wetter with every stroke. I add a third finger, stretching her wide, preparing her for my cock, and she shatters hard on my tongue with a sharp cry.
“Elio!” Her thighs tremble violently around my head.
But I don’t stop. I keep nursing her through it, drawing out every pulse and shudder until she’s gasping and whimpering.
I don’t give her time to recover.
I sit back on my heels, licking her taste from my lips.
My cock is aching, heavy and leaking as I shove my pants down just enough to free it. It jerks hard in my fist when I wrap my fingers around the thick length and line myself up at her entrance. In one brutal thrust, I bury myself completely inside her.
She lets out a loud cry.
“Fuck,” I groan. She’s so tight, so hot, so damn wet, clenching around me like she never wants to let go of me.
I start to move, keeping my strokes deep and devastating, rocking the entire bed with every thrust.
I claim her over and over, stretching her wide around my cock, filling her completely until there’s no room left for anything but me.
My hand grips her hip hard enough to leave marks I want her to feel for days after this is over.
The other is braced beside her head as I fuck her with every second of pent-up lust and raw obsession I’ve had for her since the first moment I laid eyes on her over a year ago.
Each time I slam into her, I grind my pelvis against her clit with every stroke.