Chapter 15 Gio
GIO
Stephanie is so damn tight.
It feels like I’m taking her virginity all over again, and that makes it nearly impossible to go slowly.
She clearly hasn’t had sex for a long time, and the realization awakens a possessive kind of satisfaction inside me that’s near feral in its intensity.
That combined with just how wet she is for me, her pussy hot and eager as she ripples around my bare cock, is almost enough to send me over the edge.
One hand fisting the blankets to ground me, the other gripping her hip so I set the pace, I clench my teeth until I’m buried inside her, then still until I’m in control again.
Stephanie shivers beneath me, her walls gripping me like a vise as she breathes heavily, each gasp cool and refreshing as it washes across my skin.
“You okay?” I rasp, my voice ragged with the effort it takes to hold on to my load.
“Yes,” she whimpers, her fingers pressing into the muscles of my back like she’s clinging to that belief. “You’re just so… big,” she breathes.
My cock throbs in response—as if taking the observation as a compliment, though I’m worried I might be hurting her.
“We can stop,” I say, my body screaming for me to shut the hell up as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“No, I–I want this,” she says, her green eyes intense and full of longing when I meet them.
Nodding, I lean in to brush my lips against hers. “We’ll go slow,” I promise, though how I’m supposed to take my time with her when she feels this incredible, I don’t know.
Stephanie’s breath rushes from her, and her head lifts off the bed, chasing me as she deepens the kiss.
God, she’s as sensual and eager as ever, and when I roll my hips, slowly rocking inside her, she responds with a greedy kind of need that lights me on fire.
I never anticipated taking things this far on our second first date.
When I’d originally started dating Stephanie, a decade ago, we took things slow, and while I was no virgin at the time, she was, so we didn’t have sex for months at the start of our relationship.
But tonight, something deep and subconscious seems to be driving us, and after eight years of longing for her, wishing more than anything that I could hold her again, I just can’t seem to stop myself.
It’s even better than I remembered—the feel of her soft skin brushing against mine, the warmth of her body arching beneath me, her legs wrapped around me as she takes me deep inside herself.
And as I rock, each thrust long and slow and penetrating, it feels so passionate and intense, my love for Stephanie threatens to overwhelm my emotions.
I’m not going to last long.
And I know it wouldn’t matter how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman.
Even if I haven’t so much as looked at anyone else since Stephanie burst back into my life.
This. Here. With her.
It’s the most raw, intense connection I’ve ever felt.
I can hardly believe I’m holding her in my arms again, kissing those soft, full lips.
I can feel her pleasure growing, hear the familiar swell of her moans as she nears climax.
It’s the sexiest sound in the universe.
And it’s going to push me right over the edge.
“Damn it, I’m going to come,” I groan, frustration coursing through me at my inability to draw out her pleasure.
We can always go again.
But after eight years of thinking about this moment, I wanted to leave her screaming my name… not wishing I had let her finish.
Stephanie gasps, her nails biting into my skin as she clings to me, her thighs tightening around my hips. “Oh God, please don’t stop,” she whimpers.
Christ, I love it when she begs.
Heat hammers through my veins, my cock so swollen, it’s ready to burst, and I groan as I bury my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin.
“I can’t… if I’m pulling out, I need to now,” I growl, my hips thrusting forward urgently in protest.
“Don’t, God… just—” Panting breaths rush from her, and I can feel her tightening around me as she hovers on the brink of climax. “Just stay,” she moans, then gasps. “Oh, Gio!”
The sound of my name on her lips is what launches me over the edge, and as she flutters around me, her pussy milking my cock, I know it’s too late.
I slam inside her, my hips taking on a life of their own as hot cum rushes from me in burst after thick burst.
“Fuck, Stephanie,” I groan, collecting her against my body as she unravels in my arms.
She shivers, the tremor racking her from her head to her toes as she pulses around me.
We’re a tangle of arms and legs, so closely intertwined that I don’t know where I end and she begins.
And if I had my way, I would remain like this, wrapped around her, filling her up until the end of my days.
But coming inside her was entirely irresponsible.
I should have had better self-restraint, and now I’ve saddled her with the burden of handling my lack of restraint.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, continuing to hold her close as I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “I meant to pull out. I just… God, you feel so good.” My cock twitches inside her slick depths as if to confirm my statement, and Stephanie’s eyes flutter closed as she pulses around me in response.
“It’s fine,” she assures me. “It’s just as much my fault because I didn’t want you to stop. I’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Cradling her face in my palm, I brush the pad of my thumb across her cheek. “We’ll figure it out. I’m here. Whatever you need.”
Stephanie’s smile is soft, and she lifts her head to kiss me softly, but I can feel a tremble in her chin, and my chest aches to think I took things too far—screwed up our first time back together.
Easing out of her, I suppress the throbbing sense of loss that comes with parting from her.
Then I roll onto the bed, pulling her with me as I cradle her close.
After a moment’s hesitation, she nuzzles in closer to me, and it feels like my world is finally whole again.
In the silence, I run my fingers through her soft hair, relishing the way it falls wispily across my shoulder, the bright colors melting into her dark locks.
“Gio?” she asks, her fingers delicate as they trace the ridges of my abdomen, her gaze watching their progress.
“Hmm?” I ask, contentment seeping deep into my bones.
“Can I ask you something?” She sounds almost hesitant, and I tighten my arm around her.
“Anything.”
She pauses a moment, her hand coming to splay across my chest, and she tips her chin up to look at me. “Who’s Stephanie?”
I tense immediately, my heart breaking into a sprint as I freeze, completely caught off guard.
“You… called me Stephanie while we were…”
Swallowing hard, she pulls away, sitting up so she can face me, and while I want to drag her back to me, I let her have her space.
