Chapter 34 Natalia #2
“Off,” I tell him, tugging at the waistband. He lifts his hips and I pull them down and his cock springs free, thick and flushed and straining. The sight of him makes my pussy clench around nothing.
“Hang on,” he chokes out. He leans back over the side of the bed, finds his pants on the floor. The tear of foil. I watch his hand roll the condom down his length, and even that—even just watching him touch himself—makes me press my thighs tighter against his hips.
I shift above him and hesitate for just a second, because I’ve never been here before, never had him like this. His hands find my hips. Not pushing. Just steadying.
“Nice and slow,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock. Guide him to my entrance. Sink down.
The stretch is slow and full and so intense after a month apart that my thighs tremble and my breath comes out in a sharp, broken sound.
His fingers tighten on my hips, guiding just enough to help me find the angle, and when I take all of him, his head tips back into the pillow, the muscles in his neck pulled tight.
“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked. “Fuck, Nat.”
I set the pace. Rolling my hips in a rhythm that lets me feel every inch of him. Slow. Deep. The stretch of him. The drag of him. The way his body gives under mine and then tenses again like he’s barely holding himself still.
His hands loosen. He lets me take.
And God, I need to take. For these few minutes, I am not being watched or maneuvered or handled. I am only wanted.
Luca watches me move above him, his eyes dark and fixed on my face like looking away isn’t an option. His lips part. His stomach muscles tighten. I can feel his restraint fraying under my palms.
I lean down and kiss him, still moving. His hand slides up my spine and into my hair. His hips roll up to meet mine and the angle shifts and he’s deeper now, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that sends heat flooding down to my toes. Pleasure shoots through me so fast it leaves me breathless.
“Right there,” I whisper, and I feel him grin against my lips.
He does it again. Slower this time. Deliberate. Like he’s learning me all over again in real time. Like he could map every place I come apart and remember it forever.
He grinds up into me once more, and I lose the rhythm for a second. My hands flatten on his chest. His heart is pounding as hard as mine. There’s something almost unbearable about that, too. The proof of what I do to him.
“Tell me how it feels.” His voice slides over my skin, dark and smooth.
“So good.” My breath is coming in short, sharp pulls. “You feel so good.”
His fingers fist in my hair then, just enough to sting. His hips drive up harder and the moan that tears out of me is loud enough that a sane woman would be embarrassed.
I’m not sane right now.
I grind down onto him, chasing the pressure building between my legs, and every roll of my hips gives me friction exactly where I need it.
My whole body is narrowing around the feeling.
The hotel room, Vegas, my father, all of it falls away piece by piece until there’s nothing left but Luca under me and the unbearable climb of pleasure.
“More,” I gasp.
That’s when he slows.
Just for a second. His eyes find mine. My name on his lips, barely a breath, almost a question.
I grab his face with both hands. “Don’t be careful with me. Not today.”
A feral look crosses his face.
He flips me onto my back so fast the room tilts.
My breath leaves in a startled cry, half laugh, half gasp. Then he’s there between my thighs. My legs lock around him on instinct, and when he drives into me again the angle is so deep, so ruthless, that any coherent thought still in my head is gone.
He braces one hand against the headboard. The other grips my thigh and holds me open for him, and each thrust pushes me higher up the mattress. I can feel the strength he was holding back now. Feel what he could do if I let him. If I asked.
The knowledge should scare me.
Instead it makes heat flash through me so hard I almost choke on it.
“Look at me.” His voice is commanding. “I want to see you.”
I open my eyes.
His face is inches from mine. Flushed. Gaze dark. Beautiful and a little savage. Over me, inside me, looking at me like I’m the only real thing in his world. It pushes me right to the edge.
“Luca, I’m going to—”
“Give it to me, Princess.”
He drives deeper, angling his hips so his cock drags against that spot with every stroke.
I shatter. It hits so hard my back arches off the bed and I clench around his cock, tight, pulsing, my whole body seizing while I cry out his name. He swears against my throat, low and broken, and his rhythm falters.
“Jesus Christ.” His hips stutter. “Nat, I can’t— you feel—”
“Don’t stop.” I pull him closer with my legs, digging my heels into his back.
He buries himself to the hilt and comes with a groan that I feel everywhere, his whole body shuddering against mine, his face pressed into my neck, his cock pulsing inside me.
He stays there for one more beat, breathing hard, then eases out of me and deals with the condom with a muttered curse before pulling me back against him.
The only sounds are our breathing and the faint hum of hotel air conditioning. My hair is probably a disaster. My lipstick is definitely gone. There’s a red mark forming on Luca’s shoulder where I bit him, and a shamefully possessive part of me is pleased to see it.
Eventually he shifts his weight off me but stays close, one arm pulling me into his side. I press my cheek against his chest and listen to his heart slow down.
“You’re alive,” he says quietly, like he’s still verifying it for himself.
“I’m alive.”
“Has it been hard? To be back there?”
A laugh almost comes out, but there’s nothing funny in it. “About what I expected.”
His fingers slide under my chin, tipping my face toward him.
The gentleness in his gesture nearly undoes me worse than the sex did. I look at the ceiling because looking at him right now feels like too much.
“He barely notices me,” I say. “That’s the upside. Nobody does. I eat in my room. I read. I keep to myself. I may as well be part of the wallpaper.”
A muscle twitches near his eye.
“It helps,” I add quickly. “He has no reason to think anything’s changed, so he doesn’t look too closely.”
“Have you found anything?”
“No.” The word tastes bitter. “I’ve been trying. Hovering when he takes calls, finding excuses to be in the wrong hallway at the right time. But he’s careful, Luca. He doesn’t talk where anyone can hear, and when he does, it’s pieces. Nothing solid. Nothing useful.”
I turn onto my side to face him fully.
“His office is still the best shot,” I say. “I just haven’t had the house quiet long enough to risk it. There’s always someone around. Someone coming back sooner than they should.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I can see him trying not to let the worry show too plainly.
“It’s only been a week,” he says eventually.
It’s meant to reassure me. Maybe himself, too. The problem is, the clock is still ticking and we both know it.
“Be careful. Please.”
There is too much in the please. Too much fear. Too much trust.
“I will,” I say.
His hand slides over my waist, warm and heavy.
I put mine over it and snuggle into his side.
I will find something.
Because if I don’t, all my father has to do is wait. Eventually there will be a dress, a church, a man I didn’t choose, and a ring put on my hand like the final lock clicking shut.