Chapter 9 #4
His fingers tease my pussy; one, and then two thick fingers stroke me, making sure I’m ready for him.
He stretches me with a third finger, and as I moan, his lips cover mine.
He’s quick, withdrawing his fingers, and as I whimper from the loss of contact, he’s slowly filling me with the tip of his cock.
I gasp, the pain so fucking exquisite that it’s actually good, and he covers my lips again, this time nipping my bottom lip as I tremble beneath him.
“You can take it,” he says, and his mouth is moving along my jawline to my ear. “You feel so fucking perfect.”
I bend my knees, giving him ample access and then wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper.
“Open your eyes and look what you’re fucking doing to me,” Luca rasps.
I struggle to keep my eyes open, to focus on him. Everything feels amazing, and my senses are on complete overload.
“You feel so fucking good,” I whisper up at him, my nails gently scraping over his back and down to his ass, pulling him deeper and tighter.
He stretches me, but the pain dulls to a pleasant throbbing that intensifies in pure bliss as he slowly begins moving.
“Keep doing that,” I gasp, feeling my body respond all over again, already.
Luca smirks, knowing full well the effect that he’s having on me. His hips grind into mine, his thrusts slow and even until he begins picking up pace, and I’ve never been more grateful for a headboard as I claw at the wooden spindle, holding on as if my life depends on it.
My insides are on fire, feeling the second orgasm ready to rip through my existence as Luca’s breathing comes out quicker, in pants.
“Fuck, I’m close. Again,” I moan, wanting him to know what he’s doing to me and wanting him there with me.
“Not yet,” he commands, and I whimper, holding back, wanting so desperately to come again. “Your pussy feels so good,” he whispers into my ear, and I swear he’s trying to torture me.
I’m trembling all over again, heat flooding me as I can’t delay the inevitable any longer. “Luca,” I gasp. “Please, let me come.” I’m clearly not above begging when it comes to Luca Ricci.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t mock me for it. “Who do you belong to?” Luca grunts, and I feel my body tinkering at the edge.
“You,” I whisper.
“I want to feel you come all over my cock,” he grunts into my ear, and his words send me flying over the edge.
I moan his name, my insides clenching onto his cock, draining him inside of me, unable to hold back any further.
“I’m going to—” he grunts, and I keep him tight against me.
“Luca, come for me.” I want him to feel what he’s given me. My lips move to his ear, gently tugging the lobe, and I feel his cock swell as he finally reaches oblivion with me.
Sometime during the night, I stir.
Luca is sound asleep beside me, his arm draped across my waist.
Quietly, I climb out of bed, grab the clothes I borrowed yesterday and step out into the hallway.
He doesn’t so much as budge, and I don’t want to wake him. I do, however, need to use the bathroom, and he’s dead asleep. I should have asked him where it was yesterday; instead, I was too busy practically setting a fire to his bed.
An amazing fire that stoked something wild inside of me.
I still can’t believe we had sex! And it was fucking amazing.
Outside in the hallway, there’s no indication which door is the bathroom, and all the hallway doors are closed.
Fuck.
Moonlight streams in through the windows above, lighting up a path along the stairs and down the hallway. I wander back down to the first floor. I remember using the bathroom downstairs, and I’m fairly confident I remember which door it was. If I’m lucky, someone left the door open.
My footsteps are soft on the marble flooring. The material is cool beneath my feet, and as I approach the bathroom door, I’m relieved when I find it left open.
I slip inside, quietly shut the door, and take my time. Just thinking about last night with Luca, gets my adrenaline pumping all over again. How am I going to fall back asleep?
From inside the bathroom, I hear a whimper nearby. I can’t quite discern where the sound is coming from, but it’s close.
It sounds like a puppy begging to be let out of its cage.
Do the Riccis have a dog?
I hadn’t seen any signs of a dog, but maybe they don’t let it run through their home. The place is swanky, and with marble flooring, they could be worried about scratches to the marble? Does marble even scratch?
I finish up in the bathroom and pause in the hallway. There’s no sign of Nova’s or Luca’s parents.
I still don’t understand why they live together under the same roof. This place is big enough for several families, but why share a home?
And what’s with that bodyguard tonight who was by the back door?
None of it makes sense.
There’s more whimpering.
Whining.
It definitely sounds like a puppy, which makes me miss the family dog, Scarlet, so much.
She’s an Australian Shepherd, the runt of the litter, at twenty-five pounds and fully grown.
I begged Mom and Dad to let me bring her to college, but they’re right, there’s zero chance she’d be allowed in the dorms. And I definitely couldn’t smuggle her in. She’s too loud and whiny.
I quietly approach the closed door where the sound of the puppy is emanating.
Seeing as how big this place is, does their puppy have an entire room to herself?
I stand outside the mysterious door and press my ear to the door. The whimpering is definitely coming from inside.
Poor puppy, she probably has to be let out to use the potty. Hopefully, there will be a leash nearby. While the house does have a fenced-in yard, I don’t want to risk chasing the puppy through the yard to get her back inside, assuming it’s a girl.
I quietly turn the handle of the door beside the bathroom, praying it’s not someone’s bedroom and I’m about to embarrass myself.
Darkness floods through a set of stairs, and the whimpering grows more insistent.
A soft path of lights flickers along the stairs, making it so I don’t need to turn on the light switch as I descend the wooden staircase.
There’s a basement?
Of course, there’s a basement. This house has absolutely everything.
The staircase is a spiral of wooden stairs, and I quietly take each step, careful not to trip and fall.
The whimpering grows louder, more insistent on my approach as I near the final stairs and can see a soft overhead bulb illuminating the space.
I expect to see a crate with a puppy and maybe even a dog bed or some other sign of an animal, but instead, the cage is floor to ceiling, with metal bars. A prison cell.
And it isn’t a dog nestled inside whimpering, it’s a child.