Chapter 44
Elowen
After Wendy leaves—which happens just five minutes after she calls Jacob—I head back upstairs to my room. Salvario is sitting on my bed, laptop open on his knees, and Rosie is staring at the screen like she understands what he’s doing.
He pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard, watching me.
I walk toward him. “You know how many times I’ve dreamed of you sitting like this in my room?”
He sets the laptop aside and grabs my ass, pulling me onto his thighs.
“Tell me.”
I smile, feeling the mask crack around my mouth. “I wrote it all down. You’ll have to read it and find out.” I trace his collarbones. “By the way, the house is ours now. For a whole week.”
He hums.
I glance down at his bare chest and abs. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
He kisses my shoulder. “So I can feel you against my skin.”
I trail my fingers down his chest, over his stomach, tracing the old scars scattered there.
“You’re hot, Mr. De Falco.” I say it in a flirty tone, and his dick responds perfectly beneath me.
Rosie nudges my leg with her nose and lets out a short bark. I look down at her.
“What’s up, baby?”
She circles—her universal signal for I need to go out. I slide off Salvario’s lap.
“Eat your breakfast. I’m taking Rosie out.”
He looks down at her, then back at me. “You go wash that thing off your face. I’ll take her out.”
“Absolutely not. The guards will see you.”
“I won’t leave the house. Just open the door for her.”
I grin. More cracks appear in my mask. I must look ridiculous right now.
“You know I love you, right?”
He stands. In his gray sweatpants, no shirt, ruffled hair—he looks so... normal. It tugs at something in me, reminds me of a conversation we need to have.
He kisses my head. “I love you too.”
Rosie barks again; Salvario moves toward the door. I ogle his sexy back until he walks out with Rosie at his heels.
I sigh, smiling, and head to the bathroom.
Salvario
“How did you get past the security?” she asks, mouth full of toast.
“I hacked it. Disabled certain parts.” I reach out and wipe a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
She smiles. “I still can’t believe we’re having breakfast together.”
I can. This is time I stole for us. I overheard her grandparents mention this trip four days ago. I worked without pause since then, hacking the security system here.
“Won’t anyone find out you tampered with it?”
“No. I don’t leave traces.”
She chuckles. “You say that like you’ve been breaking into houses your whole life.” Her smile drops when my expression doesn’t change. “Have you?” She asks seriously.
“I killed every member of the Camorra in their own homes.”
She frowns. “What’s the Camorra?”
“The mafia that once ruled southern Italy.”
She finishes her juice and stands.
“Let’s have this conversation in the sitting room.”
I wipe my face and rise. She picks up my glass and holds it out to me.
“I don’t drink juice.”
She brings it to my lips. “It has vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants. Drink it like a good boy.”
I lift an eyebrow at her choice of words, wrap my fingers around her hand, and drink the red, sweet-sour thing.
“You don’t call a man who’s fourteen years older than you ‘boy,’ princess.”
She sets the glass down and takes my hand, leading me to a room I haven’t seen before—their family sitting room. It’s spacious, with large windows covered in dull green curtains. Long couches placed in the center. The room is filled with natural light, and despite its size, it feels comfortable.
She leads me to a couch, and we settle onto it. She turns to face me, tucking one leg beneath her.
“I can call you whatever I want. You’re my man.” She declares it like a fact.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer
“That’s right. I’m your man. But you still can’t call me a boy.”
She grins. “Or what?”
I kiss her smiling mouth. She hums, responding softly, slowly.
“Or you’ll have that sore little pussy of yours spanked.” I murmur against her lips.
She chuckles. “That word sounds so strange in your mouth.”
I lean back into the couch. “Why?”
She rests against my chest. “You rarely use words like that.”
She sits up abruptly. “But you very comfortably use words like slut and whore.” She purses her lips tightly. “And for me, no less.”
“I’m sorry for that. I was in too much pain and anger.”
She turns her face away. “Whatever. You called me a slut and a whore. I’m not talking to you.”
I stare at her.
She glances back at me. “What are you looking at? Appease me. I’m mad.”
“How?”
She groans and hits my chest with her small fist—barely any force behind it. If anything, her hands on my bare skin feel fucking incredible.
“Read research papers on this too. How am I supposed to show my face to anyone if they find out my boyfriend doesn’t even know how to appease me?”
I grip her sides and pull her onto my lap, sliding her closer until her ass presses against my already hard dick.
“Why don’t you teach me?”
She places her hands on my chest, slowly trailing them down to my abs. A shiver races down my spine straight to my dick.
“First, you say sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “Then you say you’ll never do it again.”
“I’ll never do it again.”
She hits my chest again. “Don’t just parrot me. Say it like a promise. Like you’re reflecting on yourself.”
I tug her closer, wrapping my arms around her. Her face comes closer.
“I promise I’ll never do that again.” I say it slowly, looking into her golden eyes.
“Now do something that makes me happy.” The words come out on a breath.
I slide my hands under her shirt and pull it over her head, tossing it aside on the couch. Her round breasts are bared.
“I read that an orgasm makes women happy.”
I cover her breasts with my hands, pinching her nipples between my forefingers and middle fingers while squeezing the soft mounds.
“Will that work, Princess?”
She hums, her eyes falling shut.