Cazzo. How could I be such an idiot?
Reality comes crashing down on me—reminding me that our new relationship has been built on lies.
And now that I know the full story behind her disappearance, I don’t know how to admit who I really am to her.
It would destroy Stephanie’s trust in me—knowing that I’ve recognized her all along and pretended I didn’t know her so I could get close to her.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize how terribly I’ve failed her—first by not protecting her when I promised I would, then by not showing up at the hospital when she needed me.
Now by deceiving her into falling for me again, when she’s spent the past eight years wondering who she is.
I’m despicable.
Nothing can make up for all the mistakes I’ve made.
But right now would be the time to come clean.
To tell her exactly who Stephanie is—and who she is to me.
But the guilt that weighs on my conscience traps the words in my throat, and the pain in her eyes only intensifies the feeling.
“She’s not…” Stephanie closes her eyes, color infusing her cheeks, and she swallows hard before looking at me again. “You’re not married, are you?”
Shock jolts through me, and I sit up. “No. No,” I insist when doubt flashes across her face. “It’s nothing like that. Stephanie is… She was someone I cared about and lost a long time ago.”
Her face falls, the tension releasing from her shoulders as they droop, curling in as if to protect her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I said her name.
But that must have made you feel terrible, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
I just got so caught up in the moment, I stopped thinking.
And I know it’s no excuse, but I’ve… well, I haven’t felt this way about a woman since her, and…
” I shake my head, fresh waves of guilt crashing through me at the half truths that spill from my mouth with far too much ease.
“No, don’t apologize,” she insists, taking my hand as she leans toward me, and even that innocuous touch sends sparks of desire dancing across my skin.
My heart swells as she looks at me with such compassion, it steals the air from my lungs.
“I think it’s… sweet,” she says haltingly. “You must have really cared for her.”
God, you have no idea. She’s my everything. You’re my everything.
But I’ve already plunged head first down this rabbit hole, and there’s no turning back, so I just nod, my eyes dropping to our hands as I brush the pad of my thumb across her knuckles.
“I promise you’re the only one I was thinking of,” I say, forcing my gaze back to hers, and her smile is so sweet, I can almost taste it.
“I’m glad, because you were all I could think about,” she admits, her blush intensifying in the most adorable display of sudden shyness.
“Come here,” I plead, tugging her toward me once again, and Stephanie concedes, snuggling back into my side, her breasts pressed against my ribcage, her cheek against my chest.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, wanting to fill the loaded silence.
“Anything,” she says, tilting her chin up to smile at me as she playfully echoes my response.
“What about Jackson’s father? Is he still in the picture at all?”
Stephanie pauses, her expression turning guarded just like it did when I asked her about her past before. “He’s not,” she says shortly, her voice tense.
“Bad breakup?” I guess, my heart squeezing to think of her with another man—even if she didn’t know I was out there trying to will her back into existence.
“No,” she says, her hair tickling my shoulder as she shakes her head.
I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse, but it feels like I’m pulling teeth when I wish she would just put me out of my misery and tell me when she met him, what their relationship was like, why it ended—anything to give me insight into what her life has been like since we were separated.
“Where is he now?” I press, trying to nudge her into opening up, even if I’m dreading the answer.
“I don’t know,” she admits, her fingers tracing the tattoos on my chest.
“He hasn’t shown any interest in being a part of Jackson’s life?” The question comes out shocked, because I’m truly stunned that anyone would prefer to not have that little boy in their life.
“I guess not,” Stephanie says, her voice tinged with bitterness for the first time. “But I don’t really know if he’s even aware Jackson exists.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head, her cheek brushing against my shoulder, and her fingers pause along their path momentarily.
“I was pregnant when I woke up in the hospital,” she confesses.
“And since no one ever came looking for me, I couldn’t say whether the father knew.
If that’s why he chose not to find me—or if he’s the reason I wound up there in the first place. ”
The edge to her tone is like a razor blade across my chest, and I flinch internally.
If she was already pregnant by the time she wound up in the hospital, that likely means one of two things—either Jackson is my son, or the men who took Stephanie raped her before they left her for dead.
Either way, her assessment of the situation hits too close to home.
I am the reason she wound up in the hospital.
And my gut churns at the prospect that one of the men who stole her from me—who tried to kill her—could also be Jackson’s father.
“Do you know how far along you were when you woke up? Or the date when that good Samaritan dropped you off at the hospital?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light but failing miserably.
Stephanie lifts her head from my chest once more, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she frowns up at me. “Why do you want to know?” she counters, her tone instantly guarded.
Definitely crossed a line with that one. My stomach flip-flops as I quickly try to backpedal. “Just curious,” I assure her.
But the possibility that Jackson might actually be my son fills me with emotions I wasn’t entirely prepared for.
It kills me to know it’s a possibility, and yet I can’t say it.
Worse is the fact that it’s a gag order of my own making.
Guilt dominates because, either way, the fact that she was pregnant when she woke at the hospital means that I failed to protect Stephanie in a far worse way than I ever could have realized.
I didn’t just fail to keep her safe.
I either failed our unborn son, or I left her in the hands of men who did unspeakable things to her.
And then I let her raise a child all on her own.
I know that the remorse eating me from the inside now will follow me to my grave.
There’s nothing I can do to fix the terrible mistake I’ve made, and if I try, I will only reopen old wounds and create more pain.
Stephanie can never find out who I really am—not after I’ve heard the trauma I caused by not being there when she needed me most.
If she ever learned the whole truth, she wouldn’t just think I betrayed her trust.
She would know how utterly I failed her in every way.
And she might never speak to me again.